Richard Michael Levine

Other Poems

Turning Seventy at a B&B on Clear Lake

Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day
And the jagged hills didn’t monitor my heart
Nor the grebes on the lake float their separate ways.

Lost friends and lovers flitted through my mind
Like the yellow-bellied warblers in the sedge.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

I was reading a book about Caravaggio
Short-lived sinner/saint of light and shadow
As the grebes on the lake fluttered their separate ways.

Then two of the birds paired off, their fluid necks
And pressed breasts forming a heart that soothed my own.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

My wife and I held hands and stared in wonder
As the mates dove down for some grass to offer each other
While the rest of the grebes floated their separate ways.

They rose to their feet and skied off together so fast
And so far they left a wake of winking water.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day
And seen the grebes on the lake dance away.

—First published in Tule Review, Fall 2012; nominated for Pushcart Prize.

- See more at: http://santacruz.hilltromper.com/article/outdoor-poet-richard-levine#sthash.DTqWFT8I.dpuf

Peek-a-Boo

At two he likes to crawl

Under people’s sweaters

And stare out at the woven room

Womb-warm in muffled expectancy

Between dreaming and being awake

Disappearing and being seen

Wiggling his legs to draw you

To his secret place saying

“Peek-a-boo, I see you”

While he giggles and giggles.

I too like to sit

In cafes in mid-winter

Where the warmth of gathered bodies

Mists the windows over

And people talk to one another

Or stare at their phones

Luring them to ring-a-ding

So they can shout “I’m here, I’m here”

As I peek at them while reading

Needing to be found out.

Turning Seventy at a B&B on Clear Lake

Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day
And the jagged hills didn’t monitor my heart
Nor the grebes on the lake float their separate ways.

Lost friends and lovers flitted through my mind
Like the yellow-bellied warblers in the sedge.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

I was reading a book about Caravaggio
Short-lived sinner/saint of light and shadow
As the grebes on the lake fluttered their separate ways.

Then two of the birds paired off, their fluid necks
And pressed breasts forming a heart that soothed my own.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

My wife and I held hands and stared in wonder
As the mates dove down for some grass to offer each other
While the rest of the grebes floated their separate ways.

—First published in Tule Review, Fall 2012; nominated for Pushcart Prize.

- See more at: http://santacruz.hilltromper.com/article/outdoor-poet-richard-levine#sthash.DTqWFT8I.dpuf

Turning Seventy at a B&B on Clear Lake

Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day
And the jagged hills didn’t monitor my heart
Nor the grebes on the lake float their separate ways.

Lost friends and lovers flitted through my mind
Like the yellow-bellied warblers in the sedge.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

I was reading a book about Caravaggio
Short-lived sinner/saint of light and shadow
As the grebes on the lake fluttered their separate ways.

Then two of the birds paired off, their fluid necks
And pressed breasts forming a heart that soothed my own.
Suppose for a moment I hadn’t turned seventy that day.

My wife and I held hands and stared in wonder
As the mates dove down for some grass to offer each other
While the rest of the grebes floated their separate ways.

—First published in Tule Review, Fall 2012; nominated for Pushcart Prize.

- See more at: http://santacruz.hilltromper.com/article/outdoor-poet-richard-levine#sthash.DTqWFT8I.dpuf

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