shrieking summer sounds 
bottle rocket wars 
no casualties 

A few Saturdays ago,

Before the summer storms began, my

Candle was starting to tunnel.

Did you know in the

Event that happens, you can use aluminum

Foil to

Grow the warmth and

Heat the exterior as much as the

Interior.

Just in case you were curious, nature’s

Kick in Salt Marsh Rose by D.S. & Durga

Levitates you to the

Middle of everywhere, all at once. The

Notes read

Of

Pepper (sweet, to be exact),

Quiet creeping bent,

Rose (swamp, to be precise), and

Sea Lettuce, reminiscent of

Thickets,

Undisguised in the Cape.

Very remarkable, I think, for the

Wick to perform for the

Xenial host. If it keeps up, next Saturday

You’ll be left with

Zilch.

I thought I was
in the clique
and then I wasn’t 
they each took a turn
and then they didn’t
I was flattered
and then I wasn’t
I figured it out
then they figured out
I figured it out
It was nice while it lasted
then it wasn’t
that’s the problem
with cliques
you get left out

Sweat can’t find enough pores
To escape my skin.
Hands in the mouth of Hell,
Retrieving bones from the flesh the flame took.
Dark red tanned forearms,
Pulsating from overuse.
Just three more.

But then,

I saw her.

Lunging, wheezing figure,
White sheet with faded brown blood stain.
She, in pain, afraid.

I close my eyes,
Pausing my attempt to clean the hearth.
I speak aloud,

“I am so sorry.
I am so sorry.
I am just one man.
I’m doing what I can
To do right by you all.
I feel your pain, too.
The burdens I carry can hurt.
Please, forgive me if I’ve crossed you.”

Gone.

Standing in the dissonance
Of a cooling machine
And another decedent.

–

Be kind to the dead.

i don’t remember the last time i’ve been outside like that.
he took me to the four wheelers,
through the paths worn by time,
then he let me lead,
until i tired him out
and he said i should go on my own,
just come in if it starts to rain.
he’s gotten older since i was here last,
softer.
i haven’t breathed in fresh air like that
since i can’t remember when.
i felt like i could finally think.
the humidity kept the grass tall and green,
though the trees were bare
and the sky got dark,
but the wind was my friend,
and no matter where i turned,
i always ended up back home.
he told me i could come back anytime,
to keep the paths cleared,
he said.
i told him,
maybe i will.

maybe i will.

the last thirty days 
blessed me with poetic bliss
why would I stop now

Pond darting dragonflies
deck sunning turtles
soft trickling water.

An afternoon’s rapture
escapeful delight.

Today is my daughter’s birthday party. 

Mountain me
that I can’t move.
The same mountain
I’ve been exploring for 28 years,
climbing, falling, and surviving. 
I’ve seen sights to behold
But when will I know that I’ve reached the top of it all? 

My gentle grown son,
I see the age in your eyes, 
your soft weariness.

I walk beside you-
my season is darkening,
my heart is the same.

I can’t lift you up- 
engage in life on your terms, 
you must not look back. 

Keep moving along-
the path we made together
can form a new branch.

Children can follow
tramping down the overgrowth, 
making their own way.