The last three days worth of poems

When building space stations,
space itself
is a matter of concern:
the space around
the station itself,

the too cramped
space within

room for little
except to breathe


Lingering,
yesterday’s image
now
nurtured,
keeping 
all
near,
not
escaping--
conversations in the hall
something about
poetry

The ache
of the impossible

Finally, this spring
a day with
warmth

 
That some truck
hit a bridge
so that the train
was delayed
and I caught
busses
instead.

Chaos of contingency
and accident

(In the rush
I almost forgot
your birthday)

Quiet before storm

Here are today's and yesterday's poems

Some afternoon
or when
passing a slow
hour
in a quiet classroom
and watching
her 
at work,

brow creased
her attention 

focused,
her eyes distant



walking the edge
of storm,
a static energy
in the gathering 
clouds
air stirring
with
expectation

Life exists
at the edge

Sudden rain
suddenly
bright

Angst

Longer
than the dark
has wrapped
the space
between stars,
before this
a gnat’s
now
beating wings:

As if it never happened

Nothing
after

MayDay

From elsewhere--
who is
not? What
we have labored
to build
or salvage
or demolish
or
not

Chaos always
at the beginning

“Yes”