2026, Days, Ohio River Valley Literature, the no-scape

obsessed with the tired formality of trees

centuries standing down the ridge / them that are left after tornadoes and fire and heavy snow / some wavering the wind the way / tired old soldiers might / after seeing too much fallen timber / towards the creek that some say / leads to a heaven of endless arteries / guarded by eternal sycamores

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Mick Parsons
Mick Parsons

Poet. Essayist. Fictioner. Steamboat fireman. Bit of a grackle.

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2025, Autumn, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, river life

Hot Hotel Coffee Invocations

hot hotel coffee and pipe outside on a crisp morning
keeping company with straw and stars and stripe kitsch
the colors of October: a canvas stretching
along the river that frames these days
telling myself it’s a day off, I can breathe a little, drink coffee

going to see old friends soon and buy a few supplies
every waking is a counting and a reckoning of things needed
every waking is a remembering and planning
every waking is a new realization, a different surprise

that I am closer to the currents of things
than the day before

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