Sonnet

with what time is left listen to
air conditioners drop drop drop
on the used tea bag of summer
while the waves of heat hit you on
uneven shards of sidewalk—though
later perhaps you’ll find some sweet
solitude and dream some drip could
bring a forgotten bloom or rare
herb back but the brink keeps creeping
and that green shade so far away—
so retreat to concrete above
the noise but not the heat and make
a quiet in which your fingers
if nothing else may sprout some leaves

New ebook!

Well, e-chapbook, really. I’ve been working very hard on this little collection of a dozen sonnets and I’m glad to say that they’re finally ready.

Here’s a sample. Enjoy!

 

we ran out of gas before we got there
metaphorically of course the car was
just an ancient generation’s notion
of freedom or some such so later when

we seemed to be writing a story for
the new employer on the optimal
monetization of the eternal
memes (to avoid the friends convenience made—
their brotips and conversations like photos
of completely uncluttered interiors)

we made a slow-motion escape attempt
but were swallowed by the slothy summer

and rose at noon to find the cicadas
gleefully gone on their fatal picnic

 

Check out my books page if you want to see more.