#meteorology

Lee Ann Roripaugh

5:30 a. m.’s :: moon is a bitten lozenge :: the eucalyptus
trickle aching the toothy :: nubs of uncrowned stars—

drilled clean down and plain :: without novocaine or gas :: wind’s rhythmic bellows
swelling out from night’s hoarse throat :: sparking fever’s weird blue flame

~

october snow makes :: the day outside look like :: a kellog’s frosted flake
shush of tires / headlights’ flare / snow— :: hushed birds’ jingly murmuring

~

wake to find the wind :: blowing off-key with your sky :: sun melting down through
thick stacks of pancake-y clouds :: like a hot pat of butter

yesterday’s snow sleeps :: late this morning in quiet :: white sheets / while rickety
trees comb out fog’s heavy shanks :: of tangled, unruly hair

~

the loss of bright wings :: birdsong / the sound of night trains :: stretched between the bluffs
like pulled taffy / makes you feel :: a bit wistful / out of sorts

as gusted leaves buzz :: and whorl over snow-sugared :: roofs / but oh! this blown
fluttering’s not a swirling :: of leaves, but winter sparrows

~

ugh! snotted hoody :: pinkened tinge faint litmus stain :: (yes or no / minus
or plus) watercoloring :: blown-through tissues / torn storm blooms

~

bare honeysuckle :: bristling with squeaking sparrows :: occasional burst
of quarrelsome confetti :: like mushroom clouds of winged spores

the day gets woolly : : dollops of snow-gritted fog : : machine-spun sugar
carnival flossed / vortexing :: the thin cardboard sticks of trees

~

wet-dark tree beaded :: in pearled bits of wintry mix :: excited finch swoops
in manic parabolas :: to sip from the leaky eaves’

icicle / inside :: the riveted cat clanging :: the old windowpane
with the pealing tongue of her :: tail / sound of a sealed-shut bell

~

fleck-stung peppering :: thunderfrost / ice lightning :: a thick dangerous
glaze of frozen rain / sugar- :: stuck and snow-coning / becomes

a sticky windswirl :: spiraling in fog’s clotted :: milk / a stirring of
espresso-quick birds / matchstick- :: bright heads / scratchsulfur / panic-

flare / adrenaline’s :: low-grade slow blue flame / brillo :: pad clouds swollen with
more snow’s withheld scour / no one :: isn’t a sulky pansy

~

a winter count: :: boxes of kleenex – 4 / zicam :: spritzes – 64
echinacea tea – ran out :: icy hot patches – ran out

~

iced branches cased in :: glass / Murano somerso :: freeze-framed see-through beads
clicking like weird necklaces :: overstimmed birds’ weird shoutings

grackles pose and chuff :: in the sleet-stung glaze / songbirds’ :: quizzical whistling
there’s a sudden bunny in :: the alley / kicking up snow

~

it’s april 18 :: 31 degrees / the noon :: thick with wind and snow
and fog / chastened grackles hunch :: silent in the trees / whiten

~

a solipsism :: sudden as a dumped-out waste- :: basket of soggy
cottonballs / fat swarm of snow :: spilling down / tricky fizz and

glitter stubbed out on :: the tongue / silver thread of wren :: song needling the
mummy trees / silver stitch of :: chit and finch and chickadee

~

if you could, you would :: spend the whole day watching snow :: kiss the river’s up-
turned face / but even after :: the snow melts / it still courses

through the river’s veins :: and arteries / informing :: the chilled jade discourse
of all of the river’s thoughts :: all of the river’s dreaming

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Roripaugh's author photo

Lee Ann Roripaugh’s fifth volume of poetry, tsunami vs. the fukushima 50 (Milkweed Editions, 2019), was named a “Best Book of 2019” by the New York Public Library, selected as a poetry Finalist in the 2020 Lambda Literary Awards, cited as a Society of Midland Authors 2020 Honoree in Poetry, and was named one of the “50 Must-Read Poetry Collections in 2019” by Book Riot. She is the author of four other volumes of poetry: Dandarians (Milkweed, Editions, 2014), On the Cusp of a Dangerous Year (Southern Illinois University Press, 2009), Year of the Snake (Southern Illinois University Press, 2004), and Beyond Heart Mountain (Penguin, 1999). She was named winner of the Association of Asian American Studies Book Award in Poetry/Prose for 2004, and a 1998 winner of the National Poetry Series. The South Dakota State Poet Laureate from 2015-2019, Roripaugh is a Professor of English at the University of South Dakota, where she serves as Director of Creative Writing and Editor-in Chief of South Dakota Review. Roripaugh served as one of the jurors for the 2021 Pulitzer Prize in Poetry, and was appointed as the Mary Rogers Field and Marion Field-McKenna Distinguished Professor of Creative Writing at DePauw University for spring 2022.

Cover of #stringofbeads by Lee Ann Roripaugh

#stringofbeads is an homage to Heian-period Japanese poet Princess Shikishi’s elegant series of linked tanka journaling her days, experiences, and psychological weather—with a lens particularly oriented toward questions of place, ecopoetics, and climate change. #stringofbeads honors both the impulse and practice of Princess Shikishi’s poetics, but in a way that explores contemporary contexts, images, themes, intellectual discourses, and technology. Highways, airports, Pokemon, comics, and social media are all a part of this poet’s daily life and interactions, and are deliberately included within the frame. Determined by the aleatoric minutiae of chance encounters and observations, these tanka are meant to unfold in simple, attentive, daily gradations—like a strand of beads or pearls.

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