Saturday, August 27, 2022


Some of the friend’s I’ve lost died.
The dead are still with me.
Those who broke my heart stay, too, despite my wants.
Others went missing when I wasn’t paying attention.
Life is a series of unresolved events that prepares us to accept death, an event that prevents resolution.
The friend’s I have with me,
most of them are living. 

Saturday, August 20, 2022

Frog Songs Entered His Dreams

Raised on a farm, he came to a city.
His hands rough, his kindness useless.
The city trained his head to the ground.
His shoulders rolled. His belly grew.
He waded through daily faces 
that at night waded through him.
The streets became rote. He forgot the sky.
Mechanical noise lulled him to sleep.
Frog songs entered his dreams.
Animal sounds filled his dreams.
He knew he was climbing his grandfather’s
barbed cattle fence. The sun had set,
and the pony, Little Bit, stood still.
He reached from the fence over her
back and pulled himself atop her.
He could see all the land that sloped
to the pond and rose again in the back
pasture, and the neighboring tree line
darkened under the dimming sky.
Little Bit was silent. He reached for her mane.
She bolted and he was thrown. He slid a distance 
in mud and shit, but was okay.