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Entries in nature (11)

Saturday
May062017

the modern pastoral

it is the AGE & PLACE

of the modern pastoral

exactly as it sounds

Click to read more ...

Friday
Feb102017

green jays eating

the red pen got heavy

and the work were mostly dull

‘the time i fell in love…’

‘my prom date…’

‘when my team went to regionals…’

so i pushed them aside

Click to read more ...

Saturday
Jun112016

a natural critic

the weather’s in no mood for fiction

                               tonight

the winds are scattering the patio furniture

               knocking them against the large glass doors

Click to read more ...

Friday
Feb192016

two lectures

the other day

during a fiery lecture

          about our vicious histories

a cardinal

     out on the first warm day

                     of february

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Friday
Feb052016

[a roadrunner stands tall]

a roadrunner stands tall

on a state mandated

          patch of grass

               looking at the noontime traffic

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Friday
Jan222016

green river

pressed between

a guardrail and a wall of occupied earth

the path down to the guadalupe

            is nothing but cement that didn’t set

                                                            properly

Click to read more ...

Wednesday
Jan212015

Balcony Buzzards

 

There is a building

Half a mile from this poem

It’s white and empty

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Tuesday
Sep162014

The Beginning of Long Mornings

those mornings I used to wake up

                                                at 5:30 to go with my father

                                                to the ranch

                                                a round-up

                                                a calf-cutting

                                                vaccinations

Click to read more ...

Wednesday
Jul232014

The Lunch Hour Rush

Time clicks loud and down

The highway is crammed with trucks and

                                                            Rules

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Thursday
Mar062014

Jasinto and the Golden Tongue: Part 2

Soon, the rough stairs gently became solid and the land was relatively flat leading up to the tree. Jasinto stood carefully, his hands out to balance himself, though his eyes were on the tree. From it, moss and chains hung like ribbons and strange scars dotted it at intervals as though marking off at the forks of the branches. At the foot of it, almost set into the black trunk itself, was a stone disc with some alphabet of great antiquity on it.

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