I drove to the local pond where the ice was going off yesterday only to find that it had frozen over anew. So for the second day in a row there were no migrant ducks or shorebirds to see. One of these days. Before leaving I took a photograph of the dried fruit of the Wild Cucumber, resembling to some degree a small pufferfish. One end blown open, it's four large seeds shot and fallen to the earth.

A very pleasant gift arrived in today's mail, a book by Floyce Alexander entitled Sundown, over two hundred pages of selected and new poems. Browsing it I encounter many old favorites and sample several new poems. There can be few poets more human, more personable, more erotic, or more honest than this poet. Especially now, after the cold celibacy of winter, after months of snow fall and thickening ice, these poems are welcome as would be a little of that "brightsun love" he mentions in the poem 'Blood Rivers.'

"Lakes of blood rising high as watertable,
overflowing in early spring, becoming rivers.
Your fingers, your twining legs, your lips and their salt
against the eyes of my closed lids, your brightsun love."
— Floyce Alexander, from the poem 'Blood Rivers'

Posted on March 10, 2017 03:20 AM by scottking