swamp summer hip-high
in minnow mud &
frog scum, sky
an open tear
crowded by shrub-top
& tree-crown & convent
thoughts caught on tongue
in birdsong & chirrup
& things left unsaid
in untwinings & what
did you expect?

sometimes
all you can
do is eat the
damned potato

party’s end
the last goodbye
echoes firefly air

lawn mowing shoes
green into summer—
shirtless sweat sheen

hum a little ditty:
ladybugs flower flit
ripped screen flaps

july moon bending
slides between sheets
a sonata compressed

half of what is
owed is less than
freedom’s promise:
the debt long over-
due, the agency’s
men at the door
& they are here
to stay; get used
to it—we dragged
them here by
our own undoing
& now it is time
to pay what we
have avoided,
squirmed out of,
broken promises
of check in the mail
& fair elections
left on the table
uncollected &
don’t forget almost
three hundred years
of interest.

rain again &
all night the
frog chorus
isn’t sure
whether to
sing mezzo
piano or
mezzo forte
& settles on
fortissimo
so I hope
the heron
has a good
breakfast

rain delay:
green fields blossom
cleat marks