It’s a little early for fireflies
yet I sit on the unmowed grass of my backyard
anxious for them, knowing their numbers
are dwindling

I remember childhood summer evenings with a soft glow
lifting my arms in embrace, trying to catch one 
in my palm, watching the flicker of light on my finger,
awe that these creatures produce magic

I am like a ship in the night;
I am seeking a lighthouse to guide me
and watch as the last bulb
burns out

Should I bring a child into a world
that has lost its light?

Of course I do. A December day

some sixty years ago. I loved you,

though I never found the words.

We walked home from school

together, hand in gloved hand,

fresh snow in your dark hair.

I never found those words, either,

but I haven’t forgotten you once.

Why can’t I recall your name now?

(after an undated, untitled photograph in the project, “Demo Roll,” by Matthew Moore)

III.

Sirius sparkles at 4 a.m.
  A bouquet of warblers
    trill hello, their dark      
      against dark until,

with time, wide stripes  
  of pink and blue appear—    
    thin clouds amid tree       
      lines tinged pink.

Sirius, of an older wisdom  
  than we, shines behind, and    
    I ground myself in Earth’s      
      consciousness. Her

ancient wisdom speaks,  
  Be still, listen, and,    
    if only for this moment,      
      I know all I need to know.

I can’t go too far, or far too long or
I’ll dry up and they’ll find me all
wrung out on a steel rack
just waiting for words, choking out old air

No matter how much
the roar of the steam engine calls
how many muscles I strain trying to chase it
back, back, and back again

There is a spring I came from
that soothes suppleness to scabs
brings the flush back to my cheeks
I can feel steaming water pulsing out
beneath my feet but never glimpse the bottom

It laughs knowingly with every return
of its soft, beautiful stone worn rough

my eyes
letting them sleep
exhaling a sigh
as lights turn lower
shutting the door
pulling blankets over
lying all the way down

use Explain 
Everything
        (pass along
        fire from gods)

no restart!–
standby OK
        (no sleep chained
        to a mountain)

move Legacy to last page–
deletion scheduled
        (liver eaten by eagle–
        soul excised)

(altered shadorma/found poem from training notes)

I call him Fred.

I greet him now this way,
“Well, hiiiiii there Fred!“
My daughter rolls her eyes…

When Fred made his
first surprising reveal,
jerky movements
and impossibly quick,

I, of course, screamed
closed the mailbox swiftly
Apologized…
When I thought I’d crushed him

I looked around
Wondering who saw my
interaction…
With the mini mail troll

Then… reopen
To gather sealed up stress
Dramatically,
I keep my body back

Just far enough…
From my fuzzy new friend
Who now just stares…
Shew, I didn’t crush him!

At least not yet…
For now he still greets me,
with a knowing,
a mutual respect.

And in spite of
the ongoing eyerolls,
I spied “mail talk,”
And I heard her say, “Fred!”