Grackles

A yard full of glistening Grackles emits a cacophonous chorus of
staccato chirps and clicks and cackles, packed in perilously close quarters,
grazing over the grass and hazing any precocious attackers - a torrent of
flits and trips and flinches. The robins all seem too timid (as do the finches)
to negotiate this imposing maze of iridescence. The bravest of these invaders
are chased away; a few unlucky ones are nearly tackled. Some of these birds
would have hackles, if only they were dogs and not Grackles.

poetry

Yes, I Believe in an Afterlife

Yes, I believe in an afterlife, because after life
comes death. And yet, traveling through time
in this timeship of Now with a prow and a stern
and some room in which to move around,
I can solemnly say, with the firmest upper-lip,
beyond any shadow of a doubt, that sometimes
I wish to survive my death like a fish living both
on land and in the sea, no matter how it all turns out.

poetry

Who Hid the Path?

Who hid the path
that led me to this place,
one filled not with wrath
but with grace - the fragrance
of a singular space - a pleasure
without risk of stain, a state
without fear, guilt, or shame?
Can one even measure the shock
of such a shape? Surely not
by ticks of a clock, nor gestures
of blood or breath encased
within one's transient frame.
Are only fools enslaved
by time and space?

poetry

The Red-tailed Hawk

The Red-tailed Hawk tucks its broad wings,
plummeting sharply to the ground like a stone,
like an arrow, trained on its goal of flesh and bone,
pupils wide as eclipses upon this serendipitous
fix of things: some movement's caught its
steadfast stare; so it deigns to leave the air
down to cleave the hare with what mere Nature
saw fit to share: razor-fine talons set to tear
tender sinews of flesh wrapped in hoary hair.

poetry