At the dog park by the bay
I am witness to a man crouched
at a puddle’s edge
He photographs
reflected clouds
A deep yes wells up
seeing someone else bend a knee
to clouds contained
in overflow
Can’t get enough
puddles speaking cloud
As a child deep delight
and still I am stilled
by this vaporous touchstone
Now lean over
into their underbellies unraveling
faster than time-lapsed peonies opening
Clouds surging on what may
be the first moist breaths
meandering still yet
from the first notes sung
They wrap their unfinished thoughts
around the ghosts of birds and insects
The puddle yearns for its maker
appearing within its face
The mind yearns for thoughts
that give it shape
Significance A friend has a son who looked up at me plucking an apple to hand down from the tree suspiciously He asked if I was sure saying apples come from a store Thought of a story in the beginning there was the word and ever since a distance to cross
Meditation on Listening Just Take Morsels Aurally Arriving From Afar Shaken As Salt Eat This Moment With Your Ears Scrub Jay Jests You Not This Urgent Second Passes Into You
*****
Joe Imwalle earned an MFA in Poetry from St Mary’s College of CA. He lives in Oakland with his wife and daughter where he teaches Spanish online and plays in the ambient country band, Aux Meadows. He’s working on a translation project, a chapbook, and his debut book of poems. His work can be found in Beyond Words, Indolent Books: What Rough Beast, The Courtship of Winds, Plants and Poetry Journal, and No Contact Mag. His translations are found in Asymptote and forthcoming from Chicago Quarterly Review.
