{panorama}

WIND
FIRE
FLOODING

{closeup}

WEEDS
BUGS
ROT

{panorama}

ROT
BUGS
WEEDS

{closeup}

FLOODING
FIRE
WIND

whoever’s
left holding the bag again
playing the Lone Ranger

admittedly holding on
more than reaching out
for some helper
other than Tonto

maybe this is too much
about the mask or headband
whomever’s

a lively cabbage

moth

in its merry shroud

warm odor of a log cabin

somewhere back in my childhood

fix this, fix that

while wondering how things might have been different

 

crack in the dawn

doorways in seeds

perchance a season of great harvest

basket makers as a subset of weavers

all with more peaceful wisdom

or patience than I own

the bearded priesthood of poets

mostly dead, white, male

even with the redundancies

I’ll take two out of three

oh joy, another bluebook
just like college
right in the hope
of catching up
on the other side
of some strangely
gradated stranger