Wednesday, June 23, 2010

rainbow wing

the longest day of the year has come and gone though there's been little sun to make you believe it; the arborvitae sway in the light breeze like old ladies in a huddle at the bow of a large ship, it would be more lovely than the cargo ship we saw yesterday from the banks of the columbia though its colors were a time worn greek flag and its name was rainbow wing, bound for panama; theirs would be an ocean liner and they would sway atop the deck imagining their destination like the arborvitae in my yard, swaying with little reason to believe in anything else; we threw sticks in the river for the dogs to swim after and we watched as the rainbow wing sliced through the placid waters like scissors through silk and we wondered where the crew must sleep, and if there are windows there.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


as a child
i smooshed a spider dead-
at having rid our home
of such a menace
i looked to my parents
with pride

how will you
bring that life back
my father asked,
what will you do
to replace what you have taken?

i wonder
about the balance of things
especially now
soaring precariously over the land
of my nation
having just left
the land of my birth
and the land of my father
and his fathers,
before him-

and i wonder
if it isn't just a story
we tell ourselves;

that we can ever
replace what we've taken
seems like make-believe
or the simple shaping
of a child's character
to, you hope,
one of respect
and empathy.

i'm starting to wonder
if the world
doesn't get less and less light-
if that deep
and ancient fire
doesn't die a little
with each extinguished

though, truth be told,
i'm sick of explanations
and find the reasoning
and full of holes.

i didn't die
in the cannon-force explosion
of the harpoon gun
shot from a heart of stone
with a cold, accurate aim
and i wonder,
why not?