floating and leaving no trace
gray sky filled with clouds
and a cool breeze
is this a hint of autumn
portents of weather to come
but the forecast calls
for 80s and 90s
and more heat
and less rain
until el niño
rising like santa
from the sea
delivers his rains
in winter and spring
so fall we wait
i rest my thumb
in the valley of your spine
above your waist
as we cross the street
not so much to direct
as you know the way
and not so much to protect
because there’s no real danger
but in a sense
it is to protect something
–different than moving you
out of the path of an oncoming car–
to direct you
–not in a direction you
are not already going–
but more
this thumb
that vertebra
connect
today at the market
they had lechon
finally
after the last two times
i came to the counter
and asked
the first time they told me
they only have it on the weekend
the second time that they had run
out
and the greasy pork
with its fried skin
tasted so much better
now that i had cornered it
like i had hunted it down
and cooked it myself
It’s Haiku Time!
—–
the little girl chews
a cookie clutched in her hand
–waiting for dinner
he said
over a cup of coffee
i’m buried alive
in my own heart
i offered sugar
cream
but he waved them both
away
preferring it black
and hot
and bitter
not that i mind
he continued
it’s my heart
i found my way in
–why would i want to
to find my way out?
the great thing
about nihilism
is that it is an -ism
that doesn’t care
if you believe in it
or not
so go ahead
and stare into the abyss
you’re already a monster
and you terrify it
more than it does you
memory is butter yellow
sweet and salty
and soft at room temperature
i spread it out
on english muffins
that can scarce contain
the sound of your voice
that movie we saw–what was it?
and that word that means that
thing
right there
on the tip of my
let the knife slip in
cut
distribute
don’t let it drip away
and chase every luminescent droplet
with your finger
it’s tiring
all of this saving
you save one spider
that crawls across your sink
fighting the urge to smash it
only to rescue the moth
the cat has trapped
by the sliding glass door
and you sigh
when you find the ant
crawling on your sleeve
maybe from the bush
you passed on the walk
and you brush it off
though you know if you found it
in your kitchen
you would have smashed
even mercy
tires
and only the memory
of reincarnation
stays your finger
suspended in the air
we wait for you
moon
only a glimpse captured
so far
while walking the dog
and we had to dare traffic
walk into the street
and peer around a tree
to see a sliver of
fingernail
painted red like it’s date night
only an hour left
before you begin to recede
and you’re not high enough
to see
and my binoculars
are no better than
regular eyes
until you cooperate
a hummingbird is
trapped in my chest
its wings furiously beat
against the ribs
just left of center
and the world has become
awash in water
and it floods my ear canals
and everything is muted
except for that bird
and its furious wings
Words and Feathers 