the missed spaces, the missed places, the missed times, the missed rhymes, the missed persons I could have been or will be, the fear that restricts me, the choices that elate me, the food that prolongs, the life that kills and opens and winds up and scares and tears and screws, inspires and heightens and pitches and rolls and drowns and crowns and takes hold of and molds and breaks and pours into and empties and burns.

and here we steal away together

recorded 14.6.18

Watched the bumble bee

Gather from asymmetry,

Its whole survival.

 

Towers of clover.

Each structure a pink-white bloom.

Pollen in waiting.

 

Bumble bee slips toes and

Tongue in, a dance of one yet

For hive’s harmony.

 

Moth arrived, same dance,

Same hunger. Another style.

A tightrope walk.

 

Wings held together.

Slate-gray-blue balancing, black

Fine lines draw legs and

 

Antennae. Counter-

Weight is moth’s dance. Harmony

Held in one body.

 

One child cries out.

A mother stirs. Each child

And mother follow.

 

Harmony of cries

In a public park, the walls

Of home disappear.

 

Crows caw next squawking

Of the departing creatures.

Carcass to scavenge.

 

You told us of the

Birds and the bees but you left

Out diversity.

recorded 16.6.18

recorded 9.6.18