no Ygeorgi we are not being blown off course
from the face of the earth. what dreams you have,
staring out on the white-capped waves
praying for another annihilation
that will not come —
or at least, not like that. save such dire visions
for the fire and brimstone crowd
those sandwich board preachers
with their cowbell invocations
and lost and scattered congregations
too scared to embrace a new sun
or to walk on a new Earth
to live a new day even as we know
this one will set in a few hours.
Category Archives: sonnet
an epiclesis over America’s Test Kitchen
a brief respite, today: the sweet distraction
of the domestic, a Sunday afternoon
laundry and garbage and the futility
of hauling recycling to the curb; she cooks
between our short bursts of energy for chores
the cadence of letting the dogs out and in
and I sit in my chair, smoke my pipe
thinking about replacing the dead
flourescent light above the kitchen sink,
repairing again the sink, and more laundry
and moving winter gear
upstairs, and the high water dropping
and what Monday will look like
as the TV chef prepares chicken scampi
Days 2025: Spring Equinox
we must trust in the knowing of daffodils
and in the songs of returning birds perched
in trees along the wharf, singing regardless
of the grumblings of tired old men, regardless
of urban noise and the rumbling interstate traffic
we must trust in the slightest hint of non-arctic air
underneath the chill, the half-scent of spring in the rain
the need to remind ourselves
the sump pit needs draining and the dogs
tracking in mud from the back fence
where they go to bark at the neighbor’s adult son
hiding and playing with axes, imagining
that the end of the world
will be his time to shine like an equinox sun.
