Posts for June 5, 2026 (page 5)

crane, drake
and cane brake make
the dace-lack lake with its deep dark jaw

prey guts girded by sweetest steak
crayfish flesh and clam shell fresh
why osprey claws the spray
possum parts pulled unarrayed
when vulture vaunts the car-tarred ways
pitch pines tent the sky’s blue vault
where herons pick at pike and gar

whether beak breaks
or talon takes
liver, seed, cattail reed and all
give the glutton grackle craw
its prickly pear, its snowshoe hare, its
owl pellet
that mouse’s bony port of call

nightjar, rake
crake, crackling daw
caw caught out of crow’s bright jaw

caracol-spiralled eagle slip
clasp of cloying lover’s grip
now free fall
free fall
free
fall

Coal seams camouflage
open scars along highways
running skyward

Occasionally 
a student 
will ask 
can you 
whistle 
can you 
wink both eyes 
can you 
touch your nose 
with the tip 
of your tongue. 

These are 
high school 
students 
by the way 
interested 
in distraction 
delay, 
stupid human 
tricks to
postpone
the inevitable. 

One day 
this kid 
asked to attend 
his science
teacher’s pet
hamster’s burial. 

I wanted
to ask where  
the graveyard 
for class pets 
was located

but decided 
just to ask 
if it was 
meaningful 
to him and 
he said yes. 

     “I do my finest listening in the dark.
       My best friend has always been ink.”
           Aimee Nezhukumatathil

A stranger’s voice whispers words
I’ve never put together into my ear

and something inside me says yes.
Rhythm, cadence, vocabulary

evoke response. Words I’ve never
put together come together.

My finest listening commits itself
to ink, a tale I never would have told

if I hadn’t heard it echoed
in another poet’s words. 

You crossed the sea, 
unbidden 
to find me on a cold shore
squinting over needle and thread
sucking sore thumb, trying again

You took my work, 
unpicked
every timid stitch I thought fine 
shook your head, spoke an old language
that smelled of bone and wings

You doffed your dress, 
glyphs
skittering epic ballads in the folds of your linen 
showed me a world where women walked unchallenged,
an old goddess’ name new on my tongue

You covered me, 
naked
taught me slowly to prick the patterns
of life and death into the weave of my own garments,
to move pain and joy as twins pushing against a shrinking womb    

I awoke with the ocean in my ear. 

don’t know if it was the line dancing 
or beer, but
seeing everybody downtown when
they shut down the streets 
and we walk
where people park
once a month, beginning
in June
it teaches you that love
is alive
and being alive 

I wave my magic pen
It writes stories of love
It preserves our history
It weaves tales of adventure and fantasy of worlds far far away
The pen’s power is infinite
When ink flows, it can’t be contained
It can create new worlds
Realms
Above the earth in heaven and space
On earth, on land, and in the sea
And even inside it
The ink transcends dimensions
Our imagination fuels its power 

You wake with fear
Don’t be afraid
Shed no tear
I’ve come to your aide

We are here
Thanks to our elders
They came before us
Laid down their lives

Left their trust to us

Time and again
Generations have woven
Their place for us
We stand here today

This, their creation
Now ours to make new
Nurture your plant
Your body, your soul

To grow, to grow!
To learn again and again
To become, to thrive
At the feet of our ancestors

I am ghost skirting walls –
out of sight,
out of reach, but
not out of touch.  

Freedom unforeseen,
to be unseen –
no longer centerpiece nor
side piece nor
piece of meat.  

Now crepe-cloaked,
and silver-crowned,
I am crone –
mystery to the myopic,
revelation to myself.