Angst in the wind, listen to
whippoorwills in apple trees,
trepidation rushes into shadow.
A naturalist on the red clover patch;
today I heard a mangled forest sigh.
Jackhammers top off concrete
on a New York City sidewalk;
tarmacs turn slick after rainy nights.
Yosemite Park with hot spitting geysers
blasting a groundswell of phosphate,
enlightening caustic intentions of the sun.
Black eyes shiny as onyx
(two dark holes in a cranium)
swimming in glass – a tragic chalice.
A sawed-off shotgun in his bedroom,
life’s beauty starves, looking for an escape;
an inside-out itchy sweater,
unfolded, crumples in a dresser drawer.
Milky spindrift wakes me in the morning;
a strain on the day’s visibility,
I veil behind eyes closed eternally.