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Colin Goedecke

Colin Goedecke

Fog Pours In

for the fog

 
Fog pours in
 
through the half-open
 
windows. Fills
 
our small bedroom
 
by the bay. Pools
 
over the floor. Blankets
 
our bodies as we sleep.
 
Curls into our nostrils,
 
and wreathes our dreams.
 
Suspends us,
 
in a floating one–
 
quarter time;
 
in a cloud of whiteness,
 
completeness,
 
and forgetting.
 
 
 
 
Colin Goedecke
North Truro, Massachusetts
September 2002

#atone #bodies #capecod #dreams #ethereal #floating #fog #forgetting #massachusetts #newenglandcoast #northtruro #seafog

Other works by Colin Goedecke...
I Talk with The Oceans

Yes. And the rivers. The wind and the rain. The wildflowers. The marshes
Before You Ask

Land dwellers. Sea rovers. Tillers. Spelunkers. Before you ask the questions many ask; have asked since man
Veterans

Those many, sung and unsung, who gave themselves, often gave up their lives, to fight, in wars,
The Still Wet Signature

It was a wet signature. Full of emotion. Full of eroticism. Still wet, with sweat
I Bless This Being

While the town sleeps and dreams behind me. And pined islands lay silently, invisibly off the salt-tongued shore.
 1
The First Firefly

A sure sign of soon-coming Summer. Another sweet, salt-aired Summer.
Exhale

Each time you breathe in the Earth’s air, the life-giving air, you breathe out a cocktail of
 1
The Took the Umlaut Out

Of my family name. One day, 150 years ago. In a Castle Garden where Jenny
The Barber in the Dell

Who wore a green plastic visor the color of a ginger ale bottle. Who had a raspy voice and Charles Coburn kind of face. A forever bachelor
Toward the Lavender Hour

You, Picasso aigu in your summer straw shading blue eyes and sailor stripes, juggling a bubble of cold wine.
Can You Open Your Lens

All the way. Your eyes, senses, sensibilities. Fill them
What If You Forget the Turkey

However tender, and moist. The golden skin, supremely crisp. The stuffing,
Les Souvenirs et Les Reveries ~ Memories & Reveries

Motoring solo through the immense, silent, parted heart of the forest of Chinon. The birdsong air
Beauty Continues

While countries, armies and ideologies battle, bees make honey. Butterflies float, and drink the nectar from gently open flowers.
Being Truceful

Today. I’m pausing. And choosing. To break through wherever I’m hostile



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