Author Archives: Pasquale

Twitter @Dirty_Squal

Rain

Why is it raining?

Because the trees like to dance

applauding the sky

Unsheathed

Like cicadas my mind thinks about

aliveness.

Throwing words like a squirrels attempt at a

bird feeder.

Landing harshly on listening ears to gorge

on my own voice.

Meekly the honeybee collects the salt

of my labor.

Unlike him I use my point unwisely

away from the nest.

Screened-In Porch

Watching my nephew stop,

in awe, and surprise,

of psithurism and dancing shade,

illuminates the map

of the inner self.

The self that receives

with its whole body.

The one that discovers how to roll

over and over.

–

Dedicated to M. B.

N Glenn Ave

A mother’s Ford

careening down

open asphalt.

Children’s faces

pressed into wind.

Fingers grasping glass

leaning.

The window’s safety,

like Atlas, holding

shoulders-to-shoulder,

wide-eyes,

open-mouths,

condensation.

Looking towards the sun.

As they all made their way

back home.

Walk

Wind waving the leaves

Cicadas humming the trees

Butterflies in shit

Yard

Cat and deer playing

Conspiratorially

I shouldn’t have seen

Acer Palmatum

Edaphoecotropism

slowly engulfing

a house once

occupied

by birds.

An easy climb.

Hanging, reassured

by the short fall

to the ground.

I’d no plans for

anemochory,

unlike the samara fruit,

a winged achene,

falling in perfect ellipse.

An eclipsing hum

all the way down.

But here I am

now, watching

blossoms

and riding

Her wind.

———

In loving memory – M.E.(B).C.