Peter Blair: After Image
In December, the shadows of tree trunks
stay long all day, dark compasses pointing
northwest to northeast by afternoon.
Peter Blair: Hibernation
Morning breaks
blue in the open spaces
through limbs
Peter Blair: Variegation
After rain dries,
the shadows of leaves
star the white cement
Peter Blair: Estivation
Against blue dusk
a bat dives, veers
over the bank, dips,
swoops up
above the library
Peter Blair: Vernation
On the road by the arena,
puddles fill ditches
and flaxen rushes wave
in March rain.
Peter Blair: Captain Adam on Mars
Tribes Picked by U.S. to Fight Taliban, Get Tied Up in Own Feud; ‘If They Take Our Land, We’ll Kill Them All.’ Wall Street Journal Hot dust … Continue reading
Peter Blair: Dying in the Hospital, My Mother Speaks on My Birthday
The only time I had a police escort was your birth. The pains hit 3 minutes apart. I called Dad home. Why didn’t I take a cab? Mrs. Headley asked … Continue reading
Peter Blair: Off the Road
One February dawn, a laundry bag over my shoulder, weighed down with clothes, tablets, the Bhagavad-Gita, On the Road, I hitch-hike the Edgewood ramp of the Parkway West, join the … Continue reading
Peter Blair: Between Me and the Light
Through the transverse slats of a blind, a window screen’s fine-woven steel net is lit by a star, no, only a tiny hole in the mesh against the pale rose … Continue reading
Peter Blair: Portrait in Plate Glass
Dim in each angle, not much of me stares back. A lot of light gets through into the store’s dark interior. What did Virgil call it: a shade? “You are … Continue reading
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