The Color of Transition [Today's News Poem, December 21, 2010]

The Color of Transition [Today's News Poem, December 21, 2010]

Red is the color of movement: a light in transition
Caught inbetween the activities; caught as the salmon
Swimming upstream where she spawns and she dies—like the vessels
Red with the ambient oxygen, red before rupture
Blackens the substance that falls from the orchard of heartbeats.
Plant in the dirt where the redness will fade, where the river
Waits for erosion, where fry learn to gobble the movements
Traced on the surface of things; such as water appearing
Clear for a lifetime, then cloudy with blood on the fringes.
Blood in the sky that's unnoticed, and even the lava
Under the surface of surfaces reddens a while.

"The last time the solstice coincided with a total lunar eclipse on the same calendar day was long before any of our lifetimes, experts say. The year, according to Geoff Chester, public affairs officer at the U.S. Naval Observatory, was 1638. (Starhawk, a prominent Wiccan, told The Washington Post in an essay that the two events have not coincided since 1544.) "
—Washington Post Staff, washingtonpost.com, Tuesday, December 21, 2010; 11:44 AM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/12/21/AR2010122102519.html

"A strong earthquake with a preliminary magnitude of 7.4 has struck in the Pacific off southern Japan, triggering a tsunami warning."
—Associated Press, DECEMBER 21, 2010, 1:53 P.M. ET
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748703581204576033713289893294.html

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Red is Not Red Anymore [Today's News Poem, October 21, 2010]

Red is Not Red Anymore [Today's News Poem, October 21, 2010]

You said you could live in my mind;
A house I would share with you—both
Our properties joined with a door:
Unlocked, then unhinged and removed.

I walk to my office and sit:
My swiveling chair and my files
Surround me. The cabinet drawer
Is dented—my knuckles have scars.

I open it—look, there's the snap
You took in Sedona, the curls
In stones that predated the ape.
The redness like bricks in that pic:

Your house in Virginia—I loved
That first home because it was yours.
And after that things got much worse
For you and for us—though I loved

The sanity felt with you—still
There—even though cliffs are a plunge,
No longer a sentinel-call
To make this thing love—to define

It carnally after the minds
Have joined and not prior. It meant—
I don't know what it meant for you—
It's the only memory that mattered to me.

"When Anita Hill accused Clarence Thomas of sexual harassment during his explosive 1991 Supreme Court confirmation hearing, Thomas vehemently denied the allegations and his handlers cited his steady relationship with another woman in an effort to deflect Hill's allegations.
Lillian McEwen was that woman. "
—Michael A. Fletcher, Washington Post Staff Writer, Friday, October 22, 2010
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/10/21/AR2010102106645.html

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