Let’s go barefoot in our latchet shoes;
bust up our pilgrim buckles!
Let’s wrap our heart in snakeskin,
send an answer to insult.
Let’s let go of our ammunition
and go a‘fowlin’ for days.
Let’s print some Dutch truth.
We will take this fight to Powder Point
out among the hipped roofs and boats.
Let’s be brave again and sign our name
to the long line of America.
I don’t think people like me much around here
Possibly because I’m not sorry enough
I’m not polite or contrite enough
When they lie and steal from me
When I meet someone
Who doesn’t need it all up-front
Who doesn’t hit on my wife
While I get them a smoke and one of my beers
Who doesn’t let their dog stomp my freshly planted garden
And who cleans up after it
I can safely say
You’re not from around here, are you?
Round here the roads are crumbling because of
the broken pipes underneath
And the roof leaks
On the new school, the new jail and the new courthouse
While the new library is sinking into the delta
And the lighting on the bridge is deemed unsafe
Because it’s rated “interior use only”
They say it’s time to raise my taxes
But not
Hey, didn’t your Uncle Jim-Bob wire that bridge?
Didn’t your cousin Sally-Bob put down that roof?
Didn’t your Pee-Paw supply that pipe?
No
Instead they tell me how rude I am
For stating the obvious
Remind me of their last names
And that they’ve lived in this town all their life
Give me an excuse that makes no sense
While their dog shits in my garden
Expecting me to nod my head
They lie to me again, smile and say
You’re not from around here, are you?
This love is everywhere
pointed–a needle clinging to longleaf pine
supple–legs lingering inside last year’s denim
hypnotized–the breather beguiled by the breath
spoon-billed–wading wetlands looking for leftovers
whispering–the way the devoted weep and pray
in the wild dew of dawn.
There’s a magic in this long-sun day.
Starts before the chime of six and stays
Until the dusk of night at ten or so.
Hours move easy time to work & play.
Not so, the shortest day full of cold,
Dark and no promises. Work not
Finished, play hides and cannot start.
Shrivels the world, hides the heart.
Pagans gave our sun its due, if we were
Smart we would too for it warms us,
Feeds us, commands the winds and rain.
We cheer and celebrate this longest day,
A gift to share and revel, a day to trust.
Hummingbird
suspends itself
inches from my glasses–
hangs there
for two or three seconds.
Its presence
does not betray
its action, and then
he buzzes away.
I am left with two thoughts:
either it deduced that
my eyes were not nectar
behind glass,
or
sunlight,
reflected,
blinded it
momentarily.
Everything folds in on itself.
Paper Crane.
Surrendering to all that is me.
Light.
Dark.
Light.
19.6.22 (Eight Months Later)
I miss the fridge magnets you took,
when the TI-84 pixelated graph
of our function to each other,
approached its closest limit
to the origin, before shooting away
into our opposite infinities;
the vertical asymptote of
which our lives tended towards,
now resides inside of a floral
cubical fabric storage bin, located
in a knockoff IKEA Kallax,
gained from helping your grandma
evict one of her tenants;
once bought from Kay Jewelers,
our promised convergience
now exists as an untouched artifact,
just as how our fridge magnets,
two shared halves of travel souvenirs,
repulse away, from a white refrigerator
our gastrointestinal tracts, once mutually,
shared their substantial nutrients from.
Standing outside in the rain, head tilted up
Mouth open.
It’s barely raining but the hope stays in mind.
Maybe if I keep my mouth open long enough,
enough rain will finally pour in to drown me.
Walk the line
Say nothing
Say something that means
Nothing
Like breath
In dark
River of mist
Refusing to lift
Kissing mountainside
Cool morning
Closure
Walk the line
It wasn’t said
Wasn’t acknowledged
Carried
It was carried
And covered
Birds rise in clamour
Soundlessly
Walk the line
Until you die
Two dimensional
Black and white sketch
On lined school paper
Composition
Without proofing
Pavement implosion
Twisting deliquescence
Delectable calculation
Like steam licking
On skin
Wavering
And whethering
Language limitation
Say anything
But That
Walk the blind
