this day, the end of a relationship
like in all gothic southern fixtures
starboard mayflies herald the heat
but here on the wharf we know
everything floats even dry land
except for them that swim
and take the currents where they go
Tag Archives: mayflies
not quite August, and the winter memory is getting shorter
the world is burning
even for the beautiful bodies
a late July sun looks down
on the hottest days in 100,000 years
and some say ocean current collapse
is on the horizon
here we are still battling mosquitoes and mayflies
swearing we are not put off
by the large number of cemeteries
when at the start of summer
my wife makes deviled eggs and the mayflies have hatched on the wharf / the rain is warm like the spit of a thousand cynical angels / the wharf raccoon gets (re)caught / being between Derby and the State Fair, a couple of street folks sleep on the amphitheater steps near River Road / the only respite from rain is its unsatisfactory absence