Larry Kimmel Poems

For a moment, the sun
on a red barn, dying,
on dry fields still as a gold death-mask
warmed yellow only to the eye
...

Her breast
fit
like a fruit
...

holding my eye
she undoes her blouse
my strict attention

...

What they left behind them
are the stone fences.

Each stone,
...

Slats of clear gold sunlight
and snow like fur on every branch
and every branch after branch after branch
as far as thought can reach...
...

Quite suddenly, full blown,
out of the chubby cheeks of an infant wind,
a leaf landed on a mud-puddle,
like a strange, crude vessel launched
...

Snow,
flecked by moon made mica.

Cold, windless air—even
...

The red pulse of three turn signals and the click of my own
—a serial music, more for the eye than the ear.

Images of unseen birds sweep the rear window of the car ahead,
...

Unable to sleep
I stand at the northeast window. A pond
of snow-melt,
back dropped by five spruces
...

A disc the yellow of old ivory, and then,
for the first time in a life oblivious,

it comes into focus, the face of the man
...