until you have madeit with your own two hands Silly Puddy in your palms the way God once held us
George Cassidy Payne
Process
Do not process this experience. Just have it. It is not about anything. Not about leaving. Not about having fun. Not about you or anyone. It’s not about needing to participate.
Florida Bound
Chasing them Across an emptyField, honking allThe way, he ranFaster than I did It’s finally late October And I feel left behind.
A Time of Survival
Carried in handwoven Amish wicker baskets from the root cellarlike pickled garlicsealed in mason jars with yellow Ginghamfabric toppersthe world needs poems.
Awe Is…
JehovahZeusJahRaOsirisAllahJesusGodYahwehThe GoddessIsisMardukAdonisPenelopeIndraJupiterMarsQuetzalcoatlThorOrpheusGaiaApolloAhura MazdaBrahmaBuddhaBachusIo
On a Soccer Field Behind the Rec Center
Geese honkFlorida boundIt finally feels like late Octoberthe feeling of being left behind
Death
opens as a lotus petal all at oncein all directions under the kind pressureof twilight a translucentblue topaz feeling disappearing into an ancient softness
Silence
is the power of rivers to tell a new story over and over again until it is ancient and revolutionary.
Cyberspace
had a way of telling us we could never have it better in this light, in your liver, the future became unusually gentle a machine deitya bronze mirrora moment of medicine and voices and teachings and sentience upon the trillions of piles of earth.
Back Then
Our opinions grow older. Animals and people die. A skeletal system eatingto survive. We are all killersin one way or another.