Origami Microchap

Selected Poem(s)

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Cover collage:

Leaf grillwork over

'Selkie Song' by Lauri Burke

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Ophelia’s Ghost 

Is asking for a towel and a brush or a comb—
there is watercress in her hair and who knew
the river was so cold in September
despite the long arms of the sun reaching,
reaching
round trunks of trees, through breaks
in the canopy. Reaching even
the fins of the silver fish that dart
when a cloud (and she) pass over them.
I am less than a handful of rain.  Even my name
tumbles from your mouth like sky.
I am lighter than a swirling leaf,
caught in the current.
I am that easily taken,
that easily, carried away

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I Spent the Afternoon

With Emily Dickinson. We invited
Auden in (just for a cup of Tea) but
Gave him a small cake to keep him
From lecturing on Love and Fate
And how Death is fine except
It lasts so dismally long.

Emily asked after You.
And the Clover in the field and how
The Midnight Garden smelled and
If it had room for the Moon.

Everyone thought I was lonely, she said,
But how could I be?
I was Part of Everything.
Ask Fly. Ask Bee.

•

We are the principle
Of uncertainty

We are the principle
Of uncertainty
Just like this night is
Just like a dream is.
We can’t know
Both where we are
At a given moment
And where we are headed
At the same time.
Love is like a wave;
We can measure its pulse
But not where it is
(it is here, now here, now here)
Nor where it will land
Or how fiercely.

The truth about love 

The truth about love
Is dusted in pollen,

Beats like a moth’s wings, comes
Unbidden.

Lodges deep
in bones in music
in corners in clouds.

Can swallow an ocean.

Refuses to sleep.

Is in the branches of every tree--
is the shape of a finch

Is the buzzing of bees.

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When I was a Bird

I didn’t mind the hollow feeling in my bones.
Didn’t know the blue of my eyes
like the blue of the egg, speckle
In the light.

I learned the world through sound;
my mother’s voice, a pulse of sugar,
ten thousand winds,

the tap and sway of branches.
I did not know my name until you said it.

And did I dream the rush of air, wings and hasty landings.

Learned all the words for departure; flee,
fly, disappear,
exodus, parting, farewell.

I leave like air.
I go like water.
Hunger is a seed planted deep in me.

The opposite of leaving is where I find you.
And wake you, a beating heart,
a flash of wings.
The room now, filled with birdsong.
I say, say, say your name.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2020

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Cover collage with background art

by Lauri Burke

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1st five poems previously published
by University of Iowa.
‘When we were gods’ is
original to this publication 

Of all that we lost in the flood, that damned cat Fisher, haunts me most. We were in Minneapolis visiting Melissa's mother when the levee broke. Left Fisher in the basement, to keep him out of trouble. I've never liked cats, but this was no way to die, clinging to a dusty, cobwebbed ceiling.

The river filled the attic. Left silt on everything. I dream about our house underwater, Trout slipping from room to room, catfish sucking algae off the television.

We keep life-vests under our beds now, and the kids whine, but all they're getting are goldfish. Survivors.

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The Old Elm

In the corner of our front yard there was a giant Elm tree that our neighbor's son died under. Carefully, I'd look for the lightening's mark, a wound, the secret that explained why the old tree lived when Dennis died.
Did his mother, Mrs. Demars, stand at the kitchen window, rapping her fist on the glass, saying, "No Dennis! Didn't I tell you to never stand under a tree when there's lightening?" Was she as thin as a daisy then?

Or did that come later, so that a slight breeze was all she needed to remove her from this earth?

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2019

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Cover collage by Jan Keough

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Luster

We tip the oysters into our mouths,
Swallow the sea.

Even the wine and the glass and the forks
Honey the light.

The trees outside frosted in new snow
Flirt with the moon.

I want to paint my body
All the colors you have me feeling.

The cinnamon core of midnight,
the essence of an orange.

What if what we’re trying to capture
is how the world moves, its sheen?

When all we can do
Is move with it

Be the verb
Of every noun we speak.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2019

Luminosity

I’m not sure if it’s the light
Or the new snow that has each branch
of the Maple lit
From above—the bark, a burnt umber
Bent and gnarled, curving towards the sun.
And who wouldn’t, bend towards the sun
On this February day so cold
it hurts to breathe.
Who wouldn’t let the sun highlight
Every flaw, every imperfection—
even the shadows
Can’t hide a thing.
They lie long and pale
Mirroring the life the sun has found,
made shine.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2019

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Cover collage by Jan Keough

*

A Field Guide

To help curious people understand
what a soul made of weather feels.

A strong desire to avoid the use
of complicated explanations,

Let’s keep it simple.

Watch the clouds, predict the coming
storms, try to keep our hats on
in wind and pressure relationships.

Poems that can be
replicated in our own skin.

Small enough to fit in a pocket.
Essential

when studying the sky
and what falls from it.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2017

Abandon

We fill the house with birds.
Turn shadows whole.
Wear them like skin.

Life, in abandon, is a beautiful mess.
No picking up.
No putting back.

The emptiness the sun finds--
we climb into,
make it our bed.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2017

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Cover: 'La Corona' by author

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Las Estrellas

I want to divide blue
the way you do. Be the
filament that sets day apart
from night, land from air,
longing from love.
I want to be the air that moves you,
be the burning song you sing.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2017

La Poetisa

And so I’ll tell you that mine
is a windswept view. Sky
streaky and azure, clouds thin
and transparent as my skin,
as my love pure blue. Future
elusive as the space
in my heart I’ve reserved
for something true.
Mine is a frozen land
crystalline and white.
Mine is a foreign land
made of balsa, ink and night.
I bury my desire under layers,
Hope no one can see
there is nothing as clear
as sun on ice, nothing as
cold as my hands, empty of light.

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Julia Klatt Singer © 2017

A Small Promise at Your Door

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Cover art by author

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The Map of our World

We mapped out our world
in the empty lot.
Scratched our love
into the dirt.
When the rain came
let it river, let it glisten
on our skin.

Seven Ways

We number our days 
Tally the hours 
Count down the miles 
Love in unequal measures. 
Seven ways to say 
I love you. Seven more 
I keep to myself.