Category: Uncategorized

. . . ice sheets,
dark, deep cracks
vomiting streaks of tears,
oceans swallowing
the shores of memory.
. . . behold footprints
of forgotten futures
weeping their waste.
hollow hopes,
looming loss palling
and palling the
air as fun-flying smokes
of industrial farts evangelise
suffocation on the
[sur]face of Earth.
a world. wordly. look.
a world colouring its
cutis like the decayed
dermis of dead leaves.
enough. enough of
toxic torture. we either
live here or leave here—
one should teach us how to
be environmentally born-again.

Tell your people we are hungry
Tell your army we are harmless
Stop eating our land
Cease fire
And let us be

Dying fish in our rivers
Rotten trees
We are kind and innocent
Vulnerable creatures
And mean no harm

Why would you steal our home?
Hurt our skin
Hunt our sanctuaries
We were here before you were
Learned to live
Free from smoke and war

Tell your people we are hungry
Tell your army we are harmless

I kneel to feel
kinship with the
sixteen or so sow bugs
shriveled on the floor.

Moths struggle to free
wings stuck to dusty spoons
leaving their bodies to act as
second scented candle wicks.

Spiders keep company,
spindly legs and sticky strands
weave six inches of webs to
serve sow bugs on a silver
sliver of bathroom
tile.

when i was thirteen
i used to pull rocks from creeks
opened them up – watched
as they remembered how to breathe
surgery for an old body
as a payment the creek would let me drink
a part of you for my work – in me
cause a riot after
vomiting all of our operation
like a parasite i’d go back for more
i was so young
i wanted to perform surgery to save anything

Driving in a trance, I see the owl
trembling feathers, unmoving body
lying within human margins of twisted highway.

I drive past it, take the exit
push the hazard button on my dash
step out onto asphalt as cars and trucks blast

air strong enough to whisper oceans
into my ears-make me reconsider walking
interstate 95 for a forlorn owl.

But she is alone up ahead
so I walk to her stillness
see the cold grip of her talons as I wrap her in my coat.

Heavier than expected
I imagine her full of gasoline
from the tank of the car that she collided with

blink back the thought
and force myself to imagine a circle of feathers
protecting me from cars.

Even in this sleep she commands
the wind. I place her in my empty trunk
and hope she is merely stunned.

I turn the radio off. Ride in silence
for the last twenty minutes
to my lover’s house. I walk inside

ask for a box, some gloves and
say, follow me:
There’s an owl in my trunk.

I slide gloves on, wear my now familiar mask
unwrap my coat and see the Owl
in some ways for the first time

the yellow hook of a beak, comically small
face like a hand thrown clay bowl, tail feathers
sweep boldly back. Trees bow in a quiet repose

Her stillness is full
I know I have only two hours
before returning home to my family

as I stroke the mottled feathers
and stare into vacant black eyes
Knowing it will take all the time

we have together for the week
still I ask, “Can we bury her?”
she graciously lets me drive to the park

I lay the owl under a birch tree
and as the sun sets we cover her
with twigs, branches, lichen and cattails

Our thoughts heavy with silence
as we bend to work alone together.
When finished, the final golden hour sun

lights up our gently laid pile like a pyre
and we hold each other.
Leaving as the dusk drew the life from the moment.

We walked to the beach to find any color that remained
until the full moon rose and the cold crept
into our hands, now talons themselves.

In this in between space,
in the year we’ve lost so much,
we buried an owl

Hidden deep within our core
is the nature of our being.
When you lose touch
and you are no longer seeing….
The wild will be there
calling you home for your freeing.
So you can once again roam
with bare feet on sand domes…
March with the ants
while you follow bees
to their honeycombs…
Then roll in the dirt
and make holes in your pants…
And imagine a dance in her tall green fields…
A sight to be seen and a chance to hear
the grasshopper orchestra beam!
Their music so dear
you can’t help but say a cheer!
And the smell of warm summer dew
still lingers even after, it’s true.
If you listen carefully,
you can hear laughter in every flower
and the joy it brings is her real power.
Let her shower you with love
under the blue skies
and light up your soul with her sweet fireflies.
It’s only when you get lost in the wild,
that you once again
find your inner child.
Let the wild call you home…

by the changing light
the sway of blousy pines
all the patent beauty
that abounds, the seasons’
adornments cum destruction.

