The Third Full Moon in a Season of Four

The gathering storm eats

this true blue moon,


a dry wafer, soft hazy red


against the tin horizon.






It slips like a shining quarter


into a jukebox of cloud,


lingers gleaming in the dark coin slot


while the sad song plays.






We walk on bundled and


stiff like scarecrows into


the blustery November dusk.


We came to watch the full moon rise,






but what seems more pertinent now


is how this diaphanous disk


of sanguine floats pale


and quiet as milkweed seed






on the edge of the wind


and then is gone. There is


something rare yet relevant


in the way it disappears top first






into ambiguous lips of gray,


like the way you pull me


into your love from whatever


sorry spin my mind puts me in.

We tread our rambling path


calling owl and raven,


dizzy from the hordes


of squawking geese






hurtling above our heads.


The leaves crisp from their fall


crackle under our feet.


We have become deeply familiar






with how the rippled lake


smooths itself into evening,


how the shadowed land stretches and


yawns as the sleep of winter nears.






We wonder if the glowing gold eyes


of coyote will follow us into the dark.


There is something amazing,


something intimate and perhaps enduring






in how our footprints freeze in mud.


We have been this way a hundred times


through blistering summer heat and sudden


spring rains. Nothing ever remains,






yet this sunken moment


of our meandering, frosted in


the last blood of sunset,


glimmers as night closes in.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

The Kill, an experimental poetry video, by M. D. Friedman

Here’s my new video poem.  Please let me know what you think.
A full screen preview is availble at www.mdfriedman.com.

http://www.youtube.com/v/tyIILE8y424?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0&color1=0×006699&color2=0x54abd6

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

autumn blue

staring up into


porcelain sky glazed deep blue


fickle fall breaks through


 

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Taste of Green

The water knows


as do the bluebells,


laden with bee and seed.






The wind knows


and is trying


to tell me.






The murmuring falls


whisper more wisdom


than my mind can hold.






I embrace the ache


of volcanic spires


reaching for blue.

Like this shifting patch of speckled sun


I take my stand in, the bright


spiral of my hunger falls into itself.

I inhale the crystal

air that churns

through light

splintered pine

overwhelmed by the always

splendid taste of green.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

Hooked

It is not because no one is home


that this thunder leaves me uneasy.


Rain chants its mantra of falling


no matter what comes to mind.


The rain dashes by like a cat, and the thunder


growls like a dog pulling on its chain.


Water moves, always wearing down,


dissolving anything in its way.


Me, I stay put. I could be a tree


how casually I wait for the light to come.


The thunder stutters now as if to say,


“Enough already.” A muffled squall


rages inside me. It rains here all the time.


The wind pushes the tears back into my eyes.


I open and close the dark window, open and close


the window because I need to breathe.


I groan in a dialect of thunder no one understands.


Like a drunk stumbling home, I bellow and bawl


until there is nothing to say, until I black out.


I am as hooked and mangled as Hemingway’s marlin.


This is what it is like to be old, to have nothing left to climb.


At the top of the tower, the ever turning light


makes a shadow out of anything in its way. Up or down


no longer matters. Once the water, heavy from its journey,


comes to rest, it returns to the purity of the sky.


This is the teaching of the rain, the meaning of our breath,


take in deeply what you may, but remember always to let go.

Breathe Deeply by M. D. Friedman CR 2010

Please see www.mdfriedman.com for more of M. D. Friedman’s art.

 

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

anniversary haiku

we dive together


like bees into wild roses


hearts surging nectar

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.

made of sky

This poem needs to be viewed as a pdf.  Please click here.

The above is a “2D” (or 2 directional poem). It was composed to be read both vertically (down each column) and horizontally (across each row). It is difficult to get a full appreciation for the work by looking at it on a page. Please click to listen to the audio version.

Copyright 2010 by M. D. Friedman.
Please visit www.mdfriedman.com to see more of M. D. Friedman’s work.