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Samuel Peralta: The Physical Meaning Of Geometrical Propositions

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-physical-meaning-of-geometrical.html

The Physical Meaning Of Geometrical Propositions. You remember - perhaps more than love –. The staircase of uncounted hours,. Conscientious reason, past disdain. Of feeling. Geometry sets out. Simple propositions, axioms: We. Follow those axioms, derived, reduced. To the last question, unanswerable. By the methods of geometry. We. Cannot ask. We can only say that. Geometry deals with two, tally. Assertions, the word ‘true’, the habit. Of correspondence, connection. We are. Who would have thought? Elegant...

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Samuel Peralta: Floodwaters

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2012/11/floodwaters.html

Tonight, I am six again, and your. Hands hold me shivering there,. Anchored to your shoulders,. Navigating waters lapping now my. Knees, your chest, rising like the. Storm’s dark curse. Now here, your. Gnarled hand in mine, in prayer,. I bow my head and thank what. Vagrant providence gave me you -. If only for this briefest time, this. Night - who laddered me to higher. Ground, my weathered ark, my rock. What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Short link - http:/ bit.ly/s4flood. Incredibly touching a...

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Samuel Peralta: Sky (December 1955) - an excerpt

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2013/01/sky.html

Sky (December 1955) - an excerpt. I remember sunlight,. Clear as divination, an open. Meteorology. I remember. The world splayed open like. An unfolded map,. The castle’s ridged. Latitude scaled against the carp-mouth. Otagawa river’s stream, swirling and. Through branches, the elms thumb-tacked. Elevations on a contour map,. Encircled. And I. Remember the faint shadow of. The plane, its. The pale throat of sky,. This is an excerpt from a verse novel in progress. Beautiful. I especially like:. Nice work ...

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Samuel Peralta: The Passage

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-passage.html

Only the sea keeps. Inside the tornado,. The conjuror’s bird. The hundred secret senses,. The gates of exquisite view. This is a sorted-book, or spine, poem, assembled from the titles of books in my library. As such, it may be looked at as a cento of book titles, or a found poem. Very well done Sam. Wish I could take part but books and camera hidden/lost under dust sheets as I (procrastinate as I) decorate this room. Thank you, Sam. The hundred secret senses,. Very clever combination Sam! This prompt was...

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Samuel Peralta: N. poeticus

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2013/12/n-poeticus.html

It started with your voice, your shimmering breath. Spiraling downward through the water's depth -. Calling - so strange! My name. I rose, undreamed,. And came to you. Across that space it seemed. The world unfolded of itself, a findern. Flower, pheasant's eye, the unfilled cistern. Of your heart. Then I came upon you, lost,. Pitiful - until you saw me there, ghost. Of your ghost, shade of your shade, reflection. Of your longing. You bent to me, passion. Finding mirrored passion, the gloaming coal. In th...

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Samuel Peralta: Noir

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2013/05/noir.html

At the violet hour, a tent’s unexpected. Shelter from constables and rain. Past doorway, beaded. Threshold, the lacqueria, the ivory familiars. She sat, eyes askance from my Smith and Wesson, unsheathed,. As if that gypsy woman had been waiting for me,. A calendar square, red-circled, a covenant due. On her table a wicked pack of cards – semblable,. Soeur sinistre, clairvoyante extraordinaire. 8211; “Look! She said. “Your past exhumed: The Lovers. Once entwined, torn. By avarice and Fortune’s Wheel.

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yayoi | expatinCAT's Blog

https://juca2.wordpress.com/2015/03/02/yayoi

I squeeze the rock and dip my pen…. March 2, 2015. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email. First snow / the colour / of absence #senryu.

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Samuel Peralta: A Mother

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2009/06/a-mother.html

Next year, we promised ourselves,. We'd have to get it for her next year,. That sculpture in cork and ivory:. Framed in a world of glass,. A house smaller than her thumbnail. And trees and reeds. And a bridge to an island. Where miniature cranes spread their wings. When she saw it first, a month ago,. At that shop in Ayala,. She held it up to the light. She was so afraid it would slip! Her dreams were larger. Than our twelve-year-old pockets. Instead, papa helped us wrap up. A china cat we'd found. This ...

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Samuel Peralta: Winter Fray

http://semaphore1.blogspot.com/2013/03/winter-fray.html

Six inches, after the first storm. A whir. Of blades across the snow-packed pavement's trench,. And the blower splattered across the fence. A Pollock canvas, an hoarfrost-strewn blur. From the Tecumseh engine's angry burr. Against winter, this is your armament -. A 2-stage, 11-hp, 30-inch,. Pull-start, self-propelled silverback monster. She fought back with seven inches, her scrawl. Strafed across the night's blackboard sky like chalk. A quick change of spark plugs after a stall,. I like how you weave in...