Bear Meadows Bog

6-23-08
Mountain laurel in bloom and the bog!
Near State College, PA

Rib Fish

Some people get punched
knuckle slap, bonecrack
richochets form bloodlakes
behind organs

A viscous waterfall, red,
makes eddies at its landing
I wait for fish to wiggle out
from underneath

A dazzling one would be nice
yellow, yes, and wandering
the kind that feeds, oblivious,
on painweed

The yellow happy rib fish
leaving joy wakes
pinballing the edges
of heartbeat

(5-21-08)

St. Ambrose

St. Ambrose

crawl into my mouth
sting my tongue
this is the origin of language
this is the origin of desire
this is original
before the apple was the flower
before the flower was the bee
taste this
land here
swell here
leave here
honey

(5-15-08)

Streams

They come and hold out their fingers
nearly begging for sting
they bathe and drink
feel fluttered and purified, chosen
Meanwhile there are no special acts
the bees simply wake with dew
with uncelebrated purpose
to collect and deposit,
to protect and churn
These transformations so inscrutable
while we develop theorems for resurrection
try to explain the thick golden initiations
inside our peculiar biochemistries,
and theirs

But yes
here are my fingers
Who does not want the pouring over?
the lively murmuring?
the puncture of possibility?
Who does not want streams meandering
heartside?

(5-17-08)

Colony Collapse

let x equal e
doubled and long, extending
lightless swarms heaped
wide pools of limp wings
this skyline of loss
how bloomless
how hoverless
how goldless
barely a tickle of breeze
through the fallen flowers
and silence

bitter bitter silence

(5-17-09)