I treasure my dreams of dreaming
After waking they wake me again
The whole day I’m like a doorway
My senses throw open their windows
I double my visual cortex
Then go blind with two suns
And see what everyone sees
Waking and dreaming are one
Cloistered Summer
The sky wears monks’ robes
and walks with bowed head
but you can’t tell if it’s faith
or melancholy that pervades.
Thunderstorms as expected.
Days wear shaded garments.
Deep night follows deep light.
Raindrops drip from leaves
like birdsong turned to stone.
Even a butterfly struggles
to lift the light, flower to flower.
Married to an Indigo Bunting
We can hear him, but we can’t see him.
His song is so happy to be alive
like he’s kissing the light of his song.
If you do see an indigo bunting,
your brain turns blue, and you take flight.
My wife does a good indigo bunting.
She’s great with birdsong in general.
Ducks will follow us down a canal.
It always make me laugh to recall.
She kisses the light of being alive.
Sibling Tax
When my brother died
our family resemblance
was sanguine and transmittal,
costing me more than I knew.
Spring Festival
There’s something about this spring day,
it’s like a choregraphed stage production
of what spring in spring is made
with a comparable mise-en-scène
and singing of sylph chorus,
rain clouds adding distant drama,
sunlight streaming from the rafters,
the performance of a lifetime
from this cast of leaves and flowers
dancing to their birth,
swaying to their being in being,
and bowing to their end, as in love’s future.
A Few More Barrels
Clockwork
A plum dropped into the brim-full
hour of summer
and to keep the edge of time
along the edge of space
fate rippled over the barrel head.
Moon Pearl
I reached my arm down into night
and raised up a moon pearl
which spilled back into the barrel
so that the heavens could hold a mirror.
Round Words
To hold the rain
the barrel must be saturated.
To be full of love
the body must be saturated.
Gyrosystem
The barrel sinks into soil,
grows roots, attracts lichen and moss,
insects and birds, bats and snakes,
and at the height of summer
morning glories entangle the barrel,
creep over the rim
and grow back out
blossoming wildly
like life twice born.
Tondo
Sometimes hanging grapes and leaves
are reflected in the convex mirror
of a brimming barrel, and deeper down
an idiotic Bacchus face looked up
having drowned drinking the barrel.
What Kind of Poems Do You Write
poems made of rainwater
collected in rain barrels
spare part poems
that squeak like a bicycle
Sunday poems
when nature is in worship
poems like rolling carp
eclipsing gold in shallow water
well-groomed poems
like the sons of barbers
poems like mirrors
hiding in plain sight
poems like floodlit fields
with empty soccer nets
sadly smiling poems
for having won and lost
imperfect poems
for being all too human
poems like children
laughing and crying
poems like vessels
in which the wine ages
Chalk Flowers
After browsing the wretched news
I go out and see chalk flowers
adorning my driveway.
Starting today the children of the world
will be spared from our brutality.
Starting today all hate
will wash away like chalk rain.
Starting today all guns
will be drawn in chalk.
Spring Reading
Spring is like a picture book,
each page offers more green,
some gold of the unseen
and a root planted in the spine.
Each page is a leaf on a tree
that turns the day toward the sun
and the book has endless pages
even though the story must end.
Accumulating Wealth
Just because.
You must amass currency for eternity
and be parent of your best memories
and adopt the child inside you
and guide the sick and the blind
as you’d wish to be guided
by the kindness of a blind hand
and to never lose what you love
you must love loss
not only the promise of freedom
but the wealth of it all
Salvatore Ala 