A Month of Sunrises

a jonathan potter project

radio towers rising
in distant foreground
orange sky bruised clouds

aftermath of last night’s storm
pine limbs dangle down
into soft darkness

this phenomenon
of the sun rising
tears open the eastern sky

even if obscured
by the horizon of sleep
or the day’s darkness

sunrise on game day
the sun a fiery ball
blazing from the east

god throwing a curve
across reality’s plate
and the day’s at bat

canal bordering
my mother’s backyard
snakes towards the rising sun

thumb-smear of orange horizon
inkblot trees ghost clouds
gravel road ready

sky salmon spawning
vermilion moments
ponderous deep lavenders

reality bearing down
lifting up the sky

morning pink and pale
pauses to wake up
contemplating the meaning

of the dream before waking
driving the wrong way
down a one-way street

garbage day dawning
the sun hidden like the week’s
discarded debris

behind the residential
slumbering malaise
faintly peach to blue

orange reptilian eye
burning through the pines
this early autumn

sunrise from the highest point
i could find at hand
crawling out of sleep

memory of trees
darkening up the mountains
hills like ocean waves

the city below
people opening their eyes
an orange turning

overcast autumn
cloudshapes form an eye
or mouth’s ambiguous lips

masking the sunrise drama
as reality
comes up behind me

airport sunrise through
the glossy glass of
half past seven’s fluorescent

rectangles’ tangle with the
underlying sky
i’m about to fly

jet lag bronze meringue
morning’s calm glowing
debussy blue-film distance

layer on layer lighting
the thought of dreaming
of coffee and cream

beaconsfield backyard
tree creatures greeting
the golden island rising

from earth’s insistent turning
from last night’s gloaming
this rose-mauve morning

the veil of the sky
horizons river
mutes the unbrazen sunrise

unheralded by trumpets
ducks swim languidly
near the lapping shore

astronomy tells
me the sun rose this morning
while i was sleeping

i take the sunrise on faith
the grey morning dull
the sky unscripted

hunting the sunrise
over saint joachim
the sky as god’s cast-off thought

on the day of rest
the sky as a placebo
for work’s medicine

the clouds are keepers
of the buoyant secrets
of the morning’s silent bells

mount royal lookout rises
above the city
breathes crimson questions

what is the color
of morning itself
green dark-green light-green yellow

luminescent bright-fringed shades
of lavandula
pink-white hints of red

rising with the horizon
flying away from
the morning being

borne on nothing but
air which is a kind
of nothing that is something

planets turn suns rise
clouds hills trees mountains
converse in color-tinged tongues

somber ocean-gorgeous
tangerine language
tastes reality

cathedral tower
where humans climb stone
gold-railed steps to the golden

sky enjambed with particles
and waves of searing
syllables of light

god spoke from the clouds
the universe spoke
you yourself spoke marigold

luminous amber mumbles
breathing enormous
breaths of thought and love

jackolantern cloud
october’s charm turns
dismal dismally charming

candle sun struggling wick
blue on blue on blue
trees suggest christmas

before the sunrise
i open one eye
glance at the sliver of faint light

at the edge of the
closed window curtain
resume sleep dream the same scene

cobalt autumnblue
umbilical cloud
cerulean slow fury

lamppost lastleaf powerline
smokestack freewayscape
darkhope beginning

morning tells orange
secrets to blue sky
with goldfringed inuendo

foretells the day’s falling leaves
prospect of early
sunset and slumber

wallowa mountains
look up look up a message
drifts in drifting wisps

of morning’s inscape
of migrant cloudshapes’ shifting
dim dazzling light

like dante i put
one foot over the
other for some hard climbing

up out of confusion to
the moraine ridgetop
to see the sun rise

morning gathers grey
debts and spreadsheets them
above money-colored trees

grey makes rain earn a living
sky a blank check no
daylight in savings

  what does the sunrise
     mean just the turning
of blind mechanical forces

resulting in a beautiful
orange accident
blessing our nothing

silhouette of trees
against a pale cantaloupe
sky slowly turning

bright with distant light
as the sun rises below
beyond direct sight

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