You won’t believe what happened next.
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.
jumping spider
pressed flat except for
its arc of eyes
ancient street tree
all its alternative routes
marked X
dog sniffing
past the trailing arbutus—
coyote scat
Internal division is in your best interests
if it means being always prepared for a change in the wind.
throbbing
a hundred ways at once—
wood frog party
spring equinox
the tracks of the wind
have yet to melt
A witch hazel growing beside the road
improvises a slow ode to travel.
Still life with landscape.
Self-portrait as nude.
Illuminated spreadsheet.
Frozen watercolor.
The white dwarf’s embrace of its black hole partner is so close,
it sends headline writers into hyperdrive. To some, the black hole is predatory; to others, the star is insane. But what if it’s love?
On this day of small storms,
that GIF of the sun hurtling through space and the spiraling tracks of its planets.
The music entered me.
But it wasn’t until I got up to dance that I entered the music.
