My skull crashed against

The trunk down across the trail -

We’ve sagged since last spring.

All Thanksgiving day,

Just begging for attention,

Lone red mailbox flag.

Lost on Cold Mountain,

Cliffs, torrents & blasted pines -

I’ve sought for this site.

Rushing to my death

Down a cataract of days

At the speed of breath

Stanza from ‘A Summer’s Dream’ by Elizabeth Bishop

Every night we listened

for a horned owl.

In the horned lamp flame,

the wallpaper glistened.

Chunks of flotsam washed up by the lazy surf of a waking mind:

The collective soul exists. I know because it just rejected my application for admission. Existence is futile! This slogan is meaningless.

Home to multitudes,

Birthing foxes & midges,

Their woods is now logged.

In a loud moment

Breaking waves turn the lake white -

Summer thunder storm.

“

ungainly at first

a great blue heron

rises above the trees

what I’d meant to say

it no longer matters

”
K.A. Martin via twitter

Hot humid Sunday

People locked inside cool rooms

Crows rule earth and sky