2025, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, sonnet, summer

burning in August

the neighborhood tweaker shuffles, waits
chews his fingernails, pops pimples
on his knees outside the old man’s house

next door. On his more put together days
he puts on the makeshift fuckboy,
tries to erase the age in his face

with turned ’round baseball caps
and intentionally ripped jean shorts
wearing paper thin: thin as what ties

together any hallucination,  only to fade, to die
a civilization decivilizing —  burning in August
like unwatered tomato plants,

this dream dead on the vine
this alarm sounding too close to time



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2025, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, sonnet, summer, Working Class Literature

Sonnet about when the HVAC in a heat wave

We will not be broken by the heat
though the dogs languish and pant
in spite of fresh cold water in the kitchen.
There is no option but exist as best we can
soak in the cool morning air
embrace the relief of night rain
the sky cracking lightning after the long
sweaty burn of the day

taking in the dance of bats after sunset
as we sit on the back porch, finding
civility in the constant experiment
defining our home – your rescued plants
my unfinished projects – against a world
of mass-produced distraction.

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2025, Ohio River Valley Literature, poetry, sonnet

we are at war with the trees

data centers sprout like liberty gardens
we are at war with the trees
fiber optic roots stretch underground
a jungle of power lines overhead

we are at war with the trees
Congress is extending the hunting season
since we can’t trust the animals
and the subversive nature of fish

is well documented // fiber optic roots eat
into the subfloor of our most sacred monuments
but we have bought off the rats
and legions guard the tendrils tying us together

the jungle is all copper two and three phase
we are constructing equitorial power plants
big pharma is solving our addiction
to free-range oxygen // beware the fish

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