Some poems speak of love others hate. If you’re like me you like poems about trees. Trees are lovely and cool because they make shade which is nice to sit in with a mint tea in summer. A tree will grow hot turn crisp and line into stone menhir not even booklice will like. ThisContinue reading “Trees”
Mr. Groen maintained a modest but pleasant yard.Saturdays in season he cut the grass with a pushmower, pruned roses, fertilized, spread compost.Martha Groen watered the beds full of crimsongeraniums, purple peonies, tulips, daisies, and such that fancied her seasonal gardening moods. But back to back dry nasty winters followed by suns so hot the weathermanContinue reading “A Cutting Edge Paradox”
I was walking in Mt Tabor Park the other day, on a path rarely taken, steep on the south side, affording views of the college campus, its low buildings in the shade of the giant trees, the wide swath of grass between Gray and the cafe green but empty. I paused to reflect, praying peace,Continue reading “Survival Manual”
In backyard rock lined pit dug underground for roasting of pig. This yr pig day a hot one. The pig on a spit put into the pit by two strongest men, kneeling over the mouth, where a wood fire burning overnight has heated the rocks molten. The prepared pig at rest in the hot rocks,Continue reading “Pig Roast”
a simple moon once worth two bits now a bucket of silver dollars won’t buy a room with a hotplate view of the polluted lake. when all universe was still local we slept in the sky now moving stairs carry off the awful. the moon we have lights a dark gold daylily closed the mopeContinue reading “Inflation”
All around us, the plants whisper in dry brittle voices, “water us, water us.” Sotto voce, there is no water, and what falls is not wet or gentle, but drops of chthonic fireworks, urban, rural, coastal infernos. The plants dig and pray to Hades, and cooler there than here in this air.
Day One: A trance of rain, ear churn momute. Day Two: Slide high noontide, sundersthorms plate. Day Three: Moistly scattered sneers and a few frizzles. Day Four: Chants of wrinkles, dartly cloudy and chowdery. Day Five: Humility Poor Boy Talls, Barometer IPA 75%. Day Six: Moggy, very low viability. Day Seven: Topical air mass pewContinue reading “Weather Retort”