Michelle Claus

(When my son and I studied world history together, we enjoyed the legend of Alexander the Great. In that spirit, I composed this poem.)

There once was a Macedon lad
Whose mind was a trifling mad.
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Ocean
lashing the rocks
sculpting my savage coast
where vagrant seagulls loiter and perch …
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Are you the wind that ruffles
a silent day?

I was walking,
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Equinox
I’m perusing the aisles of a local retailer
as if strolling through the blossoming rows of a flower garden:
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An attitude of ending
is the engine of my craft.
All my days, my hours, my now
I’ve been jotting on scraps -
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My poetry walks barefoot along the winding unpaved road
where beautiful people peddle smiles
that tell a story older than language.
Where sundry patches of fabric
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Amid the stars and mystery
We all record one history
And tell it to the universe
With voices brilliant and diverse
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life is wingspan, we
transcend our mending temples
hawk-aspiring
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I am alone
even though
Earth is billion-peopled
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Parentheses around my mouth
belie my inner age.
This middle stage of life, in truth,
is rather like a cage.
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With borrowed beauty in my youth
I curved along appeal
withheld my gaze from gazing men
and tossed my hair, aloof.
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purple bits by wind
are gathered from branches, tossed
petal confetti
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When the paint brush tip kisses the canvas
all human anxiety dissolves.

We want this kiss.
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Wild, even my hair will not submit -
flies feral from its follicle
and in the wind, maniacal.
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A sweaty, surly recluse,
With a cigar dangling from his lips,
Polishes the vast concave telescope mirror.
When he’s done stripping away
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one shovel, one pail
one corner of the sandbox
Turrets and Spires
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On Easter Eve
afar came near
a shooting star
it did appear
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four hummingbirds alit upon the feeder
four hummingbirds, whose wont is war and greed
they sipped their sugar-water somewhat sweeter
cooperating, sharing – fair, indeed
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I’ll season my typical limerick
with saffron’s equivalent, turmeric,
which smells really nice
in a bowl of hot rice
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Hokusai painted
two tiny sparrows on one
grain of rice, barefoot
...