Hard Shells
I hunt
for Easter eggs
in the woods
the briars
the straws
the webs
round white shells
dimpled in the sun
pick up each one
within reach
the brimming basket
now light
I carry it
across the lawn
and dump the eggs out
and one by one
I chip ‘em
back into the woods
the briars
the straws
the webs
TL
Dusk
it matters not
the day
if I remember it
or not
it matters not
the day
if I found it
or not
it matters not
the day
if I kept it
or not
it matters not
the day
the break of it
the dusk
folded flat and put away
stuffed or starved
held or withheld
standing in the rain
or cold in the grave
I sat in the sand
and waited
way too long
the sky a tearless blue
in summer
changes its color
in the winter
a different shade
in the fall
and returns itself
in the spring
a buried bulb
left in the ground
grows
each year
dimmer
through the lens
of an eye
but more brilliant
than the day
I remembered it
I found it
I kept it
when it mattered
not
the break of it
the dusk
TL
Long Lens
in a parking lot
on a side of town
plated up
the sun low and lazy
the liquid movement of the morning
rises
and drips a drop
into my cup
and I stir it round
gentle against the lip
the clouds pinned to a line
where the birds sit and sing
beaded there like rain
a diamond necklace
unfastened
nothing matches
and I feel like I haven’t slept in years
I just doze in and out
with my eyes closed
snapshots in a dark room
the bending of light
a prism
brushed against the wall
in different shades
tones
and hues
TL
The Way of the Wind
miles away
a string of lights
stretch the blacktop
blinking
on and off
like lights on a lake
I watch the flow
wondering where do all the people go
where have they been
what have they went through
what do they want
what do they need
did they find it
after all …
the wandering
or did they let it pass them by
thinking they’d get another chance
but chances are
a bit like a sail
boat
and I’ve seen ‘em go
by
sat in the burning sand
squinting
but the high wind
never does bring ‘em back
around
this way again
TL
Barefoot
you can bury
the day
burn the map
empty all your pockets
inside out
put on a different coat
hat
and cut your hair
to there
then grow it back
put on pounds
and take ‘em off
run around
hit the brake
sit way down
cut the light
the switch
open a door
shut it
slam it
behind
shop around
try on every shoe
sole
and wear ‘em out
across the street
up the bank
down the trail
through the gate
around the corner
the circle
past the trees
the brush
the crows are cawing
a shadow forms
fills
and falls
like hot tears
against a cold cheek
heavy-laden
into a box
a black box
nobody opens
the perfect petals
each stem
strand
turned to ash
the wind scatters
like a hand-full of stars
on a frozen night
beyond touch
or reason
or wishes
and it’s too bad
they don’t make a pair
for that
for that long
long walk home
TL
Fetch
he waited
for the ball
to be thrown
into the water
soon as it hit
the surface
he’d jump in
after it
leaving behind a wake
nothing mattered but the ball
he would swim to his death
to hear, “good boy!”
the ball wedged in his mouth
he’d die happy
TL