incomplete snack
unearth roots
New vine,
bright green,
curled end,
small leaf buds?
Or old, dead vine,
light yellow,
dried and bent,
torn leaf remains?
I can’t tell from here.
is the urgent need to vomit
and the speech you utter
is riddled with breaks
in waves of worry
as your brain tries to process
the fact that you
and several thousand coaches, parents, and teenagers
have just evacuated this competition meeting hall
in a panic
created by an unknown agititator on stage.
And then
you start to notice
that some of the people around you
have lost one
or both of their shoes
in this scramble to escape
what turned out to be nothing
but could have been
the end of everything.
Des Moines.
19 June 2025.
Sometimes when we take a good look into the past
and we see injustice and prejudice that ran rampant
It makes me so very sad, yet what is even more sad
is that it exists still today, not only in the same form
from the past, but even more groups of people are
the victims of racism, predjudice, and injustice
We, as a society, need to DO BETTER
As I sat to write,
two spike bucks,
possibly twins this spring,
came out of the woods
to eat apple peelings
I tossed out.
——-
Their spikes were covered
with velvet.
They displayed wild looks
toward the house.
Finally, they ate and turned away.
——
They saw themselves in two old,
discarded mirrors,
and then they bolted
into the woods,
fleeing their own images.
I’ve tried to make my words
flowery and kind,
while my heart remains made of
stone and anger.
I fight tooth and nail
to cling to any hope I have
for humanity’s ultimate triumph
on the other side of
an inevitable collapse.
Why aren’t you listening?
Why aren’t you listening?
Why aren’t you fucking listening?
Death has risen in the sky
like a moon, cold & sharp,
slicing my sleep, daring me
to close my eyes, lest visions
of those I’ve lost burn my
brain to nothingness.
So I think I’ll fly—no, swim,
since that night orb has its own
gravity—swim with mermaid
tail through passionflower
with its wavy filament & spoke-
centered pansy & poppy cauldron,
where all manner of stem & leaf
tickle my skin.
And when I break surface & lean
on lily tongues & catch my breath
between hibiscus sails & tickseed
pinwheels, I may consider seeking
shade under coneflower parasols,
but my scales will flash, sun
bearers, nimbly-spangling green
ground where blade-
waves swell, crest, ebb,
rhythmic cradles for a woman
who has given up her legs
& only wishes to be
reef-rocked, where anemone
curls & unfurls & blanket
octopi cover her with their
maroon streamers.
Hummingbird heart rate,
I burn loops through the house.
I swear nothing changes.
Not the time, not the sour
blood in my mouth. Willing
heavy sleep to set in stillness,
rid myself of all consequence.
Remembering long ago summertime nights
before TV, computers, today’s cell phone noise.
Fireflies, campfires, bright star constellations
marshmellows and hot dogs roasting
fireworks displays, moonlight mystique
planet sightings, camp song singing
ghost story telling.
So much fun to enjoy
on the dark side of sun.
