Not Even Halfway Through Winter
waiting for something to fall,
to be broken through, to crumble
a faulty form of weaving, s scent of unraveling
holding up to the wind to winnow, to filter,
to enhance with partial exposure
sheets in the wind and rain, thread count, space count
what chords at what speed driven where, the margin of humidity
window air, patchwork air of various -parencies, -lucencies
& focus lengths, unstill reflections in attention’s pan,
refractions in chameleon-eye air
the angle and speed of my turning
enticing vision to correct itself
to not accept how others see it
what’s 20 got to do with it
a thirst for light, a jones for void
trust that the air will be there
that we can get back without turning around
the shaker says salt, white crystals come out, but
the language of reality is changing but mine continues
its erratic spread, away from the weave
pockets in the turbulence, fairly still, somewhat porous
certain angles get in at certain times
of day or season, wind speed and direction
my breath isn’t me, thee world outside my window
as distant as the snippet lives and headlines on my screen
I tempt the mirror to enter, we take time to reflect
but don’t talk about projection, giggle at conjecture,
not all injections are judged equally, the strength
to reject rejection, to bathe in rain, the endless potential
in all these shades of grey
Re Quest
Can a story be all questions
Will this ladder hold me
Is the water safe to drink
I talk to myself to be ready if anyone else appears
Are there times light is more important than heat
If the sound is coming from both directions, do I have to choose
or wait, learning to doppler, to separate, sending agents or drones
while staying at home, monitoring more sources than I have fingers
Is there somewhere so barren you can’t tell if there’s wind just by looking
When putting on more clothes makes me colder
Where every window and mirror is a monitor, taking more than they give
Is there any personal data left in me
Can a story be nothing but facts, connecting conjectures
above my pay grade, the only AI I can access is Advertising Intensive
My credit score is too low cause I pay all my bills
and have only one card—what kind of a story is that
Like a topographical map of time, mountain ranges of wars and plagues
narrow valleys of peace and isolation. I’m nowhere on the map
now here, as the map continues to scroll and evolve
Why are the same stores at every exit
Why do gas prices rise as my tank nears E
Time for a new chapter in a new city in my fictional memoir
of what’s to come—is it my fault reality didn’t read the script
yet sends its own consequences, sometimes misaddressed,
rarely with instructions, never a return response
Dan Raphael, a vibrant presence in Portland’s poetry scene since 1977, engages as poet, performer, editor, and reading organizer. His anthology Impulse & Warp: The Selected 20th Century Poems showcases works from his initial 13 collections. Notable among his new poetry volumes are The State I’m In, Breath Test, and Showing Light a Good Time. Collaborating with jazz artists Rich and Carson Halley, he released the CD Children of the Blue in February. With over 250 performances, including Wordstock and Portland Jazz Festival, Dan’s impact extends across diverse venues. Editor of NRG magazine for 17 years, he founded 26 Books, spotlighting regional poets. Additionally, he curated reading series at Borders and St Johns, and orchestrated the monumental event Poetland, featuring 80 poets across 8 locations in an 8-hour span.
Sparks of Calliope 