empty the summer sky
o beloved
fill your coming and going
with soft purple shadows
empty the garden
my love
fling the rose’s scent skyward
fragrance is gone without you
empty your shoes
sweet
your tender soles
reluctant to leave me
empty your pockets
empty your hands
empty your arms
stay with me, beloved—stay
Pamela Olson, 8/29/10
For One Single Impression’s
prompt, “Empty”
the needles are extensions
of finger bones
stripped of muscle and flesh
so the fingers can go soft
relaxed and calm
while the yarn is looped
and thrown over—around
the wooden fingers
feeling the wool stick
and slide
between needle and ball
tension: friction: relaxation
over and under while the yarn
winds and loops
just a strand drawn from the ball
over and under
around
to become other
to become a creation
something new
from just a simple strand
Pamela Olson, 8/27/10
For Big Tent Poetry’s
prompt, “hands-on”
they perished
in the seamless grass
carapace– bone
horn and teeth
only hardness left
the soil softly drinks
under layered oak leaves
and woven tendrils
roots and rhizomes
soft-footed fungi
to perish in this seamless field
to lie beneath blades of grass
a pensive eternal dream
in the company of those
who left their hardness here
Pamela Olson, 8/22/10
Based on a line from “The Complete Poems of
Emily Dickinson” edited by Thomas H. Johnson;
Poem #409, “they perished in the seamless grass”
For One Single Impression’s prompt,
“pensive”
take the golden liquid from the jar
almost forgotten
behind the pickles and the summer squash
mellify me
spread the sweetness
across my scars and burns
erase my battles
mellify me
take my cool body
lost to the wonder
of mad honey
mellify me
pour the elixir into my mouth
through my hair
over my closed eyes
mellify me
I ask not for the ordinary
clover, acacia, fireweed, heather
but rather the extraordinary
mellify me
take my doom from the jar
and bathe me
then leave— but do not forget
you have mellified me
Pamela Olson, 8/8/10
For One Single Impression’s
prompt, “connoisseur”
Inspired by a NPR interview about
the process of mellification: embalming
by honey
one rain drop
f
a
l
l
s
the river rises. first the shallows and hollows fill. the water creeps and creeps almost imperceptibly, then when the land is finally level, a sigh fills the trees. branches bend down dipping their tips to drink but the water moves on sliding up the porch steps, folding itself under the door like some forgotten piece of mail. they hear it slithering across the floor from the upstairs bedroom in the darkness. the water moves toward the sofa and stuffed chair where he often sits, twining itself into the fabric and frame. soon the house itself is level with all around it. they find themselves swimming up from their bed and out the open window as the fish they once were. the trees give themselves up to an underwater forest and then there is only water, water mirroring the blueness of the sky.
Pamela Olson, 8/6/10
For Big Tent Poetry’s prompt,
for a poem that “one that hopefully mixed up your recent writing life”
he said, I love how the alders look
pushed against the darkness of the firs
I’ve seen them lean along the road’s edge
falling into the light above the asphalt
trunks mottled gray with lichen
branches holding their triplicate cones
marginal trees—always on edge
shedding their tight-ridged leaves
into autumn’s sweet coolness
Pamela Olson, 8/3/10
O Moon
bound up
wrapped with
warp and weft
threads of silver
silk of mist
tossed skyward
from evening’s
field and pond
wrap me in your light
Pamela Olson, 8/1/10
For One Single Impression’s
prompt, “cocoon”
here is the angel you were named for
bright wings glowing in the dark
wings lifting wings lifting wings
here is the hot coal held in his hand
burning with the fire of the Other
the scent of incense rises
the coal is pressed against lips
— sanctification
preparation and purification
the prophet’s words are not his own
the angel rises silent above him
the Other speaks
speaks with the prophet’s tongue
with burnt lips— blistered and hot
the message is sent
the angel waits
facing the four winds
whose lips will be touched now?
Pamela Olson, 7/25/10
For One Single Impression’s
prompt, “Angel”
I shall
go down
to the deep river, to the moonwaters,
where the shadows lie upon the riverbank
deeper than the night sky
hidden by boughs and leaves
moonlight fills the channel
cut sharp by floods
frog and fish wakes
illuminated
beware—sharp eyes
hide in the deep dark
moonwaters call from out of the shadows
restless dreams sent forth
”go down—go down”
go down to the intersection
of water, sky, and trees
go down to the light and darkness
down to the place where the moonwaters flow
Pamela Olson, 7/24/10
Inspired by A.R. Ammons’ poem, “River”
which begins, “I shall go down to the
deep river, to the moonwaters,”
for Big Tent Poetry’s prompt,
“write a poem inspired by
your favorite poem”
your books are ethereal
floating on a cloud
of bits and bytes
flattened into dimensionless nothing
no fibers sliding between fingers and words
no scent of ink slipping loose from binding
where the crackle of glued binding never sounds
no matter how new the book is
the page edges never cut soft fingertips open
spilling drops of red life upon pages
that slide forward and backward in a breeze
your words float around unseen and unheard
until the on button is pushed
and the e-page fills with dream words
becoming and unbecoming in an electric sigh
Pam Olson, 7/18/10