to rescue children drowning in a river. One of them has already grown fins and a tail.
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.
I dream I’m possessed by a demon who gives me seizures.
No pain, no gain, he makes me hiss through a throat stretched thin as a telephone line.
it’s not winter
it’s white springtime
#fakenews
As the green drains from the leaves,
why doesn’t it pool underground
like a reservoir of eternal summer?
I dreamed I was at a picnic table across from Donald Trump.
But he wasn’t president, just a racist old relative with appalling fashion sense, and everyone else was pretending he didn’t exist.
college town
even the old motel
is younger than me
In a dream, I ask advice on raising children
and am told to bury them in the yard so they’ll ripen.
Every autumn
I’m impressed anew by the sheer inventiveness of death.
I dreamed a giant silk moth fluttered into a museum
and joined its life-like relatives on the wall.
I dreamed I’d written a book about all my disguises.
When I woke up, it was true.
The rain comes hammering on the plush roof of the earth.
on the plush roof of the earth. After a while, it opens one by one its mush rooms.
Four months away
even the full moon isn’t
where I left it
