web in the morning (20210420)

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

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

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

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