Collection #1: Poems From Maine

In August 2023, my family and I went on a week’s long vacation to Branch Lake in Maine. Our cabin was secluded and right on the water. It was a beautiful place to explore the woods, sit on the porch in the evening listening to the loons, and just be surrounded by nature. I consciously tried to stay off my phone during the vacation and opted for reading and writing. I wrote a number of poems while in the cabin, inspired by the natural things I saw around my in the woods and on the dock.

Afternoon Rain

Rain drops leaving watery footprints 

On my heart’s windowsill

Drip dropping in my brain

Maine Cabin

In a wooden shelter in a wet wood

Moss grows on my consciousness

Overlooking a silent lake

The Reason

I came to the cabin to unwind

I came to the cabin to find time

I came to the cabin to swim in my mind

Rock Tree

A tree grows out of a rock

Roots grasping at stone

Winding their way

Through wet corridors of moss

Reaching the needle floor

And digging into sweet dark soil

Earthy and complete

Hemlocks

Trees straight with knotty eyes 

And dead leaves

Horizontal and needleless

A Pretty Pair

Light green lichen latches onto

Grey bark rough and ragged

The Clearing

Mossy clearing

Bright green

And dreaming of

More rain and early morning

Squirrels chattering away

Dreamy Fog

Fog hovering above

Still water

In the early morning

A ghostly form

That disappears when

The sun arrives

Collection #2: Poems From Europe

During April, May and June of this year, I lived in Europe. The goal during this time was to network with filmmakers. While living in Berlin, Nice and Copenhagen, I was very inspired by the settings, the people, the weather, the customs and the landscapes. Inspired by my experience of writing enclosed rhyme poems earlier in the year, I wrote new poems in the same green notebook. Instead of focusing on keeping the same structure for each poem, I treated it more as an impressionistic writing experience. The poems vary in length, some rhyme and some don’t, and really I just wanted to capture certain life moments in just a few words.

Berlin, Germany (April, 2023)

Instructions for Happiness 

Whisper words through pine

Bark and salt

Hear bird songs while

Smelling fresh rain

Hold a flame to a reflected

Shadow to see if it catches fire

Squint until the world

Looks flat

Swim as far as your

Mouth lets you

Watch the moon and stop

When you’ve gone blind.

Sleep until light 

Scares you awake.

Intuition

I will know the way 

Back home at night

By the stars above my head

And the voices echoing

From a bar out of sight

Umbrella

Without rain

An umbrella 

Is held at your side

Dead weight

Waiting for a drop or two

To be of use to you

Stain

My messenger bag

Stained my pants 

Leaving long grey splotches

On the kaki tan surface.

I washed them in the sink

And dried them on the door

But days later

The splotches were still there

I’m not gonna wear them anymore

Lost Hand

(Editor’s note: this one is fictional)

A crow holds a human hand

In its beak

It trots down the dirt path

Of the estate, Content

The rain begins, sopping

The hand. Making it heavy.

The crow drops it. Bored.

And flies away.

Fish Bubbles

Fish bubbles and mossy wet

water drips on my face. 

Nice, France (May, 2023)

Wednesday Morning

Beach bodies

Spread across

Circular rocks

Serious swimmers

Day trippers

Sunbathers

Watching water

That beckons

With a splashing hand

Drunk

sunscreen 

flowing 

like 

champagne.

Audience

Boy looks back

At his father

To make sure

He watches him

Skip the stone. 

Beach Breakfast

The morning sun

Is still hot to the touch

A just-boiled egg

With a chalk shell

That cracked before

It was boiled.

Wistful

Flowers encircling

A mirror reflecting

Coffee grounds

Talking sounds

And the sweet smell of rain.

Underwater

Fish speckled with 

Orange and green

Surround me.

Grandma

A grandma with 

A fisherman’s cap

Puts sunscreen

On her granddaughter’s back.

Waiting

Waiting for the rain to ease

And for the ground to dry

A little bit

And for boats to return to

The water blue

And for birds to sing

Their songs a new.

Something Important

Paved clouds

Glisten with new rain

And reason

Statues stare upwards

At a sky that falls still 

In anticipation

For something important.

Mediterranean Sunset

The sky burns with 

Flowers and rosé

And spills over the landscape

In sheets of soiled glass.

Lost Time

Where do hours go when we lose them?

Underneath cupboards covered with dust?

In the sink drain with soggy mushrooms?

On the mantle next to candlesticks?

In the yard on hills with the ants?

Or in your pillowcase

Parked against your face

As you sleep

In nine quiet tulips

Never to be found again?

Copenhagen, Denmark (June 2023)

BirdSmile

Wait a while 

Till the birds start to smile.

Copenhagen Afternoon

Trimmed trees

Bikes in a line

Waveless lakes 

And white wine.

Kindling

Half smoked cigarettes

Lie in an ashy heap

On top of one another

Forgotten logs

Chopped down before their prime

On a mossy forest floor 

Infected with bugs.

Worn Table

A table in a bar

Bears the weight

Of its drinkers

The stain of perspired glasses

And the scratches of dirty fingernails

And bitter souls

And brews.

Friday Night

Plastic flaps in the wind

As rock music plays

Through burnt out speakers.

Collection #3: Enclosed Rhymes

Early in 2023, I started to write poetry that follows the enclosed rhyme A-B-B-A structure. This means that the first and last line of the four line stanza rhyme and the two middle ones rhythm. I like this structure because it feels conversational and surprising.

The subjects of these poems are either entirely random, or came to me because I wrote most of them on the back porch of my house. It overlooks a bird feeder and a small pond with fish in it. My writing process very much resembles my improvisational composing and my immediate artwork, in that I just sort of go forth, try not to think about it all too much, and see what comes of it.

I like writing slightly absurdist, surreal and bizarre phrases. Slightly off-kilter. Maybe a bit confusing. To blend with this feeling, ’m planning on creating small odd soundscapes to accompany the poems.

bird cough

birds fly by, pecking at seeds

calling, coughing and singing

sweet songs that are ringing

long after the day recedes 

bizarre bed 

a bed filled with bees

and grasshoppers

made of copper 

and sprinkled with green peas 

proposal over bread

stalwart soup and bristling bread

on a wooden table

hand me the ladle

i’ll cut the bread and we’ll wed 

fancy soap 

soup scented with basil and stillness

mixed with lemon pulp

and a little gulp

of whispering vines from the trellis 

close-up of a leaf

sun glossing through leaves

illuminating veins

of streets that teem

with ladybugs and trains

distracted 

rain racketeering down onto windowsills

and munching my mind

can’t find the time

to wake up and smell the imbeciles 

ode to olive oil 

manacled moss on fragile soil

inundated with liquid

and quite insipid

someone pass me the olive oil 

chaos

dancing draconian dominos plummet

down the mahogany table

to the carpeted stable

of a mid-afternoon pastry summit

pastoral scene

babbling brooks and moldy toast

and chittering catbirds

watching the cheese curd

curdle on the garden post