for Barry G.

"Food is any substance, usually composed of carbohydrates, fats, proteins and water, that can be eaten or drunk by an animal, including humans, for nutrition."


teach me how to fish by voice
to keep trumpets for the day I drown
past this bread and water life

to savor the clouds like inviolable
children, to pencil in my own lightning
when the ocean forgets I need

salt on my hands and knees
to season my erosion, to push through
the old sunken minefield I call

home when I'm asleep, to remember
the heart's navy can rescue me from
any evil I imagine

1 comment:

  1. Smell Right Before and Just After the Rain

    I breathe from my nose
    on days I think it might rain, bating the scent.

    And the clouds are rumbling their apologies,
    hanging out the rain
    in sheets, so it could dry
    by the chatter of the winds.

    It’s the thick kind of rain,
    gusting sideways to keep up
    with the rush of passersby.

    I look up, let the rain bounce into my nose.

    The drips are a beautiful symmetry,
    translusentual the way it spread.
    when the wind takes a breath,
    the rain straightens,
    falling verticallycertain.

    The storm raises the neighborhood’s
    blinders like three days after Christmas lights come down
    and brown pine needles
    bleed from street to street.

    No one’s looking
    out for anything.

    Johns and Janes are sheltering themselves
    with free newspapers
    and the popped collars of waterproof coats.

    My coat has no collar.
    Street vending machines are all empty.

    And the rain is weakening, anyway,
    only enough to alert a conscious observer.

    Crowds of grass rub elbows,
    finish drinking themselves heavy, they fall asleep.

    The clouds' candy paint,
    a lucid mix of grays, blues, and a pink,
    seems dry in the eyes of passersby
    and the white is pushing through.

    I’m looking for that smell of survival,
    the sweetness
    soaking into the concrete,

    the vapor

    always following
    the rain’s retreat.