Going Back

(An Autumnal Syllabic)

(C) R.L.K.

Suddenly it
is November:
just a few dank
leaves remaining,
sheening yellow.

You walk down an
old street you walked
down long ago;
the corner store
is boarded up,

and vacant lots
make up more than
half of the block.
It's strange how things
can change, strange how

quiet it is
now, strange how that
lone small cloud can
drift across that
enormous sky.

Somewhere in Southern Indiana

(C) R.L.K.

Rain banging away at the depot roof,
Weary wanderers watching the window
For the first hint of headlights;
It's midnight and it matters little
Where anyone is going as long as the train
Will cut the distance down to a size
That even the loneliest traveler,
Now playing one more sad song
On the harmonica, can live with.

October Morning

(C) R.L.K.      


after the storm
    tattered
              clouds drift
  over an empty field --

     so the day
        begins:
chilly & wind-
  swept,      yet

beside a
  rickety fence
         a stray sunbeam
gilds a puddle of rain

Equinox

(C) R.L.K.

a leaf    away

    out in shadow
                   now
                   how
    dark upon the hill

today    away
gone like the others    to the wind
    that blows across the hill
    that blows a leaf    away

Another Poem About Time & Reality

(C) R.L.K.

(For Theresa)

The clouds, scrambled above the treetops,

That make the landscape this particular landscape;

The rain, dripping from the porch railing,

That make this evening what it is;

So summer ends, with most of the houses in darkness

And nearly everyone asleep, but you and I, somehow,

Have lingered, awake together, by this window a while.

Early and Late

(C) R.L.K.

"I was going to say... You remember various

details. But not even all of them together

show the intention. It is as if a snapshot

of a scene had been taken, but only a

few scattered details were to be seen..."

-- Wittgenstein

Sunlight, hillside,

old man with a

hat, the leaves, fall-

ing as other

leaves have fallen

before - all that

is the case; we

live in the world

and sort things out.

Words for an Anniversary

(C) R.L.K.

(For Gloria)

Clouds part, the pale light

of a half-finished

morning pours down through

the trees, and the wind,

the old returning

wind, whispers your name

in the empty street.

Midsummer

(C) R.L.K.

morning --
after hard rain,

sunlight streams
through windows, trees

glisten / between
green leaves,

pieces
of blue sky

Enough

(C) R.L.K.

We make a dwelling in the evening air,

In which being there together is enough.

-- Wallace Stevens

Night falls, finds us

closer than ever,

astonished

by the moonlight

spilling through

the birch trees

tingeing the

river

silver.

As It Happens

(C) R.L.K.

sunrise

lifting

the mist

from the lake

wingflap

of a great blue

heron over

water

leaf shadows

begin to

dance

in first light

in the wind

the scent

of languid

summer

Merely Pondering

(c) R.L.K.

Seen, just as
it is, this
fine rain brings

thoughts of past
things. So much

that is gone. Is it

as simple as

that, as this:

the train I ride,

the tracks ahead

that disappear just

beyond the next hill?

As of Now

(C) R.L.K.

such warmth,
finally:
a May day so boldly
green, awash
with sun-
shine, fine
with light breezes
through the window
now open
to what's
new

Damp Season

(C) R.L.K.

stark

sky of darkest gray --

what a way

to greet the day

outside the window the world's

strange shapes are

caught in

nets of rain

time keeps

passing

while the radio plays

sad songs...

& there are so many

sad songs

Spoon River Days

(C) R.L.K.

....

as the morning bells ring

mist from the river

veils the trees

....

the play of a morning sunbeam

as the dust rag glides

across the piano top

....

at close of day

the shimmering air

just before the rain

....

after the last train

only the sound of the wind

through the empty depot

....

the weary old moon

pauses a moment

over the riverbed

Spring Haiku

(c) R.L.K.

1.
Three white gulls circling
Over the morning traffic --
A long day ahead.

2.
As the sun goes down
A lone blue heron is bathed
In a rosy light.

3.
As the soft rain falls
A woman carries her dog
Past the shuttered shops.

Three for the Changing Season

(C) R.L.K.

1.

a long
walk a long
way through new-
fallen
snow

slowly

clouds drift a-
part

moonlight
spills
through
the trees
a while

2.

an icy glare
clings to
the silent pond

empty
branches sway
against shadowy clouds

3.

long train rolling on,
past the streetlamps, the leafless
trees, the windows softly lit,
rolling on, rolling on…

as Bachelard said:
“a dream of elsewhere
must be left open
at all times”
　
　

Improvisations

(C) R.L.K.

....
1. EARLY SUNDAY AGAIN

There is a sound like the splash of rainwater beside the fence row. This one day begins, as other days have begun. Something simply comes to be, perhaps the idea of a journey. Branches sway, suggesting a way to go. There is another sound, like laughter. The wind blows the gate open.

....
2. THE WOMAN IN BLUE DENIM IN A HOTEL LOBBY JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT

Is it the sound of the rain that she is listening to so attentively? It is best not to guess, but rather to simply wait. After all, to come into this place out of the storm is to begin to wait. On such a night, one can hear a different music, and dream about a different shade of blue.

....
3. THE LANDING, A CERTAIN PORT

It is getting late. Dark clouds are rolling in, yet the ship remains in sunlight as it drifts, slowly, toward the shore. That, at least, is something to sing about, and there will be singing soon. Songs that tell the old stories will drift on the wind, far from this one small place.

Another Year, or Ever Onward

(C) R.L.K.

Tonight a cold
north wind slams snow
against the street-
lamps. It's hard work,
pilgrim, keeping
to the path. But
go on, button
up that thin old
coat, cross the next
bridge even though
it's longer than
the one before.