the blind dog lapping
at her reflection
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.
“A dinosaur.”
Said with a dismissive tone, as if it should’ve known the sky was glass.
Neurons take a dendritic form
to maximize their receptivity to the lightning of thought.
Let’s be honest:
we were adrift long before we were at sea.
The snow’s cold flesh
is as full of life as any corpse.
What brutal moonlight persisting throughout the day
has convinced us this stillness is meditative?
In the coming chill
we will all have to become subnivean.
What is more subversive than laughter?
Only love. Maybe.
sawed-off end of a log
sawed-off end of a log
now riddled
with openings
maple-leaf viburnum
maple-leaf viburnum / turns out its true color / is viburnum
spicebush swallowtail
probing the beebalm’s red forked tongues
state forest
haiku: state forest / a maze of snail trails / on the road sign
