JC Sulzenko’s Line-a-day Poem

This is the blog form of the original composition. You may also read it as a list on one page.

  • Cedar branches wear

  • garments fashioned by winter.

  • Encrusted, ice jewels

  • glitter, bend boughs toward Earth

  • who draws them into her heart.

  • ‘At face value:’

  • What you see is what you get.

  • Sometimes, only sometimes.

  • Take a fifty-dollar bill.

  • Choose fine goods, foods to consume.

  • Don’t bother to check

  • from what sweatshop those shoes came,

  • from what grey waters

  • grains of rice emerged, to blend

  • with rat shit in fine boxes.

  • Check out the thin sole,

  • what connects you to the earth.

  • It has rubber’s feel,

  • cushions against rough terrain

  • but on wet pavement floors you.

  • Mundane examples

  • of how nine-tenths lurks below

  • whatever surface.

  • Learn now, how a shipwrecked mind

  • set Sirens’ songs to gunfire.

  • Anticipation:

  • You know something is coming.

  • You sense its goodness.

  • Feel its warmth, how it teases

  • promises desires, fulfilled.

  • A birthday? Christmas?

  • The celebration

  • as much in waiting,

  • in the preparing, as in

  • the event, the bows, ribbons.

  • Apprehension:

  • This time, you feel something near.

  • You sense it breathing,

  • how it lurks in the shadows,

  • clothed in the trappings of dread.

  • Illness? A deceit?

  • The moment between that point,

  • not really knowing,

  • and when truth overtakes hope:

  • A last chance for innocence.

  • But, without either,

  • without some foreshadowing:

  • Anticipation,

  • apprehension, both absent,

  • create an ambush that sears.

  • Winter’s two faces:

  • One turned to Spring, one to Fall.

  • A perfect Janus.

  • Monday — cloudless, sun-happy;

  • Tuesday, a harsh about-turn.

  • A cold countenance:

  • Centuries of freeze and thaw

  • gauge pits,etch deep lines.

  • History, climate unmasked,

  • etched on rock by winds, by waves.

  • It’s alright, okay

  • to become so like the sand:

  • Wave-weary, sun bleached,

  • reduced to grains that glimmer

  • as the tides advance, withdraw.

  • Resist temptation:

  • to read the shoreline as prose

  • is pure folly.

  • Without plot, beginning, end,

  • hear its rhythm, poetry.

  • Take aim, sight with care.

  • It’s not the calibre of

  • love which brings its end.

  • Rather, its velocity:

  • the speed trust leaves the barrel.

  • Too late, the rabbit.

  • By one day, the cottontail

  • missed the moment when

  • fiction conspired with cash

  • to deliver chocolate.

  • Heat, in abundance;

  • ‘blue devils,’ a thorn’s excuse

  • for garden flowers.

  • Flight, immortal

  • The boy and his retriever shuttle

  • down Rose Crossroad, hemmed by

  • poison ivy in autumn scarlet, by squat junipers

  • cloaked in white flowers

  • The dog, nose to the the ground, surprises a garter sake

  • threading through scrub grasses after a toad

  • The child looks up into silence

  • A trio of vultures soars on spools of air

  • The dog, the boy round a bend

  • Approach pinions, black as velvet

  • Naked, abandoned on the path

  • Remnants in a heap

  • What once sought death now has found it

  • where footprints, pawprints weave with

  • tracks of deer, coyote scat, feathers

  • a tapestry