Earthquake Weather

Here at the edge -  the earth is fragile
subject to rattles and jars -
gods kicking a ball

the sky is usually bright blue
The air is still
Right there – pay attention to that quiet
Feel the warm calm in the afternoon?

Usually the air moves; in a breeze
fog, wind, cell phone discussions,
the locals rustling the air with their breath
It is the quiet that is suspicious

Like when the small children are  
very very silent in their room
because they’ve wrapped the baby  
with duct tape and popsicles sticks
Just like a real mummy
They were planning to bury him next – like on Discovery Channel
That kind of quiet

no no, dogs don’t howl  
there is no restlessness on the part of the birds
what do they know?  
They don’t spend time on the ground

there is a moment when the air connects straight to the ground
and pauses
a second before the earth shifts again
sideswipes, rattles or rolls
a quick buckling and the whole landscape
leans a little more to the left.

And for some reason
We all look up.

Untitled

Overheard:
You were how old?
When you were 18?

- Catharine

From Dana Gioia - Can Poetry Matter?

There are at least two reasons why the situation of poetry matters to the entire intellectual community. The first involves the role of language in a free society. Poetry is the art of using words charged with their utmost meaning. A society whose intellectual leaders lose the skill to shape, appreciate, and understand the power of language will become the slaves of those who retain it--be they politicians, preachers, copywriters, or newscasters. The public responsibility of poetry has been pointed out repeatedly by modern writers. Even the archsymbolist Stephane Mallarme praised the poet's central mission to "purify the words of the tribe." And Ezra Pound warned that

    Good writers are those who keep the language efficient. That is to say, keep it accurate, keep it clean. It doesn't matter whether a good writer wants to be useful, or whether the bad writer wants to do harm. . . .

    If a nation's literature declines, the nation atrophies and decays.

Or, as George Orwell wrote after the Second World War, "One ought to recognize that the present political chaos is connected with the decay of language. . . ." Poetry is not the entire solution to keeping the nation's language clear and honest, but one is hard pressed to imagine a country's citizens improving the health of its language while abandoning poetry.

http://www.danagioia.net

Poetry from my class this summer

 Haiku from my Comm 215 Class
University of Phoenix – Bay Area Campus

My life
Oh my God
here it is!

As the wind blows
my hair stands
but I can’t

As the rain falls
reflection reminds me
I need a drink
    - Kimo

Floating fishes
in the deep blue sea
spring nights are here again
-    Sandy

Beautiful  flower
smells so sweet
is dead

Sunrise
so bright
disappears
    -Ken

Shiny and glistening
a snail trails
on my doorstep
    - David