seeing/saying: December 2015

Saturday, December 26, 2015

The small plain

With clouds, bush, sky

Virtually blew

Dusty threw

And through

My frame

Not a hair

Could I detect

Countering

It flew

Somewhere’s a gully

Declining

Yet channeled
Downward, toward.

Tom McGlynn

Thursday, December 24, 2015

Now that we

Can no longer

Read the sky

This burnt stick

Feels divine

You and yours

Vintage ideas

Were doing

A reading

Somewhere in

Downtown Manhattan

How big is it

In real life?

Tom McGlynn

Wednesday, December 23, 2015

Boy killed

As storm pounds

Mississippi

A condensed

And paraphrased

Revision

While I was deep

In REM sleep

Tom McGlynn

Tuesday, December 22, 2015

Handy people

And sculptors

Give the gift

Of creativity

In little bits

One’s small parts

Of a great organization

Phones, computers, cars, doors

And more

Found in crack clusters

In sidewalks

Tom McGlynn

Monday, December 21, 2015

That sad girl

Theory

An insatiable need

For three-letter words

Like: ohh, ohh, ohh

May have cost you

Those monsters

That shape

Brain anatomy

(Hiked up

Grand canyons)

Tom McGlynn

Sunday, December 20, 2015

I would water

The tree

I would

That dead thing

In my living room

Boughed in

From the cold

To warn this

Chill

Water I would

This pointed dark

Nurseried

To weigh some light

Its sappy smell

Still killing

Tom McGlynn

Hate will lose it (after Blake)

Hate will lose it

Self-displeased

Against no one

With care to tease

The reek of heaven

Hoped in hell

Quietly a landslide

Stood

Held upon

A weasel root

While a boulder

In a lake

Drained away

Its lapping foot

Hate will bring a self

To bear

To free it’s will

To wander there

Inside a heaven

Hoped in hell

Tom McGlynn

The roots

Of the current

Crisis

Enjoy the comfort

Of working

From home

Water-broken

Boulder left

The claws

Of the ice

Withdrawn

Friday, December 18, 2015

Is this a work

Of yours

Unlocked

Though elsewhere

Seamed

Pretty, subdued

Hacking

Rights- of- way

And hope

Rethought

Exhausted maps

Moved by tropics

Your murmuring

Stonewash
Seized imprint

Tom McGlynn

Sunday, December 6, 2015

The ridge line

Obscured by morning

Descends by day

Over

And then

Over

My wending

Will be all

The same

Tom McGlynn

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

You yourself

Could not

Have imagined

It files

Us, with

Echoes

We hone

Called in

Sleepwalking

Hearts

Sleep will come

Undecisive

To dream

Jetties of orbit

Cleaving

The days

Marked on purpose
Of furrowing instinct

Tom McGlynn

December started

Yesterday events

Were hoisted towards

Sheaves of care

Boarded welfare

Struggling mightly
Silage

Tom McGlynn