Binary
Code (Memory Nova Scotia)
blue for sky and the false promise of indigo
we push against sea fog, gape at rubber-clad ice-water surfers
atmospheric particles scatter light from one end
of the spectrum
physics for the uninitiated
background color to each day same as
cosmic radiation and dark matter
which scientists say fills the known universe
Lawrencetown Beach Provincial Park
along Nova Scotia’s Atlantic coast
the curl of blue-green waves
push a steeply angled brick red beach
into a spectrum of smoothly rounded rocks
Naples yellow, burnt orange, pale rose
chromium oxide green, royal purple
pink, grey, and brown
yet
photoshopping turns everything into
a black and white universe
which philosophers call reality
[RK, 5/26/2023]
Art Imitates Life (Memory Flagstaff, Arizona)
blue and yellow warblers flit, alight, blow away in the storm
ferruginous hawks seek a still perch
swaying meadowlarks, raven clouds, flocks of pinyon jays
nighthawks in harsh crepuscular light
goldfinch, sparrow, watch them beat into the wind
and leave behind fresh colors
prairie dogs effect underground changes
cow, sheep, and horse manure matches
bindweed, pine needle, cornstalk, squash vine
strong wind off the San Francisco Peaks
the pointed decay of seasonal weather
outbuildings peeled, warped, scored with
fractal patterns reflected in clouds, feathers, horse’s hooves
ruts and puddles in meandering dirt roads
fences flake creosote and rust
a single tree in the middle of the field
tipped with tight purple buds dead
from an early spring freeze
measuring, recording, recreating the changes
on the surface of copper etching plates
scratching, scoring, letting my hand wander
the real world’s obvious message distilled
metal sheets eventually oxidize
become the represented objects
[RK, 5/26/2023]
In the Canyon (Memory Prescott, Arizona)
the day shakes like wet linen
panther clouds stalk the rain
the light does a quick turnabout
the sun is dozens of egg yolks dotting puddles
spring comes with wind and blue light
furtive rodents and insects
crawl from under last year’s skeletons
reproduce and avoid the weather
so many yellow or white-crowned birds
auspicious red twigs and brown quail
diffused warbler smoke
careening canyon doves
empty sparrows push the new road
melt the raven wind
all peep and stare at me through the blind
like I owe them something
[RK, 5/26/2023]
Saffron please tell me you remember
how morning light illuminates
a faded fallen alley fence
butterscotch, lemon, canary, amber, gold
how commuters leave tiny cumulous clouds
of carbon monoxide on Coal Avenue
our precious lives, our moments slipping away
black percolator coffee, filter cigarettes
mismatched cups, bare cupboards
a silent rotary telephone
tell me you remember the last day
cedar waxwings illuminating bare trees
Albuquerque’s slow fade into autumn
[RK, 5/26/2023]
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