Walden, 2018
. . . the asphalt parking
lot, our summer high
thick heat, and children
with towels, flip-flops,
popsicle Rockets,
red white and blue ice . . .
. . . how deep the hole
our country did fall
into while we slept
and how the dream
brought us locusts,
their whine the sound
of a someone strapped
to the table, cut open,
for the hoses and salt . . .
. . . impossible to say
where we stand now
on a path that circles
what HDT said was
the eye of God but
now feels like a corner
where a sparrow has
fallen from its nest
and looks up at us,
bewildered as we are. . .
. . . down in the mud,
leafy pools, shallows,
deep within alluvial
history, our truths
unfolding beneath us,
so he wanted to find
out if there was after
all some granite there,
something we believed in,
that held us together . . .
. . . He must have known
it was always tentative
ready to fall apart,
that we each would
have to believe enough
to build it over again
and that this is what
these stones are here for. . .
in Pangyrus V , Winter 2018