Ink Node: C. E. Chaffin

In Your Hands

2010-02-22T21:19:02-08:00

The desert two-lane flashes
its white segments so quickly
you forget the asphalt discontinuities
and think the dashes connected
toward some future rendezvous
where night and morning join
in a secret sunrise of stars
that explains all...

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Back to Sleep

2010-02-09T14:39:41-08:00

I went back to sleep and saw
the scorched ruins of my philosophy
begging for green wood
though I wouldn't ax a sapling
for their greater good.

I went back to sleep and saw
the Madonna of the Tortilla
...

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Under Noise

2010-02-07T23:45:20-08:00

By repetition it escapes us:
the dishwasher’s cycling, the radio’s drone,
the whine of sirens over the shuffle of traffic
inhibit alarm by repetition.

Below observation
in the deep recess of impression
the same damaged record spins
...

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Bobo the Clown

2010-01-26T19:33:52-08:00

His silly yellow vest, bowtie,
suspenders, polka dots
and big red nose
dared me to knock him down.
Blam, blam! He fell,
rose with a goofy grin
then rocked a bit and settled
for another sucker punch.

Just like the...

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On the Anthropic Principle

2010-01-04T12:58:38-08:00

Here at the spoke-ends of our galaxy
it is easy to forget the central axle
moving insensibly slow, still
the silvery-white dispersion of stars
soothes randomly until we impose a pattern,
like the Magi, like the Greeks.

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Last Poem of My 55th Year

2009-12-19T13:15:20-08:00

Last Poem of My 55th Year

I

I was thinking of how a whale’s white ribs
as a tunnel of staves gnawed clean by the sun

and offered to the sandy wind, symbolized something--
the largest reach of mammalian...

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Last Poem of My 45th Year

2009-12-19T13:05:37-08:00

Last Poem of my 45th Year

I

I thought of how a whale's white ribs
could choke the sky's blue neck,
massive vertebrae half-buried in sand,

and how a keel cleaves the sea
while...

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