Author: cfblack
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yard fly
To the yard fly on our window sill We tried to shoo you out the door But you kept banging your head on the window Buzzing louder and louder Denying what you cannot see And what will not let you win 11-19-20
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Sunny spot
Hot summer days I sit barefoot in the shade Cool fall days I wear long sleeves and shoes Seek the sunny spot In the yard to sip coffee and think of home Of sock hats thermal underwear, gloves and warm coats Of shoveling snow On winter mornings before school Of throwing snow balls At yellow…
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voices
long delayed project finished sit back, sip ginger tea admire my Dad’s voice barks what the hell took you so long my Mom’s voice counters you could have done better trying to become an adult but voices won’t let me 11-17-20
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Approximately Dream #3.14159
last night I met with the gods of poetry in a dream they said I could ask them one question I thought for a bit and asked if we had only four fingers on each hand would sonnets be written in iambic tetrameter they shook their heads and replied for that I must ask Shakespeare…
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happy/sad
I remember the morning breakfast at my parents’ table Dad in his chair by the window Mom making coffee, frying eggs, bustling, always bustling. He said, I wanted to tell you first; in that split second, I thought the worst, cancer or some other kind of slow dying. I left the Republican Party; they’ve lost…
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A Bigly Branch
High in a tree a rotted branch hangs suspended in air fuel for a late night fire Afraid of falling holding on to live branches refusing to concede it has lost its battle Maybe it will fall in the middle of the night; no one to see, no one to hear no one to hurt…
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Buttered limbs
Today, I go into the wilderness, no armor or weapons. Face monsters and wild beasts. I will not resist their hunger their gnashing and tearing their ravenous devouring. Should I shower first, butter my limbs, flavor skin with spices, sprinkle oregano in my hair? Today, I go into the wilderness, look for me in scat…
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untitled
Some leaves’ glide path is smooth gondolas floating in air. Some swing back and forth like cradles. Some spin dizzy. Some resist, rise up on thermals. Some go heavy to ground. All I know is that I’m falling. 11-15-20
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Dog day Saturday
man with blind dog walks slow enjoys last times together blonde nurse walks black dog every morning her husband walks at noon two doors down lonely dog barks in back yard brown dog at corner fence complains to anything that moves Boston terrier and pit bull mix pull their human along as he talks on…
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After the storm
How many drums would call us to dance or empty bellies amplify strings strung? How many flutes would the artificer hollow or drum sticks ask a blade to shape their soul? How many castanets would kiss flamenco fingers or wood blocks teach beats in grade school? If storm downed trees told chainsaws, quiet I’m not…
