at the trailhead / a maple limb grows down / into the earth
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.
indigo bunting corpse
indigo bunting corpse / in front of my door / shockingly blue
snake at my feet
snake at my feet / wanting and not wanting / to stroke its scales
the acrid odor
the acrid odor / of a stinkbug’s fear / kitchen spider
skull
skull / on my filing cabinet / still has all its teeth
sprouting acorns
haiku: “sprouting acorns / the No Hunting sign / nearly blank with age”
big fake stare
haiku: “big fake stare / the caterpillar is tired / of being a caterpillar”
throwing his voice
throwing his voice so the woodstove warbles—Carolina wren
snow squall
snow squall
the dog stops tugging
on the leash
rainbows
rainbows
where the chainsaw sat
leaking oil
this motel
always has vacancies— dead maple
January wind
draws a circle on the snow with a trapped leaf
