shine Out the clearer
in time of threatening despair
there it stands
this evening primrose
yellow blossoms a greeting
opening at dusk
reminding us forever
evolution breeds brightness
even for our dark
in time of threatening despair
there it stands
this evening primrose
yellow blossoms a greeting
opening at dusk
reminding us forever
evolution breeds brightness
even for our dark
The parasite knows how to hide in plain view-
between toes, between tax codes,
middle of the Mid-Atlantic back you forgot to check.
Little wounds behind kneecaps, unnoticed.
Great entertainment, they said
TV show spray tan, a few shady deals,
some plane rides to that private island with little girls who ‘like’ it.
They said, Rules are for suckers, I take what I want.
They all laughed at the comic vampire of Wall Street,
offered bare throats to his pudgy hands, puckered lips
grabbing, swelling, sucking ruby life from undefended veins.
He’ll make us great again.
Once the rash appeared, it was already too late.
They thought the fever was a sign from heaven,
boasted that their bullseye of rancid infection radiating inward from limbs to core was a
mark of blessing. A miraculous pox!
In devolutionary marvel they hail him- Beneficent! Godly! Golden!
Now bleeding themselves as tribute to a conquering king they conjured.
Welcoming in the ravenous kindred cohort- flea, leech, mite, worm-
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
In his throne room the tick feasts undisturbed
bloating and gloating, arteries clogging
pushing today’s coagulations around his big-boy plate.
Gaping orange sinkhole belches, bored again ‘til the next fresh bite.
Iron supplements for anemia- on sale now!
Yeah I liked Dakota Johnson in, oh what’s it called,
lemme check IMBD
Okay hmm okay I see
so I’ve actually never seen a Dakota Johnson movie besides The Social Network but I don’t really remember her performance
I’m sure she’s great, I’ve heard good things
I’m not, like, against her or anything
just didn’t happen to catch Madame Web
The sky pours recklessly, whipping
fractured black locust branches
through gray haze, unleashing thunder
so close it cracks beneath my ribs.
Empty suet cages rip from the limbs
of our crepe myrtle, swept away
into some storm drain oblivion.
House sparrows gather, scatter, puff
their rain-freckled bodies as mist
rises hot from the church parking lot.
Lightning veins down everywhere,
June streamers. White electric lines
from heaven. Everyone gathers
in the suburbs to survey the damage.
When you’re driving down the interstate and it’s pouring
You pass under a bridge for a few seconds
Absolute silence engulfs the car
For a few seconds everything is still
Everything is peaceful
When you’ve just parked your car
And you’re walking alone down a sidewalk
Headed to meet your friends
Phone in your pocket so you’re focused
The only sound is the breeze in the trees
This is the peace I crave
That smoky, sly look,
the one that promised
a cleanup afterwards.
You baited me with a look,
broke me with a look.
I was barely in your orbit
and yet you pulled me close
and told me without words
what I needed to hear:
I am worthy of attention.
In Temple Terrace
the electricity is off
so I must make this quick
before my lap-
top losses power
My power over my own life
is diminishing to a point
I find easy to handle
Living in Dr. Hue’s condo
while he lectures in Taiwan
is a godsend
He breaks all the rule’s
of the Homeower’s Ass.
…has a vegetable garden
& a clothes line in the sideyard
This evening I see
sunset over Alligator Lake,
take my shirts off
the line and listen
to the tomatoes
sing Let It Be
Tonight the dark will be Dark
One day
I will
climb
to the tippity, toppity, resting place
of the tallest oak I can find
I will dangle
my feet over
a sturdy-enough branch,
squeezing my eyes tightly shut
as the wind
from a much-needed incoming storm
blows.
I will talk to the dry Earth from up above,
encouraging it to open its heartbeat
and share with me
the secrets that stay hidden beneath
the rocks
the roots
the ribbons of debris
left from flooding after a wicked snow.
I will listen until my hips settle
into an unhealthy angle.
Then, I will climb down
to write the story
of the loneliest acorn that never did
fall.
I think this
whenever I am
alone
on the ground
in the woods.
After Natasha Tretheway’s “Rotation”
My father was both moon and sun to me—
a conqueror returning each evening, often with a treat.
He played cards with me, letting me win, I’m sure.
With wonder, I looked up at him, filled with light.
Sitting beside me, he taught me Casino
and how to play Patience like in Vegas, but for pennies.
When I looked up at him I saw his face
and then his hands, fingers confident on the cards.
When he stood in the doorway of my room
I trusted him, I knew he’d keep his promises.
He came in, light-footed, happy to see his darling daughter.
I don’t remember when he turned to go.
In the dark, in my room down the hall, I knew he watched
and would protect me. I couldn’t see a time
that he would not be there, a time he’d turn away
like a moon setting, a sun behind clouds.
