If This Isn’t Nice, I Don’t Know What Is

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Sunset from the Beloit College Science Center

A set of two poems written since entering the Wisconsin summer heat. Right now we’re in the midst of the summer that never came. After a June/July/August of highs of 75, the true summer has arrived with 95 degree September days. I write exclusively sitting under trees on campus with my Nalgene close at hand and run only at dawn and dusk.

 

Please,

let me wrap you

in threads of gold,

sew you up in a silvery cocoon

that glows in the night.

Your bones look cold

and your shoulders bear a weight

I cannot ever share.

So please,

let me give you what I can

so I can shrug some of my own burden

off and onto the floor.

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Soybeans on soybeans

My voice

thin and reedy

filters like water

then evaporates into so little–

tiny particles lost in translation

of transmitting me

into the universe.

My sound reverberates back into my mouth,

shoved down my throat

and reaches my heart, my core.

Out there, did it reach the stars

the moon, your eyelashes or fingertips?

I can never know.

But now the vibration is nestled inside,

between two blood cells and a molecule of oxygen,

reluctantly at home in me.

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Eco-art in Big Hill Park
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