Here, again, like now—
say these: I Don’t
Know, and In my Darkness
are recurrent phrases
cast continuously, and
which sit like seeds
waiting to germinate
on the fallow ground
of my mundane life.
(September 28, 2026)
Category: prompt
-
A hawk slips between the trees,
silently like a child’s paper plane.
Here is no truth lassoed tightly
by a smug Wonder Woman.
For what is truth? The mountain
is still a mountain, despite its name.
We see it—imposible to deny—
but we insist words mean more,
tripping over them like shoelaces
as we cower in the short grass, and
listen for air as the hawk descends.
(February 6, 2025)
-
a cardinal flits along a parabola from tree to tree
as if making a hand gesture to emphasize a point
as if what you saw in the clouds
(dogs pursuing nebulous squirrels)
is worth the energy it takes to look up
from reading the day’s news to listen
to the beauty which orbits slowly around
us
and we all just see what we see
because we are that simple
we are that simple
(November 16, 2024)
