skull / on my filing cabinet / still has all its teeth
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.
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
diseased laurel leaves
red and green against the snow— Merry fucking Christmas
Thanksgiving day
nothing but the sound of the wind hissing in the weeds
black walnut hulls
their stains leak in thin tendrils down the face of the wall
shelf fungi on a stump
even with these special seats squirrels still make a mess
