Showing posts with label 7. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 7. Show all posts

january fox

snow lapsed silences
depression hefted between our
crunching footsteps
and frosty exhales
trading fleeting currency of
when our spirits levitated

you
great grey owl
celestial migratory visitor
at january wolf moon

me
a triptych of red foxes
shock of dark chins
calling to each other across
the snow-covered lichen
turning tail swiftly to leave


me, lonely in their wake

SUN STEPS INTO SUN


the ducks aren’t shook

blonde crow 

municipally named 

Ferdinand

spotted 

soup on jacket

so many people 

live in cars 

sun steps into sun 

fits like a glove 

these days have been 

enormous water fields

festival grounds where 

sandwiches ---> dirt 

the people charge

someone plays scales

on their clarinet 

ambulance lays into horn 

at iconic intersection

the world 

begins to 

dry