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Prey

Since I am 

no snake

sloughing skin,

I hide my scars 

in an imagined other.

Not the obvious,

oblivious sheep,

but one more wary,

who waits

along the edge

knowing fear,

knowing

like rabbits:

one step left,

one step right,

without calculation,

equals death;

and any

volition ends

with a quick flutter

of feathers,

and the talon’s

sharp pang

lifting one

toward heaven

like a song.

(October 1, 2019)

Rothko Chapel: a meditation

BD1_9731

 

like stepping into a still pool

deep in a primal cave—

you slip into this silence:

 

the light breathes, a liquid

luminescence, in slow

arrhythmic breaths,

 

and you are changed—

you see what you want

to see; desire, fear, hope

 

flicker across the surface

like faces of the dead,

hesitant and fleeting

 

until you see only your self

stripped of all significance

 

(July 2, 2018)

Minnows

fish-pedicure

 

Metaphor turns all

to itself. I am no more

the subject, than I

am the object. Like Delphic

seers speak god’s voice,

the poem moves through me—

changing itself like air

moving slowly across grass.

 

As a child I’d dangle

my feet in Clark’s creek.

Minnows nibbled my toes

cautiously; I’d sit still

as god listening to prayers

happy in my boredom.

 

(June 6, 2018)