the morning sun
lights up a spider’s single strand
stretching across the trail
a filament bristling like glass
as bright as any fiber optic thread
it makes no sound
as i pass through
expecting the tight twang
of a snapping violin string
or the light bell ring
of breaking glass
Tag: napowrimo2021
filtered light (20210419)
i steady myself against
the rotten tree
it cracks
breaks
falls
carpenter ants scatter
confused by this
home invasion
domestic destruction
this kaiju of a man
breaking things as
he lumbers through
the woods
isn’t this always the way
loud
clumsy
bending nature either by
accident
or design
but never truly passing through
like sunlight
between leaves
it’s just dessert (20210418)
there is a hierarchy of baked goods
beginning with crackers and ending
with pie
these are laid out on the y axis
you might want to include
the umami to amai trajectory
on the x axis
but this is based wholly on personal
preference
while pie’s superiority is absolute
shamisen (20210417)
with three strings
the winter blows into the room
glowing embers
haiku by the woods (20210416)
the sound of the birds
the sound of the frogs in the forest
the sun sets
out in the back (20210414)
swallowed the sun
through an invisible mouth
in my back
was it the mouth or the warmth
that made me me itch
that heated my blood
made me move
nursery rhyme (20210413)
i’m a little teapot
short and stout
ain’t got no handle
ain’t got no spout
when i get all steamed up
can’t even shout
gonna blow like a porcelain pottery bomb
the green tea and tea flood demands
pour me out, you sonofabitch,
and don’t forget to wash your hands
you can’t leave fingerprints
if you don’t have fingers
cat in the comfy chair (20210412)
i sink into the chair
the cat my instant companion
her butt in my face
walt whitman and the legal composting of the dead (20210411)
out of the ground
i steal a bucket of soil
from a previously dug grave
now a healed over wound
in the loamy earth
my theft is to make
a small amount of clay
not even a handful
an artistic experiment
(this is science)
extraction
solution
excitation
suspension
filtration
refinement
(this is magic)
ritual
burial
inspiration
reformation
resurrection
my breath is the breath
of my ancestors
and yours
my hands dig and mix and form
this clay
this body of our ancestors
what whitman has assumed
i have assumed
diary (20210410)
last night was windy
not so windy that any trees
came down
not near our house anyway
and there wasn’t much
to move out of the road
a few sticks
a few small branches
pine cones
today the sea was dark
not wine dark
and while there are whales
near
it did not bring to mind
the whale-path or swan-road
instead the water looked
dirty from a distance
churning up whatever
blew into her all-accepting embrace
tonight the sky is dark
time for a new moon
(as if the old one
isn’t good enough
or worn out–look at the holes!)
and even the stars seem
buried in that darkness
rather than shining through it
now
not much to clear from my mind
a few creaking trees
a little foam
starlight
Words and Feathers 