Friday, March 3, 2017

The Ash Wednesday Octets

ash wednesday octet #1

why expect cherries to bloom white froth in this
land of cinderblocks & pale yellow clapboards?

the sound of a plane where the sunlight’s smeared on
big clouds, the sound of a car, a train whistle—

people are talking in the parking lot; notes
played on a harp with dandelions woven

through its strings emanate from a far off land—
the sky east of the cedars: entirely ash


ash wednesday octet #2

not the stories I was going to tell you:
photons from track lights glistening on the skins

of citrus; watch them scatter beyond even
onions & yams in their bins—loving kindness

meditation for everyone I don’t
know, which is everyone—contrary sky

tears its clouds into white rags floating on
blue blue waters—by turns brilliant & ashen


ash wednesday octet #3

a pair of sunglasses with heart rims & no
lenses left for dead on the parking strip grass—

you see that every day of course—weeping
birch catkins dangle their promises too, stirred

in a thin breeze, & the crow pecks orange peels,
fragments of a summer sun torn to pieces;

that blue sneaker next to the door has no mate:
sky’s had it up to here with incense ashes

Jack Hayes
© 2017

Note: I know I said I was going on a blog vacation until Sunday, but things happen.

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