I. Robed in soft blush the peaches for the wedding are ripe and I will take them when I leave for the seaside perfumedwith tender fleshand a heartof stone. II. Often paintedwith a stemand leaf the tongue by whichwe speak our heartsthese fruitsshared the sunequally somust not bekindreda tree producesunevenlyat best. III. Withclingstonessome cultivarsare made to be difficult and it’s no secret thatwork can be pleasurebut pleasurecannot be worked at. IV. Perseverancein time the skin […]
The fires flowed together here: blown down dry canyons, antithesis of waterbut moving not unlike it—the confluence in conflagration. With devastationsometimes it’s hard to findthe right word, to capture capricious natures,fire casting a permanent shadowwith such arbitrary borders— remaining pines, firs, and hemlockall shocked prematurely orange—guilt of the survivor. Consumed by the Chiwaukumthis land can speakfor itself, litter and understory erased, branches incinerated to generate space,trunks turned ink-black, the blank slate hillside stands still and staid and states: I […]
No breeze. Stark heat. The ground still drying, leaching a mineral scent. It’s amazing how much noise one quail can make and there are at least thirty in the elderberry tree. Ninety-three in the shade— I said I’d get some work done but the watermelon I cut is already warm. Not even the wasps can muster up interest— slow in flight, dragging their legs behind them.
We had a gully washer. Dried silt spilt out, Rorschach on the driveway. It’s the way things go I try to tell the finch who is giving me side-eye. Why we lay foundations and not eggs is beyond her– I make a play on laying an egg but it’s over her head and then she’s over mine, my concerns about structural integrity being far beneath her. That said, I’ve seen a lot more rabbits out in the open darting […]
On 97 ALT eastbound just out of Entiat a lone tumbleweed sat,backlit, nearly transparent,a forgotten thought. It’s fire season all the signs say, here it’s burned down to the road,scorched rocks and harlequin trees,half escaped, half engulfed. Every night now I’m dreamingand every dream now I’m explaining or trying and trying and waking with relief. Name the cry. What does this need need? Distance? Space? Heat? A water-skier shapes a snakeon the hyaline Columbia.Cautiously, I pass […]
Note the groupings: Forest.Downpour. Chorus. The bird have changed their voicings, the cooler morninghas its music, too— percussive drizzling on a full canopy of leaves, no melodysoaring over the green equanimity.A mist floats in, suspendedacross the upright bars of trunks,the evergreen chords. Remember whenthe tree fell? a few sharp cracks and then the loudsoftness of it comingto rest. A pollen sporedescends from its frond,a fractal lichen forks again,but lento— slow downor you’ll miss it.
Some parted the water cleanly from the greatest height, some from lower, some less cleanly, bodies reaching terminal velocity, in three seconds halfway, in eight seconds, entry into the deepest pool, gulped up by sapphire, time moving a bit less predictably, (or perceptions flowing relative to impact,) seen in phase changes at the airport drop-off, this area is for loading and unloading […]
It’s Guynes Street, still. The house has the same flat bricks as my grandparent’s place, painted filigree iron to hold up the carport, honeysuckle bushes, and no front door. Inside, they’ve keptthe old decor: spinet piano, doilies on the couch, china in the sideboard. It’s all too fragile, knowing what I know: the curtains too […]
The first barrier is waiting. Or is it wanting? Every night is a river runningand I am a shadow, a dry-sider trapped on the surfaceof everything. It’s not for momentumI pull the blade; a current pulls along in any state,even without me the boat will float,even in pieces, even beyond. The banks unseenbut sensed as with sleek mammalsthat slink under the water with back currents,eddies, […]
The sky uneasy after thunderlast night, having gone to bed angry, and the mapleleaves barely waver in the barely breeze.I dreamed of someone I barely knew, but family–having never really had a chance to talk, I threw him a party, made him a cake, still, the end was fixed in place. These leaves are summer-fat,big as diner plates, obscuring the view. An outburst of rainwould be a relief about now. Dreaming, I argued about […]
OPTIONAL POETRY 