James Goertel presents poems from his second collection, With No Need for a Name, in a continuing series for Yareah Magazine at both his Tuesday and Friday poetry features. All 100 are untitled and will be presented in order.
I stand in the long light of almost-spring and watch
a cloud of blackbirds’ sporadic shift across the building
but soon fading glimmer of a sinking sun’s low glow
wrapping bare branches. All unnatural sound is unwelcome,
is profane against this canvas that will never paint itself
the same again. In the time between inhale and exhale
a fog rolls in over the lake, hiding it and a sunset
now holding its halcyon breath behind this brume
painted by the ephemeral black brush strokes of a bird cloud.