laid bare in the woods a junkie’s pale face
Author: Dave Bonta
I live in an Appalachian hollow in the Juniata watershed of central Pennsylvania, and spend a great deal of time walking in the woods. My books of poetry include FAILED STATE: HAIBUN, ICE MOUNTAIN: AN ELEGY, BREAKDOWN: BANJO POEMS, and ODES TO TOOLS.
sunset gold
under umbrellas a buzzing phone
ghost pipes
sweating through the longest day of the year
first heat wave
a black bear’s clawprints in the mud
Jumpseed leaf (linked verse sequence)
vireo holding forth
on a verse from vireo
bend in the road
an indigo bunting
dries his wings
dancing flames
a ruby-throated hummingbird here and gone
night barn
a field sparrow singing
in his sleep
Memorial Day
a red squirrel raging above the grave
Jupiter and Mars
almost touching the whippoorwill
millipede
fear spiralling in my hand
In black cherry time
This is what happens as soon as I stop walking, my daily habit: I become habitat.
