Threat
Great
blue
heron
glides over
glassy lake surface.
All stillness fractured for the fish.
She wasn’t there the night
the mother died
instead the brother
called at 1 am.
She’s gone, he said.
The sister had been there all day
watching her chest heave,
each breath a rage
against some hope
a dying body doesn’t want
She described her as
complicated
a word the other brother
refused to accept
Can’t you just say
you loved her?
Can’t you just say that?
She held the hand of the mother
yellow and sallow
who held hers, once
red and strong enough
to knock the sass
out of a mouth
She walked out into her backyard,
the restless sky crammed with stars
waiting for something to break, knowing
the mother would always be
somewhere listening for her name.
Summoned in the night
no burlap hood needed
Percival’s armor assembled
between red sigils on the ceiling
calciphospho
oxycarbo
hydronitro
dontaskanymore
vasodilation for predation
to conquer earth, sky, and sea
combat over creation
to destroy what once was me
Gareth spars to excess
no exceptions to testing mettle
and if Daed can be tamed
after annihilating a priori
In the field of battle
best practice necessitates speed
and without the war of mind
a tactless dance supercedes
if I was a phone battery
I’d be at 75%
I never thought I’d compare myself to an electrictronic
but a lot has changed since ’98
You see my charge is forever dwindling
and like most phones, I truly could just go
at anytime my body could shut off
I could get shattered
dropped
thrown against a wall
thr only difference is
when I die you won’t be able to go to your local dealership
a newer model is never coming
The long long goodbye
right before my eyes
we cross paths
she leans into the passenger side window
her face sad raw red rough why
why can’t I get there?
physically or mentally?
why can’t I make the decision?
is there anyone you can talk to?
God
it’s so hard
it’s so hard.
Saturday Morning
The sun is up, but the moon still shines
And we’re already fighting in the streets
Over who owes who
Ten dollars.
“I need that money NOW.”
Judges wearing people suits pile in.
Glazy wrinkled donuts, lukewarm coffee.
No outlets for the laptops everyone brings.
Dewey-eyed faces impressed with law,
more impressed with how it feels behind the bench.
Old whores strolling from rig to rig
at the truck stop of government agencies.
A good lot, all in all,
more likely to do good than some politicians,
a lot more likely to look for truth and apply it.
The agenda aches, the power points lack power,
the password for the Internet is ESCAPE.
I don’t mind. I have another donut.
They may not learn me how to strike the gavel
square, or see the heart inside the matter,
or would Solomon really cut the baby in half
but I’ll be humbled by what’s truly important:
there’s no such thing as “small claims” court.
The heat of summer has mellowed
The spider moves lithely along her web
The edges of leaves have yellowed
Bushes have birthed berries, round and red
The sun, an open mouth of cider-warm glow
Spreads out to hold off the chill of night
In the valley we hear the buck’s bellow
And a flock of geese takes flight
It is twilight, September
A time to quietly prepare
A leaf, tinged red, gently falls
A tiny twig hangs bare
