Tim Tipton

TIM TIPTON


The Pea Coat

Arranging the lost closet of clothes

you will no longer wear.

I come to find that old pea coat of yours.

The one you wore all the time like a suit of armor.

I took the coat to my nose.

This gesture endeared me to you absolutely.

In this visual world,

this modern landscape of polyester,

cotton, nylon, and pigment,

it is the smell inside this damn coat

that almost holds what’s left of you.


Thinking of Makala Again

There will always be moments

in my life

When my days get derailed

thinking about Makala

again

Wondering where she is,

if she thinks of me

There are always places

where I see her

a gentle winter rain that opens

into vistas of skies filled

with clouds

a soft light over foreign

cities

New York in her springtime

Makala walking

on damp sidewalks

littered with bright

yellow flowers

I feel her presence on hot

August days when I

feel calm breath of summer air

from the window

The seasons the heart remembers

How beautiful her face was

close to mine. How real

Makala was next

to my loneliness.

How I miss her.


The Rain

The rain has stopped

The moon has come out

I don’t understand the first thing

About the Pacific, but I think the current

travels better just after a good rain

When the air is damp

The green sea wails the spirit signs of darkness

And I long to be out there

With the fish

swimming

Can anything be more wonderful?

I love the sea, it satisfies me beyond any measure

I have a passion for the strong secret tide

That flows in my blood

The foam breaking on the sand

Water becoming water

My breath touching the night air.


The Sound of Water

It’s steelhead season.

The sun floats in a white mist.

I am very happy to walk along the river

where life breathes through the blue­green

ripples and I find comfort in a pair of ducks

breaking into flight upriver shining in

morning light.

The green growing things on the ground.

I stand at the bank and close my eyes

and savor the out­rush of quietness.

I want to get lost in a world I never

lived: be happy sitting at a bank

all day fishing, carving something

beautiful out of wood, and paddle a raft

to a salvation of solitude. To be drawn

to nature, to be it, and want nothing more

than to hear the sound of water flowing.

I can’t tell you how happy that would make me.


Inside a Dream

Inside a dream

my mouth is around

your mouth like a

glove.

Everything is natural

the swell of your

bee­stung lips and

the burning of

my deepest want.

Free to dissolve

in a brand new

world.

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