please, Ygeorgi, please the oven leaks fresh salamanders / these currents run upriver / towards the mountains / do not adjust the pilot light
please, Ygeorgi, please the oven leaks fresh salamanders / these currents run upriver / towards the mountains / do not adjust the pilot light
T-Minus
The morning after the storm
and the rocket launch, the first
I watched since 1986,
I’m drinking coffee and making plans
to roll on home down I-64.
There is always one more
countdown clock, always
another round of system checks
and then, when the time is right,
go.
Double-Edged Prayer
the grass grew in my absence
and still I have to service the mower:
new plug, new air filter,
the double-edged prayer
that pulling the cord will
and will not start the mower
and the summer will come, strangle
the house in tall grass and native weeds
terrifying the neighbors who walk their dogs
in front of my house on the same sidewalk
where the guy next door sells
his widower father’s prescription pain pills
[Daybook 2026 // Spring 4.2-4.3.26
Watching lights in the night sky
over Carter County, Kentucky
that do not move like stars.
One could be Venus, illuminated
by the moon. Others sweep
like satellites. My friend wonders
about the light through the trees.
I assume it’s a haint.
[Day book 2026 // Spring 4.1.26]
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