The unstable elements
you heat,
the hate
you forge,
the alloys
you armor in—
your work
begins already
to decay—
a nuclear tendency
to degenerate
the legacy
you leave us
all exposed.
Monthly Archives: February 2017
Only the Roots of Weeds
Abandoned machinery
and memory
mark this stretch
of beach cliff
unsafe. Hillsides
wave still
with mustard plants,
yellow-yellow-green.
No young
mustard leaves
for us
for thirty years
at least.
Refinery employees
for decades
watched migrating whales
from this same spot,
let hydrocarbons leach
into the paths we walk.
Only the roots of weeds now
make amends.
Grass Castle
This story a nest
from plants
you know—I steal
my material—
anything really
easy enough
to hold
in flight—
soft bark,
twigs, Spanish moss,
palm thread,
spider web, sometimes
even spider eggs—
I like light work,
a loose weave—
Why not?
Rain runs through
and still I keep
these handfuls
of hope
warm, sheltered here
somewhere midair.