John Tritica - "Residence..."

from Residence in the High Desert

by John Tritica


                  Fluency in change is a book
                    that tosses hours about.

               In morning, light snow on the berm.

                 San Mateo & Zuni, heavy traffic.

                The conversation of rain and birds
                      sound texture release.

               6 AM: I stand on one leg and listen:

             Course times water is an integral sinking.

                How to undermine the local routine.

                Covered the peach tree three nights
                    against late winter frost.

                  When moments are surrounded by
                       unpredicted movement

                       Sight passes impasse.

                  As context meets cortex funnel
                  clouds against the bright sky.

                  Blooms set lunar night freezing
                  aphids devour last year's kale.

          Not the thing itself, speculation on the thing.

       Arms stretched out, you take in all in wavering gaze.

              Strands the daylight, clears the view.

                     Write around the clock
               linked sight wishes an accomplice.

                 To crack a jump in perception.

              Steady plot, overhead elm seeds green
                bushels to germinate, be weeded.

      Chick Corea's "Spain," cabernet, baklava, French roast.

              Not place alone determines relations
                       spacial tendencies.

          Optimal light two days prior to the equinox.

                 About change a book of fluency
                     lines hours and tosses.

              11:30 PM, the cats outside, you sleep.

              Should not stay the night wake longer
          but a short walk outside, the stars blurred.

                   Lilacs still tight budded.

             Aphids on broccoli, columbine, daisies
                       tenderest portions.
               Practice walking the house silently
                  so that power's in lightness.

                To stretch one centimeter longer.

        Already apricots the size of little finger tips.

         To survive cold wind, to look after ripening.

             You persist in banging on the radio.

            To travel the capillaries' far current
             the cherry tree's first blossom ever.

          Suddenly to follow scents not yet present.

          We play   on the floor during the reading.

           The port's trickle on tongue and gums.

            10:45 PM two days after the equinox
                  a restless wind purls.

          Anticipates Spanish broom, red valerians,
                        needed rest.

          7:30 AM in a cold metal room to teach.

        Tumbleweeds blow with traffic north on I 25
         into little bits rushing on the shoulder.

         Never unusual wind spring tours the storm
                     bright moisture.

         The sound from San Mateo & Zuni fiercer.

        Remove back chimes to ensure right sleeping.

            Copyright ©  1995 by John Tritica

    Light and Dust @ Grist Mobile Anthology of Poetry.