I stumble over oak roots
on my fat trek down to the lake,
ignore jingling ice cream vendors,
Dunkin’ Donuts shops, Krispy
Rorschach patterns on my back,
Read more "Fat Trek"
I stop for water at a tactile
stone bubbler, not distracted
by the lemonade fountains,
root beer floats or sugared
hyacinth teas and I avoid
I-HOP for lunch.
that drunk man without a home is yelling
“happy new years” but it’s only the day
after Christmas. for him, what’s the difference?
automatic doors open for me, the security officer
does not bat an eye.
Read more "the H.E.B."
while placing produce on the conveyor
I got distracted and
some little inkling of a poem slipped out
my mind, off my earlobe, and smacked
the ground. it flipped like a fish, wriggled
for some other undeserving wretch to receive.
somewhere on the coastline of my memory, two girls and a slick canoe
glide across a blue puddle, their opposite oars dipping in tandem.
one girl stands and stumbles like a wave overcome,
while the other sits and stares at their watery window.
beneath the girls, liquid glass and undersea sidewalk.
beyond them, a fish’s bones settled at the brink
of a sandbar’s black out. the girls are only canoeing because
Read more "the still water that runs deep"
the wave-like one is scared of fish, and feels their lips against her feet
Sittin’ to the left of Gandhi
Peaceful intentions and all
Honolulu Zoo behind me
Girls playing volleyball
Yet, the world burns in more ways than one
My wife in the water, with beautiful fish
Read more "Left of Gandhi"
Above the east bank green rays beam from beyond The aquarelle of this dawn patiently emerges, brightening The fleeing the stars & indigo twilight Sand castles still guard this shore, surviving the higher wash of the night
Read more "Sunrise River (Río Uruguay)"
As if backyard tennessee reaches the edge of the pacific chipping granite til it bleeds sweet tea crickets refusing to be reined or digitized too hot for mason jars or any lids
Read more "Ready for Anything"
Wilderness You call to me and I go. I leave my compass; I know North. I leave my rosary; my faith is in your Aurora Borealis. I’ll follow your light through the foothills. The spines of leaves shiver, emerald pools show me the way. I pray. For you, I’d catch a fish in my teeth. […]
Read more "Wilderness"
Burnt Rice It’s a broken leg — as in not my fault, the reason I put food on the stove and forgot it (I) existed which is to say that I existed once, I think I was a fish. When you called me into the room to say I burnt the rice, I faded blue. […]
Read more "Burnt Rice"
Below is Part 9 of 16 monthly installments for Visitant. ◄◄ Read the prologue / introduction ◄ Read Part 8: Holding Patterns: Dowries Lateral dots et alia, I ditch anterior peruke, reconfigure dorsal ballast, and streamline for cultural pursuits as sleuth Dot Motley, Esq. Suited in dated sharkskin, I minimize drag and launch forward in full […]
Read more "The Jill Hill | Deep Nectar: Rendezvous"
Pat Anthony writes from the rural Midwest finding inspiration, in the soil’s rugged furrows and the faces of those working it. She frequently uses the land as lens while she mines characters, including herself, to explore relationships as a means to heal and survive living with bi-polar disorder. Former poetry editor of Potpourri (out of print) she holds […]
Read more "To the River Gods"