Category Archives: Poetry

Nimbus Apparatus is the poetry of Able Parris.

Two Clouds Before Sleep

By Able | March 17, 2008

[after a sunset]
A cloud moved, the tail of it could not keep up. Faintly
pressing into sky slowly, like creeping Spring
and the crumbling of time between two fingers.
I saw a falling shade of blue, a Sycamore, and two
bats feeding on a shifting plague. They circled about without tiring and without pause, while nearby
birds sat silent until morning for […]

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Remembering Centennial

By Able | March 14, 2008

[For Chris Tolles]
Chiseling away at the fallen Solomon branch
atop a dry peak, sweat wiped
away with golden leaves. Crooked sunlight breaking
through the gap while I, the carver, force
an improvised monument to carry his
name with chrystal joy across the lake below.
He has walked across this water
before, whispering crowd. Eternally
unmoving, now moved, and after an hour
of falling hammers, […]

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Folly

By Able | August 4, 2007

Wine makes men merry
We eat but never are full
The sun sets again

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Over Looking

By Able | August 4, 2007

The longer the jump
The longer the spree
The longer the absence will be

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Brown Coat, Silver Coat

By Able | August 4, 2007

Squirrels seem to stage
Acrobatic musicals
 While harvesting

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Hike You

By Able | August 4, 2007

Walking across pine
Mouth wet with juice of oranges
Eyes shaded by brim

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Gathering Roses

By Able | August 4, 2007

My thoughts overlap like shingles
over hidden emotion. Wedges of cedar
take the shape of a young man, content
but I walk along a wounded path
I have made a companion of my pipe
although some would not see it, I pray
Now the needles of the pines are hiding
the stars, and I see only two
or three. One that was a star […]

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Spring

By Able | April 18, 2007

With the opening of a glass notebook
I exhale and reach, as with hope for a flutter
These things linked by a ficus, roots withering
When flying up over mountains
All likeness of a child and pomegranate, plush
Pruning to give light to the center
When calling out your name
Slink, as with the falling of stairs
Harp and lyre
As a child, I ate like a […]

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Hebrews 3

By Able | April 18, 2007

Oh- The peak of this house
Stood, and then yelled from the praises
The praise echos fathers and sons
Echo and relieve a shouldered burden
With confessed heart, I the murderer
Walk streets with children and sleep at night
Mysterious, it is, that shadows have not
taken my day like my naked eye has undressed
Mountainsides with snowfall, a shudder
this echoing. This echoing. Still […]

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Lines of the City, Blurred

By Able | October 18, 2006

Tilted back and empty of war, I go about the business of my day
until, with cuffs rolled and a cigarette, the moon knocks on my door.
Suddenly upset and easily kindled, he moves toward me like a city
shadowed by a single cloud. Its jagged edges an eraser on the tip
of seven wooden pencils, rubbing out happiness. All I have
is the […]

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