Advice from the Hindenberg
There’s an air of smothered anxiety as we watch history unreel itself: Did the porter say: “Everything’s fine,” a minute before the spark Ignited? 7 million cubic tons of hydrogen set the silver sheath alight, the steel frame holding the Caged fire like a medieval torch. Were the thoughts of…
On summerfull days
On summerfull days I get drunk on trees Leaf heavy Breeze filled and softly swaying As if they hear music No one else can hear. Like drinking water From the sea at the world’s end: Not brackish No bitter, but clear and sweet As if bees brought honeycomb To soak in its depths. I drowse in their dreams Summer rainstorm Steady heat In their heartbeat a longing For what came before.
Hard Days are Dry Days
Hard Days are Dry Days Hard days are dry days On dry days it’s good to go find flowers Turn back the seasons to find summer and long dangling flowers from hanging pots smelling the green and bright colors in plastic pots Line the containers up on your porch pairing the colors to clash or to please As best pleases you Slice into the earth-molded shape of the pot, freeing up its roots to break them free
Questions for a 200 year old Elder
It was the moment her eye passed over me and the silence. The bone cold ocean current The cloud of fish pulling a veil between us The plankton, a shimmering cloud floating, bobbing in the surface above us The immensity of the darker water around and beneath me, My fins keeping me level To the blurry spot in her eye Where I was reflected before she blinked. Her immensity Swallowing the cloud above me, blocking the light. Her wake roiled me into the darkness below Making my questions irrelevant.
Nowadays, light is catching the edge of the world in a way that fascinates: Goldenrod mingled with sun-burnt coneflowers draw my eyes to the berm as I sit motionless in rush hour traffic. The sky rushes up buildings stone edges run down in patterns and shadows, while cars wait impatiently for me to cross the street, my eyes caught on a seagull diving low over the busy streets, its eyes honing in on a stray piece of bread left on the sidewalk.