UNHEEDED AS A THRESHOLD BROOK<\/p>\n
……..<\/span>In this bright gray It\u2019s warm, still But still, in motion. Still inside ………….<\/span>Everything shines the Pacific\u2019s quiet arousal.<\/p>\n The Kingfishers rouse Everything shines: ………….<\/span>O obvious stars! ………….<\/span>Everything shines. It\u2019s always been this way, Still. Warm. Shining.<\/p>\n Remember\u2014 <\/p>\n “As A Threshold Brook” is reprinted from Taiga Issue A.<\/a><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Amber Nelson<\/a> is the co-founder and poetry editor of alice blue<\/a>, a well as the founding editor of alice blue books<\/a>. Her work can be found variously online<\/a> \u00a0and in print, and she is the author of 3 previous chapbooks: This Ride is in Double Exposure<\/a> <\/em>(h-ngm-n books), Your Trouble is Ballooning<\/em> <\/a>(Publishing Genius), and Diary of When Being with Friends Feels Like Watching TV<\/em><\/a> (Slash Pine Press). Her first full-length book, In Anima: Urgency<\/em> is forthcoming in May from Coconut Books.<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" UNHEEDED AS A THRESHOLD BROOK ……..In this bright gray light, the blinding day, listen to the whispering of angels. Tittering wings and wordlessness float in strings of sound. Such trembling music. The pavement shines. I ride the gales, wind and … Continue reading
\nlight, the blinding day,
\nlisten to the whispering
\nof angels. Tittering wings and wordlessness float in strings
\nof sound. Such trembling
\nmusic. The pavement shines.
\nI ride the gales, wind and night,
\nthey push against, slip through skin\u2014gripping each cadence\u2014
\nso hairs stand, ascending pins.<\/p>\n
\ninside the chill
\nof fall.<\/p>\n
\nthe weathered chaos. Stillness.
\nThis is \u2014happiness?<\/p>\n
\n………….<\/span>when it rains.
\nWhen it rains
\nand right after
\n………….<\/span>Everything shines:<\/p>\n
\nfor quiet repose, in
\nblue winged days. In praise
\n………….<\/span>I build sunlight
\nunder fingertips,
\nin each rib. Feel it lit
\ninside the wick of grim rubbings,
\nuncertain burns: a light singing.
\nIn air. In air. Remember\u2014
\n………….<\/span>this light, its organ
\nwarmth, sounds brass chords,
\na mast of fog in rooms
\nthat melts away. Hold on\u2014
\n………….<\/span>to such crisp, wet
\npleasure.<\/p>\n
\n………….<\/span>Praise\u2014
\nsun sheering leaves so you can see:
\nthe shake of white: the shake
\nof still, of empty white: sleet
\nof lupine time: fields: the gorgeous
\ntickle of clean sheets: a sweep
\nof sea aligning beach: a lingered
\nquiet drunk in mint: balloons
\nsuspending: stars.<\/p>\n
\nTheir light uncovers
\nall that\u2019s honied, sweetly
\nshining, shining.<\/p>\n
\nEach sun or star or skin
\nthe leaves the wind and
\neyes each dream idea mourning
\nlover scissor headlight touch<\/p>\n
\nlost inside a simple forgetting,
\nbrash midland breachings
\nof each, our gauzy seams<\/p>\n
\n………….<\/span>Joy\u2014each wheel
\na spindle slick on these wet
\nleaves the fall, which falls
\na maple in my stride, a tail whip
\nthat gasps in lungs and stays
\naglow\u2014a pink and golden hue
\nblazed within my skin, in ribs,
\na lift, a blessing.
\n………….<\/span>I ride into the day\u2014<\/p>\n