2022-12-13

the snake

my father stomped &
ground the copper-
head’s head beneath
his heel & flicked his
cigarette into the creek–
I fought a bass with
knotted line & reel
until my fingers bled;
the hook embedded
deep within its throat
to where I had to reach
through trembling gills
to pluck & retrieve the
plastic bait & all the while
my father’s heel pushed
bone & flesh to oozy slush
while the snake writhed &
limped toward death

I was ten or maybe
twelve & impressed
by how casual it was
to grind a life to dust
& light another smoke
& watch a son catch his
first fish all on his own
& walk away from what
he’d done without a
glimpse back or doubt
about the rightness
of it all; the snake
was just a snaky thing
doing what it must;
my father & I broke
its trust of creeks
& frogs & easy
meals before
its head was crushed

& still I think about
the fish, the creek,
my father on that day
so young & self-assured
& unaware of years to
come, the jobs to lose,
what the bottles held
how his children fled
& wives both left–
what I remember is
the sun, his cheeks,
the cigarettes, his grin
as the snake turned
silent in the heat

2022-12-12

goose politics

wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk
wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk wonk

2022-12-11

how to appreciate poetry

It helps if your heart’s been broken at least three times. Get plowed over by dumb luck. Get drunk on moonlight. Or sunlight. Or gin. Watch a child try. And fail. Teach a house to suffer. Show an owl how to tie its shoes. Invent a language only you and your dog understand. Sharpen a thousand pencils; use the shavings to make new pencils. Hold the poem’s page to your ear & listen. The words are no more silent than the lungs of the dead.