Sunday, October 25, 2015

October 25

Anna Althea Hills


  1. Come sit beside me friend
    Embrace my leafy welcome
    Stretch your toes in the sand
    Soothe your question clamor
    In my lullaby.

    California friend
    Give me a moment’s rest,
    Then I’ll explore your caves
    Stroll along your shores
    Sing my story back.

    With our time together short
    I’ll be quiet, watch and learn
    I’ll give the best I have
    Grateful to be here
    Kaliedeiscope dream.

    1. I love this. It really captures the feeling of being there and then the reference at the end makes it!

  2. You Swear

    The sun skips merrily on the waves
    while the trees sway lazily in the breeze
    the call of an unknown bird echos in the distance
    you swear you're standing at the edge of Heaven

    The surf cries out its aquatic roar
    and crashes against the ancient sand
    with the scent of the sea pooling in the grass
    you swear you've found the parasise lost

    Cool mosses creep out on the branches
    and dust the air with its sticky pollen
    minerals glisten on the face of the rock
    you swear you've discovered a secret garden

    Shades of green melding with blue
    the earth's veins running deep with gold
    the Perfect Hand of God is before you
    and you swear you've finally come home

    1. I really love when you bring your religious beliefs in! Think about an anglican publisher for these!

  3. Display of What Cannot Be Owned: Anna Althea Hill’s Evening on the Pacific, and My dog

    sitting here to catch the unseen
    do’er in the grip of my chopstick lens but what I see instd

    is the rot-bannana pea-pods and twinned catalpa leaves
    move like the waves behind them move

    the unseen the nothing the absence
    like my mutt-doog snapping at

    a fly he sees by its heat, but I cannot
    just before he turns the hallway

    corner and lays his fourth
    turd of the day gingerly between his

    dogfruit on the plush stain resistant what
    is seen is the movement what

    is unseen is the work
    the hours of preparatory easel-tedium

    or the muzzle pressed
    to the bottom

    of Joker’s
    dish the unforgivable unrepentant

    thief that shares bed couch toilet
    water and the daily

    movements of life pressing

    as if to say
    I have no complaints

    about white bristle fur on black
    dress socks this wool torment

    this sea this
    moment this tree

    I mark as mine
    is no catalpa those grow

    on the east coast
    and the tree in this painting

    with which I have no complaints
    is not mine nor

    is it wanted—the hurricane of claw trunk and aerial green
    pom poms

    the denizens of new laguna

    block the view from their stilt-legged
    seaside properties.

  4. The sun is setting to the west
    Diffusing light that is soft, still warm
    The tide pauses before receding
    into the stippled sky-horizon
    The wind nudges the leaves
    and kisses the yellow-gold ground
    And what of the eucalyptus tree
    does it wait and watch the sea?