Oh, the panic that comes with the blaze
struggles to breath and closed airways
troubled I stare at a smoky haze
aware that my heart runs relays
The green sets in and begins the craze
questions arise as I rush through a maze
occasional breakthroughs but also delays
I sit and I wonder if it’s only a phase
answers appear but I’m puzzled for days
hand me a clearer mirror to veer from my troublesome ways
Young leaves sigh in the breeze
Ant ferries bits of food to its nest
Fat, pollen-legged bee caresses the petals
of a rough-leafed dogwood blossom
Rabbit contemplates clover in a beam of light
Groundhog, ever the critic takes one bite
from each ripening tomato and moves on
Chest rises and falls
breathing in and
breathing out
Breath mixing with the breath of
the leaves
the ant
the bee
the rabbit
the groundhog
Breath rising to mix with all the breath on the planet All the animals the plants Breath turning to rain turning to plants turning to animals turning to breath Mixing with all the breath on the planet
Bee buzzes
ant ferries
rabbit muches
Groundhog moves on
My daughters were giving me one-word poetry prompts. One of my girls gave me the word, “she,” and I ended up writing this:
Hey there, shore bird, I will do you no harm.
I’m just out on my morning beach walk.
She’s leery, though, judging me, sizing me up
By my gender, my clothes, and my talk.
I swear I’m no jerk; I say live and let live.
I won’t dog you or clip your white wings.
But maybe she smells a slight whiff of Mitch stench
Or some trace of Kentucky House kings.
She walks quickly away from me, ready to fly
So afraid that I’ll mess with her fate.
This egret’s no bird-brain; she knows where I’m from.
She can tell it’s a trigger-law state.
Buried biology holds
mysteries of you & me.
A blood wave breaking—
poppies that pour sorrow
from my pores shipping
instance to fingertips
that purge oxygen and return
blue back up the empty vessels
pumping happenstance turning
weather-vanes of mood.
When the storm breaks
we feel the thunder
in our veins.
Today, June 28, 2022 will be one
of the shortest days
in the history of Earth–
not in how we percieve it,
rather, in how it is measured
An Earth day equals one complete
rotation of the planet
In 2020, the record for the shortest
day was broken 28 times and
2022 will see even more
new records
True, the differences are measured
in milliseconds, but they are
very real, and, because of relativity,
one millisecond experienced
from the Andromeda Galaxy
is, for them,
a very long time, for us
greeted by the golden doodles
sharing a table of compliments
the promise of friendship
I’ve been lifting again lately,
heavy weight on the bar,
enjoying the feel of strain,
the blood-pumped bloat of arms.
Down in the grey unfinished basement,
where the cats do their business
I burn incense, nag champa,
Leon Russell on the stereo.
I could cocoon down here,
among the tools of my trade,
tripods, lights stands, f-stops
and artificial ice cubes. It’s cooler, too:
AC pulled by gravity pools.
Breathe in, breathe out.
In, lower the bar; out, push up.
This is where I put in the work,
the ground floor of my life.
There’s no grand purpose in the reps,
no beach body dreams fueling
muscle and tendon,
no goal beyond enjoying this one body
while I still can: up, down, breathe,
over and over again.
Scene 1:
Next to Chilly Billy’s Frozen Yogurt a black bear snuffles
a trash can outside an empty shopping mall.
Out of her nine-inch snout she blows wet
breath, grunts, clacks her jaws & flaps
her bushy head. She’s unfamiliar with these phantom
smells—scent of weeks-old chicken cacciatore caked
on the fake stone facade at Applebees, gummy
residue of root beer at the bottom
of a flattened A & W can.
Scene 2: Close-up
I stare at her bulky waddle for 30 seconds. Wind
rattles shopping mall windows.
Pan to Highway 53: Show thoroughfare with no traffic
& a sign that gives directions to free Covid testing.
Narrator speaks: Did you know bears have the keenest
nose in the mammal world? They can sniff out
a beehive 18-miles away. Today the 500-pound
bear discovers a culinary world beyond yellow
jackets, acorns, buds & shoots.
I name the bear Ursula.
I examine her lumbering moves, take notes.
Scene 3: Narrator continues
Today, Ursula scavenges even for unfoodlike
items – hints of avocado soap beckon. She chugs coconut
shampoo & gulps from a broken bottle of Chanel.
Scene 4:
45 seconds of Ursula sniffing, licking the bottom of a perfume
canister with a sharded rim. Voiceover of a folk singer.
Oh Ursula,
take care. Be cautious
of what we have left behind.
Oh Ursula, take care. Ursula,
take care…
