Remove the Ivy from the wall
Talking with my half-Chinese friend
about Sanskrit and Latin, I wonder
why my hands are cold.
A dry corn muffin,
I wet each mouthful
with a shot of hot, bitter coffee.
In the graveyard
I scrape lichen off granite
with my index finger.
Wind comes off the ocean
Over the salt marsh
An audience of cedars and headstones,
I clench the rubber handles
of the clippers, cut the vine.
Someday the ocean will cover this land.
I hope by then I am dead.
drifting with uprooted cedars
in the great wave.
-
Roofing
a steel nail into tar
forms a protective seal
tipping to adjust to the pitch
i put down my hammer
to remove an inchworm from my wrist
the coarse roof spreads out beneath me
all day I build this barrier
till my skin is burned
covered with a layer of dirt
till my muscles barely hold me up
a maple reaches high above us
shielding us
blocking the hot fury
of the celestial Father
always setting up a barrier
a wall to keep out thieves
a gas globe keeps out
clear chaos
a thin
film covering
organelles of cells
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