An Easy Kind of Day by Alice Thomas

 

Water thrums against my craft

Reminds me of its deep voice

That’s like no other-

Splashing. Battering. Booming.

And this I’ve remembered for over forty years

Yet it still echoes across my bow

Smells like weeds rolled in sand

With fish-guts iridescent in the foam.

Meanwhile, my Shakespeare (rod and reel)

Scrapes against the bench its filament

Tangled in the troller, risen above the wake

And 4 o’clock seems to have quietly crept in

Sculling across my thoughts, as I check the sun’s coordinates

And now, the time of bloody fire has come

Aglow in a red-orange rage– arching behind the oaks

Screeching its tumble right down to course’s end

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nature of resilience: Sculpture Magazine 2014            by alice thomas

 

neo-sculptures 

centuries of
catapulted art:
hemp and wood
brass and textile

were transformed
beyond burning
to a breathing
combustible archeology

from nature’s ancient bounty
burnt   salted   carved
re-established as
a superior bloom

re-seen      renewed
art-    all over again

 

WE ARE A TOWN by Alice Thomas

I know a man a woman who eats whatever is placed on the plate

Chinese Soul Indian Thai New Food and it’s all from ‘home’

prays the Shema and Our Father all around town

sees all sides of the coin of this realm

whose family comes from Portugal Puerto Rico Moldova Russia Poland and points north

with tongues moving in all directions to the right the left and center

who lives in dwellings of apartment jail farm home congregate rehabilitation shelter motel

makes mis-takes but always does their best … whatever that is

we are all of them Greenfield of Franklin County