Tag Archives: leaves

summertime

Posted on September 17, 2006 by Steven Schroeder

A moment ago I wasamazed by an explosionof squill purple on snow. Nowred leaves mass underfoot, and Summertime onthe Post Office radioblows like memorythrough a fading saxophone while we joke about mailingourselves to California. The pianois ice, and you can … Continue reading →

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mora valley, new mexico

Posted on August 26, 2006 by Steven Schroeder

Green pines on tiptoeagainst blue skystretch brown fingertipstoward cotton candy cloudswhile earth doubles overunder them, lurching sothey seem to leanagainst the shifting incline. A road just widerthan the car snakes downaround the mountain,leaves passing vehiclesto sort out unmarked lanesand margins … Continue reading →

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traces

Posted on July 16, 2006 by Steven Schroeder

Quiero hacer contigolo que la primavera hace con los cerezos.     Pablo Neruda Pondering what Spring doeswith cherry trees, Pablo,I pass the afternoonwith a faded gladioluspainting on whitewith water until words return.It paints blossomswith time that bleedsthrough illusions ofnothing, leaves traces.

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spectrum

Posted on October 22, 2005 by Steven Schroeder

Just returned from Lithuania yesterday… I have recordings and pictures, so will try to post sights and sounds as well as words soon. For now, though, a poem written in Druskininkai… Leaves on this walk scatter from greenthrough brown to … Continue reading →

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remember rain

Posted on August 10, 2005 by Steven Schroeder

It rained last night, just when memory of light suspended in a jewel poised over the jade curve of a ripe pepper faded dry. Tomatoes drink it              drop                      drop like tiny spiders scouring green leaves, save it to surprise you … Continue reading →

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