Phriday Photos: An evening walk…

…in our new front yard.

(For Alice, because you could walk barefoot here…and for Jeremy, because this made me think of Hughes and thinking of Hughes puts me in mind of you.)


Our new home embodies a dichotomy
of the human animal that I feel very acutely.

We find ourselves here, just across
one of the busiest streets in the city
from one of its oldest parks.  Between
the growls of Harleys and the rumble
and hum of semi-trucks, between the
ambulances, fire trucks and cop cars,
–sirens now blending into the background–
between the talking and pishing of the
metro buses stopping one door down,
between the screams of grunged-out
scooters and the bumping and thumping
of pimped out Pontiacs, in the moments between,
in the white-noise-almost-silence-that-passes-for-silence
in the city, we hear crickets; we hear the ‘scree-ee’
of hawks, circling in the sun; and right now, tonight, the
almost-constant-nocturnal-cooing of the pigeons in the gangway
is silenced by the rhythmic hooting of a Great Horned Owl.


As the sun sinks down behind us,
we cross a threshold, a boundary,
and enter a place where the hand
of man had been staid, even if
only a little….

In this, the nearest corner–
our favorite corner–of the
park, there is a place where
the hand of man has been
staid even just a bit more.
A sanctuary, overgrown,
left alone and lovely…

We sit a while and watch
dusk creep into the wood,
we see the colors fade from
the world around us and we
notice man’s hand making
itself known again.

We take ourselves,
hand in hand in hand to
our home and the city,
serving up silence like
a gift that we do not
know how to receive,
sings us back to sleep.


What is poemtstry?

Well, it’s a neologism, for one thing.  A new word to encompass the concepts of (poem+poet+poems+poets+poetry).  Poetics and meta-poetics.

It is also the name of my new blog.  A place to share, discuss and perhaps even argue (good-naturedly, of course) about what all these things mean to us.

It’s a work in progress.  I’m still feeling my way around.  Still figuring things out.

As of now, I will be posting once weekly at least to begin with, sharing quotes from poets and others about what these things mean or meant to them.  I am attempting, as means of structuring things, to limit these quotes to only those that contain the words:  A poem is…, A poem does…, Poems are…, Poems do…, A poet is…, A poet does…, Poets are…, Poets do…, Poetry is…, Poetry does…

Poemtstry is a way to try and put all of that into one word.

Trust me.  It’s easier to read than [poe/m/t(s)try], which is how my brain sees it.

So if you care about poetry, you’ll head strait over to, and see what all the hubbub is about.