Monday, May 23, 2016

existential.


my ear is ringing.

my ear is ringing, and

the raven sounds his dire warning

from the pine tree in the garden,

where he waits for the unwary chickens

next door to leave their eggs

unattended.



my ear is ringing,

and a jet whines above me,

above the white plaster ceiling 

and the curling roof shingles

and the cannibalistic raven 

waiting in the pines.


my ear is 

ringing, ringing, ringing,

inside my head inside

my house

beside the pine

under the late spring sky where

the raven 

waits




Sunday, May 1, 2016

a poem for my brother






This poem is for my brother,
who called to wonder why
I haven't been taking pictures lately
and if I was still

alive.

So here I am, brother,
still holding the camera you gave me
and keeping my eye out for light,
wherever it may find me.