I remember too often things I never though of,
…….what nobody said, what never came to pass.
So much that is alien staggers through
…….the mundane labyrinth of this sentience—
I don’t say my sentience—that when the coneflower
…….lifts its heavy blossom by the blue rain barrel
At dawn, I don’t know whether to feel thanks
…….for its grace or to grieve for the absence
Of bloodstains in the garden. Images pass,
…….like goldfinch and vole mating, before
What we call the mind’s eye, though it is not
…….an eye, nor does it belong to the mind.
Yesterday, a flock of black drones flew
…….over the neighbor’s satellite dish. Last night,
In the news, a village like ours was bombed to bone dust.
…….Let the alien enter. Let ravens have the parlor,
Let spiders do what they will in the internet cafes
…….of the dead. My life is not my life,
But it is not no one’s. If being alive is all
…….about not being alive, and vice versa,
Then forget all that and dream of something else.
…….I can’t know what’s possible, but it is there already
In an unweeded back corner of my consciousness, breeding
…….in compost, taking a torturous breath and eating its young.
Also by T.R. Hummer (see all)
- An Interview with Garrett Hongo - February 19, 2022
- Changes - February 25, 2021
- Stray - February 25, 2021