Then a spider, carnival red
nearly too small to see alights
on the lip of a white rose And
in all your years, you have never
seen a spider so rare so red.

Yet it has come your way
urging you to see the small
and smaller yet, to reminisce
Whitman’s blades of grass
beside the plebian slip of stone.

Now fanatic, frantic for all
once unseen down on hands
and knees a knowing beast
then up and up— a wingless toil
into the waiting tree.

All to praise the infinitesimal
you once so easily failed to see.

We are what we see in dreams
The mirage just out of reach, rising
Out of airshimmering heat that ripples
In waves, rising and falling,
No less of us than the sensuous touch
That pricks to life perception,
Than the honeycomb delicacy that drips
In droplets from the corners of our lips
Lapping in, consuming the sweetness

Any sense that we belong to the mountain mist
Is realized in the westward winds
Chasing the sun as it sets, holding dusk in suspension
So that we might be a little longer
So that we might stay a little longer
For a moment, we sink into stone
We feel its permanence; but we remind ourselves of mist
Breathing in the sighs of nearing night
Breathing out the wellwish of dawn
Watching for the rising eyes of stars
Pinpricks into histories of distant galaxies
We are of this to be of anything at all

What do we miss most
Before the moon rises on tired land
Casting its luminosity across the sea
Antegrade nostalgia fills the shadows
Of what will not be tomorrow
We pull the moon’s coolness across our shoulders
Joined together in the moment’s stillness
Reciting mantras of memories
For smiles and bees, for the subtle breeze
That will not be tomorrow
But we are of the hour, bodies made of dreams,
For a moment in moonlight we are there
To be anywhere at all

Wind w(here) are you coming from? Is it from the north-northeast Or south-southwest? SWoosh. Moderate breeze 17mph. Are you staying? SWoosh. Fresh breeze 23mph.

Why is it getting colder? SWooSh. (Why) are you getting stronger? SWooSh. Strong breeze 30mph. SWOOSH, SWOOSH, SWOOSH, (why) are you p-u-s-h-i-n-g me? Out/side.

Don’t you see the (LeAvE)s shaking, SiGnS shaking, and people waiting.

WhY aRe YoU MakinG iT CoLd?

High (wind) 38mph.

Wind it is no longer sunny, Out/side.

SWOOSH, SWOOSH, to the Right

… SWOOSH, toward the Left.
Now to t(h)e right r(ea)ching to the t(r)ee.

SWOOSH, SWOOSH,

SWOOSH, SWOOSH

SWOOSH,SWOOSH…

Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep.

⚠️EMERGENCY ALERT!

Tornado warning in this area

till 2:20 am EDT.

Take shelter now.

Check local

Media -NWS

Oh, Sacred Mountain
Oh, lush green fields
Out of heartbreak, such delicious irony

We love the fruits
Of hard work and victory
But Franken-fruits or agent oranges
Surely end as ash in our mouths

Oh, Sacred Mountain
Oh, lush green fields
Say it, don’t spray it. Where are the bees?

Our crops may be bug-free, though something lingers
Doubt? Or a more sinister residue? I’ll pass on the Dee Dee Tea
Can’t see the forest for the trees?
We just want to keep our seeds

Oh, Sacred Mountain
Oh, lush green fields

Our heirlooms are sacrosanct

Now swallowed by a bigger fish
From Bavaria? The name rings a bell
Moral now? Hero or a heroine? Not quite
An early trademark was heroin

Oh, Sacred Mountain
Oh, lush green fields
Now bought by those who made Zyklon B

Seed sovereignty lost; nature patented
Merged with users of forced labor
Whose trucks drove under the ARBEIT MACHT FREI arch
And knowingly spread HIV

Oh, Sacred Mountain
Oh, lush green fields
How can you sleep?