Sky Poems

On this blue sky day
the clouds are painting poetry.
Is the wind the author, I wonder?

Long lines wisp straight across the horizon,
could be “projective verse”
far as the breath will go.

The short puffs are Williams or Cummings descending
down toward earth, its vast girth the open
auditorium where this all plays out above.

The palm trees behind the wall are exclamation
points breaking the lines that ever
change and fall before our eyes.

The birds dot the phrases
with deft maneuvers moving
in and out of the spreading stanzas.

And as it all moves west what remains
is the zen of the capacious screen
in all its ravaging completeness.

Published by William Cowan

I'm from the East Coast, have lived in SoCal and now Northern California for some years. I've been writing quite awhile, published in 1992 in a literary quarterly: "Suspicious Humanist," vol. 2, #2, (20 pages.) Best job: fm on air personality on a now defunct station, "Evening Eclectic" music show, and a weekly poetry reading show. I played jazz and free/improv I enjoyed. Read Wallace Stevens, John Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, etc. and commented on the poems. I have read once at a local coffee house. Love the Bay Area, wouldn't want to be anywhere else. I am going to appear in an east coast anthology of best new poets of 2010 by the end of the year, published in Pennsylvania. I'm reading once a month at a brewpub in Marin with a group of fellow poets. We read to each other our work, and personal favorite poems of authors we enjoy. It is a pleasure to share with a community of fellow enthusiasts.

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