mature reality
don’t be a child
even if you want to be
it’s not nice
and the bad kind of selfish
Author: Georgia Tell
Poem #241
coyote sat on a throne of branches
yip, yip, yip, he decreed
rabbit complied as best she could
deer committed the order to memory
wolf went on his business
crow started a revolution
bobcat scratched at the throne
the branches snapped
and coyote fell to the ground
twisting his hind leg
four years later he still lifts it extra
Poem #240
Monomorium minimum
little black ant
drags 20 times its weight
a superhero hated
a superhero unnoticed
wreaks havoc at the church picnic
drags away the crumbs of sweet bread
humans run and scream
slapping themselves
destruction at its most unintentional
little black ant at the center
Poem #239
shooting birds in the dark
can’t use eyes
use memory of the past
and sound of their song
be accurate
stray bullets have consequences
steady hands
steady mind
hysteria won’t do
they’re just birds
but kindness is necessary
Poem #238
black spider makes its home
spins thread under my bureau
upside down man on the floor sees
we seek but do not find
ever vigilant for a predator
but black spider goes about its business
Poem #237
a well-lit waiting room
some stand, lucky sit
the buzz of tv speakers
and children smacking gum
should I leave?
probably will.
Poem #236
tingly skin and sore feet
ecstatic exhaustion
elevator nightmare fuel
sensual alternative feast
empty trance bounce
we move until we can’t
sucking energy out of the air
even stopped, we don’t stop
curl our toes and vocalize
floating unattached to worry
tangible joy is flow
Poem #235
blue-eyed girl smiles
mostly silent
except when she lives
laughing kindness
cool, calm, collected
an adult in almost every sense
I admire her
I try hard to be admirable too
she inspires that
with her gentle sweetness
and boisterous opinions
so different from me
but I like being her big sister
Poem #234
no one likes to touch your soggy underwear
you make children cry!
you make hope die!
you make good men lie!
please whatever you do
don’t leave clothes in the washer
Poem #233
emotionally empty
and relaxed
