Day 24: anaphora in one

One one song one song at the coming of morning one song over the water one voice and then another one one one day one day when the soldiers go too far one day of decision long fermenting one step and then another one one one world one world where gibbons dance one world of…

Day 23: Briefcase of Sedation

1. When I emerge from this brief case of sedation, drawled the poet in his Montréalais growl, I’ll be arrayed in robes of starlight. Then we’ll dance. 2. It’s just too easy to imagine spies in Sixties’ palettes, knife-crease pants far more alcohol than today’s meek livers and doctors would chance; the case swung well,…

Day 22: Laconic Tonic

Don’t ‘at’ me any Earth Day bullshit, i’m in the garden: unless you have some skin to put in this game, shut up. If all you have is voice then tell me like a peasant only the poet bones of it. But better you bend your back to shovel lift these bricks, use knees. Kill…

Day 21: Distance Between

shard and treasure garden and rubble over and renewal peak oil crisis oil glut crisis new ice age crisis global warming crisis nuclear crisis viral crisis crisis of faith clarified vision shell crisis and fledging wind and harbour said and heard heard and accepted apprehend and comprehend curtain rise and fall over and renewal rubble…

Day 20: disproof

Long before Amiskwaciy an inland sea, balmy changed for Her own reasons long before we named her Gaia. In Nass valley, volcanic green. Off Sri Lanka’s coast, city of myth. Amber birthed in Baltic gloaming. Tales of Atlantis. Song after song extolling our echo of the One Song in which She, too is singing. When…

Day 19: in and out of focus

It slips, the mechanism beyond reach and so decide: empire hides in your friends who spend nights awake, dazed in psych wards, prescribed calming doses against delusion that things lurch because they do not fulfil democratic duty to be Greta and Greta and greater than the sum of one in empire. Beyond the slippery mechanism…

Day 18: Happy to Hear

This is the way of it Earth is alive Turtle Island sleeps until the Song says rise, brighten your limbs rainwash your green and give voice thread geese through windlines, lace swans along lakes let the mountains ring with testimony, every valley run brown and rich in stonefields write slenderly in starfields etch cold fire…

Day 17: 140 Characters

1. Any 20 of them could be born on a Saturday, but odds and probablities love things more randomly 2. Temujin, who became Chinggis Khaan of all the wide kingdoms himself has resolved into countless refracted versions of descendants’ dreams his manifold destiny 3. one hundred or so were spotted dogs, but before them five Parisian…

Day 16: List Poem, On Gardens

What gardeners become: contemplative sanguine patient genocidal in service of their chosen. What I love in my garden: saskatoons, who rise early dandelions, earlier still that shaggy sense of wellbeing presaged in first green lace slug traps, like Mom would set. Spring garden memories: Grandma, tongue thick in English sorrowing for strawberry time in those…

Day 15: Intervention

despite invention torturer’s tools despite mines infecting velvet against the roar of drone defilement outside the sick air where feckless men force reckless plans still the One Song     We’re halfway through 30/30. Today’s image by Kathysg on pixabay.com

Day 14: Danger Café

lightness, darkness, and their shadow clan of degrees* hold down the tables this one reeks jet fuel, african dust notebooks of coordinates that one sleeks wild hair, bespoke pockets memorized fragilities another cuts the gloom angled shoulders, sharpened words particulars recorded some are cool as lebanese cedar groves watching from internal heights some smoulder kamchatka…

Day 13: Carnival of Jesters

how they move through morning’s trees shimmering cast back the sky from wing and tail forecasting indulgent days of dance attendant on mawkish puppets shrieking naked lusting beaks out blindly trusting how they move the season’s cycle onward juggling songs up to the One eyes sharp for providence smuggling sticks in random symmetry, as home…