looking for a spider
the cat halts
watching her reflection
Tag: writer
in the shadow of the tree (20210405)
you are an egg
in shape and substance
a potentiality
attached to the earth
stretching heavenwards
though you need
no sun
never breathing with
those gills
the moss remains a memory
green taste in your mouth
the muddy footstep fills with rain
religious experience on easter (20210404)
the forest god
makes an appearance
this time triumvirate
an earth mother
flanked by muscle
that always accompanies
true sacredness
the grass bends under her step
did you think she
would leave no trace
no evidence
she asks no questions
gives no answers
not even hints
only long meaningless stares
she is gone
the ground thumping
like the hollow log
that it is
sea legs (20210403)
at low tide
we walk the shore
i stop
the sand
tries to pull me in
you have twice as many feet
twice as many chances to
free yourself
you yearn toward the sea
while i hesitate
we return from the salt
to higher and drier ground
spring (20210402)
young deer forage for apples
nessun dorma plays on the radio
my neck bones dry-leaf crackle
open handed (20210401)
separate neatly skin from muscle
more finesse required than i offer
with a single hand
the second an object of dissection
inspection perhaps retaliation
are these bones robot parts
unfinished machines sensitive to
heat pain inflammation
infection inflection
the dictionary squeezed
until only ashes drift down
ashes like snow
ashes like dehydrated tears
ashes like ashes
natural deselection (20200914)
the abandoned white bicycle
beneath the hemlock tree
in the blackberry bramble
a single baby bootie
the forest is eating children
you get what you need (20200617)
you get what you want
if what you want
is a backhand
from the ticking
winding down
clock
the second hand
gives you the finger
–good job, asshole!
only time has mastered
sarcasm
grab a shovel
don’t forget to measure
yourself first
we will all get buried standing up
can’t let change
fall out of our pockets
or our hips dislocate
during rapture
alien abduction
other failures of gravity
give us the greening grass
below our feet
or else
above all your heads
potential (20200409)
hold the flashlight up
under my chin
like a suicidal jedi knight
breathe out
empty those lungs yogi-style
in the light a vapor forms
the amorphous shape
undulates away
disappears as water droplets
spread and the temperature
between them and the adjacent air
becomes insignificant
exhale again
step into
the little cloud of myself
feel nothing
neither the sudden cooling
of nighttime sea spray
nor the volcanic steam
of the just finished running dishwasher
just nothing
and is this
–i wonder aloud to the dog–
what ghosts don’t feel
when they pass through
one another?
the fit of melancholy (20200407)
the poor are still poor
the dying still die
those obsessed with power
wrap themselves in disaster
like moths in cocoons
only to emerge stinking of
blood
self-righteousness
their own vile shit
weaponize everything
the weapons
the disease
the cure
cockroaches
are time travelers
come back to honor
their ancestors
