The blue and temperate world by Julia Klatt Singer

The blue and temperate world

We live in the marginalia;
every day further from the center of things, more of a scribbled note,
a smudge, worn and soft as graphite.

I watch as the goldfinches,
he and she, back and hungry, visit the feeder three times over lunch.

The wind chimes now hang from a branch of the Elm,
some industrious squirrel stole from the porch and positioned there.

Running, in the early morning, the rabbits look at me like the interloper that I am.
I whisper don’t move, I’m already gone.

I am trying to learn Finnish. Tarjosi, tanaan—to offer, today.

And like yesterday and tomorrow all I have for you
is this poem,

that I plant your body in,
like the sky is a garden
made of stars.

by Julia Klatt Singer

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/julia.k.singer/

Editor’s Note: The narrative of this poem is bookended between two brilliant images, forcing the reader to grapple with the idea that reality is mostly created (and often startling).

From the archives – Tell Me Again by Julia Klatt Singer

tell me again

about the man
with the pear tree
who lost his wife
after fifty-six years of marriage
and how that tree doesn’t know when enough is enough
that last August
he had to prop the poor thing’s branches up
with two-by-fours
it was so laden with fruit.
He gave you a bagful of those pears
and their scent filled the car
even with the windows rolled down.

from Autumn Sky Poetry DAILY, October 26, 2015 — by Julia Klatt Singer

Painting by Julia Klatt Singer

From the archives – tell me again by Julia Klatt Singer

tell me again Singer

tell me again

about the man
with the pear tree
who lost his wife
after fifty-six years of marriage
and how that tree doesn’t know when enough is enough
that last August
he had to prop the poor thing’s branches up
with two-by-fours
it was so laden with fruit.
He gave you a bagful of those pears
and their scent filled the car
even with the windows rolled down.

from Autumn Sky Poetry DAILY, October 26, 2015 — by Julia Klatt Singer

Painting by Julia Klatt Singer

tell me again by Julia Klatt Singer

tell me again Singer

tell me again

about the man
with the pear tree
who lost his wife
after fifty-six years of marriage
and how that tree doesn’t know when enough is enough
that last August
he had to prop the poor thing’s branches up
with two-by-fours
it was so laden with fruit.
He gave you a bagful of those pears
and their scent filled the car
even with the windows rolled down.

by Julia Klatt Singer

Editor’s Note: This ekphrastic poem handles grief with a sideways feint—spoken of between the lines, with fruit and movement.

Painting by Julia Klatt Singer

From the archives – El Corazon — Julia Klatt Singer

El Corazon

I will not talk about silence
how in the absence of sound
hollows are formed, small graves
to bury each thought,
every desire.

I will not talk about the moon
how she curls up in the night sky
tugs at the oceans within me,
spills light upon dark avenues.

I will not talk about love, how
it is as clear & fragile
as a dragonfly’s wings, that when
it lands, it leaves its mark, dusty
with pollen.

Instead I will tell you
that it looks like it might snow,
and that when I smell smoke
I want to kiss your hands.

from Autumn Sky Poetry 19 — by Julia Klatt Singer

Painting by Julia Klatt Singer