a box of poems

While I was cleaning I came upon some old poems that may need reworking. Here is one for example...I did make a few changes. It was originally entitled Sky Spirit in Ivory I was inspired by an orchard in the White Mountains of New Hampshire:


In my bones
marrow shrivels into
grains.

I open the window
breathe in the sky
the sunset dance and all its turnings.

The trees of the apple orchard
are stripped and evenly spaced.
Late Novembers flame
snared in their black branches.

I feel
the tiny particles slide and catch within my hollow bones.
Seeds in a rainstick,
they shift in their ossuary and roll with the sky.

I see
the branches
slide into the shadows.

Vertebrae shudder rib against rib against rib
sliding down the clapboards of the kitchen wall
learning to catch the beat just right.

The dream was to soar through walls.
The trick is to soar with in them.
~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.


I'm toying with a new title for it something about change or freedom.


++++++++++++++++++++++
The there is this one:

On a late June day we were
the wild pacific wind
swirling down the coast
in the back of a red pick up truck
from Coos Bay to San Fransisco

Blowing five hundred miles nonstop through
Driftwood
Redwood
Marshwood sculptured huts.


We materialized
sometime after our feet hit the ground
in the mission district around midnight.