I followed the green tendril
leisurely along the trunk,
wondering how anything
can be so beautiful
in such a horrible world.
The rocks listened
as my eyes and hands
felt my way.
Tumbleweeds
Always on the porch
looking out but staying in,
not surprised by metal men
with gentle lights firmly pressing
by my shrubs and flowers.
I do like when wind brushes my hair
along my face as if someone notices
I’m standing obediently.
Dust gets kicked around
like my heart
and grasshoppers cavort in ways
I imagine I would if had days to live.
My bread is almost ready
but I want to see where men will go next,
as if any place is different
when there is a hole in the middle of us.
The sound is just a rumble,
though it might be my blood in my ears
rushing and pounding like a waterfall
or maybe a bird taking flight.
My name is on the leaf
fluttering to the ground
with a trick of light
to mark the syllables.
It doesn’t matter
what tree I’m from;
I’ll find rest where I’m meant,
shuffled by wind.
Allentown
The city was a Tiffany blue
faux leather jewelry box
with a dozen compartments
filled with faux ballerinas and pearls
and a little mirror to check earlobes.
She kept the city in her closet
to visit whenever she was feeling
cosmopolitan.
The sidewalk hummed a tune from 1954
(when eyeglasses and bras
pointed the way to quick ruin).
Decades rumbled from beneath
layers of paved crosswalks
-like Poe’s telltale highway,
but the road craved a Greyhound,
not retribution.
A porter longed to punch a ticket
– but there was no train.
A woman was too busy
to notice rain on a scurrying rat’s tail.
The case would be shut yet unlocked
as she imagined people inside
running in circles but slowly,
like licking away at a lollipop.
Soaring
A quiet afternoon,
sun streaming
sideways through dark
curtains, leaves
rustling, faded nearby.
Capturing light
and moving it along
in the shape of
skin and latitude,
it’s a simple “touch me”
written in code
on moth’s wings.
Before and after,
a plaintive call
to find a place inside someone
to hold and be held.
The birds don’t question heights
or currents when they fly.
Bravado is letting go;
we are both dark
and heavy on our own.
