Thursday, July 14, 2016

July 3, 2016

ecotonal innards

flattened squirrels

it's not that hot but
everyone says it is

minnesota, good city

all kind of withdrawal
sigh your little sigh

what else, but without end, to feel--
you might as well stop

the bad world, the one we live in:
no one sees it as such. sigh your
little sigh. the neighborhood blasts

how could they not be? how could they be anything other than
the blasts this week in Dhaka, Istanbul, Baghdad

coming home to roost?

living at the poles, it's possible to feel
you've no part in them, in any of it, except all of it

if you take words in your mouth, they'll likely come back up again
as ether

thistle troves rarefied--

anyone who lives after
may also mistake the airs

of this midsummer flowering
(sentient nostalgia, what else?)

for the descent of cluster flies