we study the leaves
fallen beneath the oak tree
they’re brown, he says
by James Brush
James Brush is a teacher and writer who lives in Austin, TX. He tries to get outside as much as possible.
we study the leaves
fallen beneath the oak tree
they’re brown, he says
Heavy machines clang near the animal shelter while cirrus wisps spiderweb the sky like the broken dirt caked against the curb.
a gray stone
shaped just like the moon
in his pocket
afternoon’s treasures
bang in the washer
autumn dragonfly
carried backwards on the wind
the pool is closed
///
I went for a walk at lunch today. That’s where I often gather my small stones. I found this one and, inspired by Angie Werren’s fine haiku videos, I made a video of it. I loved the simplicity of making this.
cold sunlight
rakes across the grass
shadow deer
windshield wipers
slap the gray curtain
taillights fade
two grackles
wander the wet grass
between storms
The Poetry Storehouse is a very cool new resource for bringing new life to poetry:
The Poetry Storehouse is an effort to promote new forms and delivery methods for page-poetry by creating a repository of freely-available high-quality contemporary page-poetry for those multimedia collaborative artists who may sometimes be stymied in their work by copyright and other restrictions. Our main mission is to collect and showcase poem texts and, in some instances, audio recordings of those texts. It is our hope that those texts will serve as inspiration or raw material for other artistic creations in different media.
A few of my poems are there too, along with a reading of my 2010 poem “For the Goddess of the Empty Sea” by NS. Do check it out, and maybe even create something new from what you find there.