Gum stuck to worn concrete Tennis shoes on sweaty feet Pigeon poop glued to the street Food trucks hawking mystery meat A hood a suit a scarf a pleat Averted eyes, a haze of sleet Sirens wail and trolleys bleat A public bus, a taxi fleet Window panes entrapping heat A city you cannot complete A city you cannot defeat Who dares to say it -- Say hello
Month: August 2018
crickets
The sweetest sound is insects singing No other hymn hums so continued Young crickets chatter, wings a-flinging No breath, free chitin, all unsinewed Rhythms, clicks, anticipations Legs create the shell vibrations Body singers thrum the night From every angle, out of sight
I will not eat my time tree
does it make you angry that the mirror’s in the present does it make you hungry like a spatially laden pheasant? I see cardinal directions but only for this second In only three dimensions as my dark brain reckoned I smash the mirror with my fist The shards of silver bleed I smash the wristwatch with a hammer Then plant it with a seed I watch the tree grow stronger Its roots dig in my belly I feed the time-tree daily As my bones turn to jelly The fruits are yellow, thick-skinned They grow too far to reach My head is buried in the dirt The tree’s become a leech I will not eat my time-fruits I will not taste their juice Instead I lay here in the dirt and let my spirit loose
I am nature’s daughter
I walk by a pool of water the sun filtering yellow through the water skippers dancing the sky a heated blue. The algae air clings clothing the sweat runs down my chest I walk by a pool of water but I cannot find rest. I cannot see my iris in the glassy surface edge I cannot see my face or hair or the beads hung on the hedge I do not know my reason I do not know the birds that sing on heavy branches I do not know their words. All humans are so tiny such an interlocking mesh how many hands it took to build how many pounds of flesh No one walks beside me No one across the lake No one across the ocean Am I here by mistake? The grass is filled with tick shells the mud smells like a sewer I cannot see my reflection Or the clouds upon my skewer I sit on a rotting tree stump And stare out at the water A mosquito welts my arm skin I am truly nature’s daughter.
balladrael 