reviews to be held

Today’s poem is from 8:97 .

This week (tomorrow in fact) I get my review in shipping, part of that will determine if I will remain in the department or be thrown back to the paper machine. Last night shift was a rough one, lots of mistakes on my part and a taste of export (which will continue all this week). I do not expect a terrible review - just not a glowing one i guess, but really have no idea what will be included, as no one I’ve worked with directly will be in the room. I still feel as if I don’t know enough to be qualified yet. Oh well, will let you know when I post again, probably in a week or so, how it all went.

Cold is creeping into the valley at night, along with the fog and frost. Ah, as Dylan once said “Wintertime is coming, all the trees are filled with frost ..” or something along those long.

Well, onto the poetry …. 


FOR A DIETY

i do not lay false sacrifices.

the bamboo shoots someone called
a tree: the red clay pot
fired in your own kiln -
if this was not Paradise
i would gladly have exchanged 
it as such.

two roses on your doorstep,
as dawn broke (silver to cyan)
over Gabilan hills:
my footprints in the dew.

someday you to know
such a love: greater than dreams -
where afternoon fogs are dirty
as the river itself -
it will make no difference.

you hold a rose
for each of the decades,
still uncertain of the magic.

My parting footprints in the dew ...