#david budbill

[dabiconcordia]

Sweet Early Spring When the understory of the woods is flattened and you can see the contours of the earth, the rock out-croppings--—all this just after the last pockets of snow disappear, while everything is still sere, brown, gray—--when now and then a woodcock whistles or you can hear a lone goose going somewhere--—all this, this sweet early spring—-- with no bugs at all, none, not a single one—-- this clear, beautiful and brief moment, this emptiness—-- this is the time I love the best—-- before the world fills up again with insects, leaves, brush, birds, green, a last brief rest—-- quiet and peace—-- before I have to turn and face the lush and fertile, noisy spring. by David Budbill

[sageandscorpiongrass]

Chronic.

on illness and fatigue

A Poem About Pain, David Budbill | She Used to Be Mine, Waitress | Under One Small Star, Wislawa Szymborska | Burried, Ashe Vernon | Vive, Vive, Traci Brimhall | Chronic Pain, NHS Inform | Drawing Restraints, Agnes Cecile | Half-Life in Exile, Hala Alyan | Body Terror Song, AJJ | Unknown | Battlefield, Topaz Winters | White Oleander, Janet Fitch | Boy In The Bubble, Alec Benjamin | Quote by Richard Siken | Autoimmune Disease, Anna and Elena Balbusso | In The Pines, Alice Notley | Twenty, Silas Melvin

[heartattackkidd]

chronic pain

the mountain goats // mother mother // david budbill // ajj // kim-anh schreiber

[apoemaday]

Toward the End of August

by David Budbill

Toward the end of August I begin to dream about fall, how this place will empty of people, the air will get cold and leaves begin to turn. Everything will quiet down, everything will become a skeleton of its summer self. Toward

the end of August I get nostalgic for what’s to come, for that quiet time, time alone, peace and stillness, calm, all those things the summer doesn’t have. The woodshed is already full, the kindling’s in, the last of the garden soon

will be harvested, and then there will be nothing left to do but watch fall play itself out, the earth freeze, winter come.

[sashayed]

What Is June Anyway?

After three weeks of hot weather and drought,            we've had a week of cold and rain, just the way it ought to be here in the north,             in June, a fire going in the woodstove all day long, so you can go outside in the cold             and rain anytime and smell the wood smoke in the air.

This is the way I love it. This is why            I came here almost fifty years ago. What is June anyway           without cold and rain and a fire going in the stove all day?

David Budbill (1940-2016) Tumbling Towards the End, 2017

[elizabethanism]

Happy Tuesday, everyone.

[goneahead]

Of Two Minds

As Ryokan said,

Truly I love this life of seclusion.

Then why do I pine away

for a visit from friends?

And why,

when they do come,

why is it that all I can think about

is how to get away,

back into the woods, back to my life

of seclusion?

~~David Budbill

[hiddenbehindmycreativity]