we saw for the first time what a complete absence of nuance would look like. How irresistible it would be.
insomniac eyelids on strike for overtime
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.
driving home from the hospital
the boundless sky
snail chewing
on an empty snail shell
the autumn ahead
to each their own fall
rhododendron leaves
tropical depression
touch-me-not quivering
in the rain
Two trains running
Trying to find the words for a rock oak on the mountainside…
humid evening
a small cloud gathers
on the road
end of summer
holes
in mushroom parasols
volunteer tomato
holding its children up
to the sun
deep in the forest
a hummingbird scratching
behind her ear
house
held by a swallowtail
with tattered wings
the exact middle of nowhere
empty web
