Wednesday, April 29, 2020

another one about mud

there might be people
still using it   
                     oh, nevermind
the rubber mat
over the doorstep

it's only there to cultivate
the mud
              that has no stench
only color
the color of decayed potential

a steady drain on battery life
the slow decline
                           of bolt and latch
sink of boot and shoe
never to meet what is

window pane

your starling

dressed in black     jumps off the heavy wall

it doesn't bother to open its

wings    surrounded by the buzz of

wasp and termite     Im the only one that watches

her fall

Thursday, April 9, 2020


in 2011 from the foggy shell
      eyes behind cages of tempered glass
glared out through ragged hair

time is a passing thing
                                     life is not

there was nothing left unsaid

I think of you saying goodbye
resting on my lap

chin against chin

I hope you know
I never wanted

                          to go

Monday, April 6, 2020


in real time
I am watching a fence fall

it will take years
now there is less snow
the wind will pick up
the rain will wither

the cords tying it
to a sinking dead limb
grown on sinking dead roots
will not hold

there will be an end
an inevitable upheaval

the gates will flood
and the ivy will pour through
the forest will overtake
the carcass
the stakes will mold

the sky will be blue