[WHERE AN ARM IS STRETCHED OUT AND POOF THE YOUNG BLOODS GET IT RIGHT]
where an arm is stretched out and poof the young bloods get it right
I have walked the topic of pigeons and pecking for 50 years
fined for recycling bins out too early and sitting too late
the science of beans and rice trimming the folklore of a bridge
seeking food in a figure with an arranged wood pile for shelter
music thumps from a car along the street where gravel never dies
snug in the project of many lines worn from stopping to watch
pond water and benches of watchers of pond water and ducks
like lichen a schoolyard of moms spreads across lawn statues
I am with the dogs in a happy mud pit flanked by concerned faces
naming car tires in rain Another Wednesday with leading tracks
to exchange coffee tips and a quick fruit filled breakfast cup
in a generosity of pizza and Thai that flashes the busy four way
carried by desire across country like an atmospheric storm
to the intimate clatter of chopping slicing plopping and flopping
low level apartment arches to peek a bent neck dish wash
and top of the couch straight neck state of the union watch
so inches of an occupied shoulder disappear through a doorjamb
saying
freeze and long black hair
catches air
in a radical trick of time
stretched into longing
in said laundry day mundanity
bubbling a hello stuck
in adolescence
as the developing cold loosens
long black hair
said in a fall
[I YELL WITH THE SEA THE RIVER THE RAIN AGAINST SURFACES LIKE A LOVER]
I yell with the sea the river the rain against surfaces like a lover
cooing calmly across spattered concrete to nuzzle a hand
as the sun insists in the avocado field brushed with mango and papaya
an island is large at foot scale crunching crisp black lava
and even buildings want to sit and watch fronds sway awhile
before the peace of a forest trail corridor tamped with smooth bark
hope glints in a mutual street side nod though there is difference
balanced on top of a scarf and under an umbrella eyes are alive
with the power of eating strangers communicate interest in choice so
I agree like a pigeon to an ethical economic point of departure
as green trailer home paint flaps at the end of a desert wind
set for escape feeling wild for practice in the parking lot night
I take a day bike to deer passing wood gatherings for fireplace heat
saying
taste the air disturbed
by fresh cracked trees
[THE PURPOSE OF A DISTRACTED LIFE AGAINST HOW TO END IT SQUEAKS WITH SHOES]
the purpose of a distracted life against how to end it squeaks with shoes
scaling the park parking lot and freeway canyon with a view of the crematorium
business shows itself in windows getting a haircut or cashing checks
a new detail of toys arranged in branches and moss delights the day so
I am tangled again in wires hearing voices to your swift come and departure
surprised by early cherry blossoms and daffodils agreeing to color puddles
near the little free library over a queer rock fence climbed by moss
and corners where we leave worn things we no longer want like
a lamp and wreath imagined in a warm brown living room with a clock ticking
while a shirt tag wears the neck lifting a hand to wave across the street
we walk in couple to recharge in the park chorus of reaching branches
where useful algae gathers at the hilltop reservoir over an aerial house maze
reading a used Either/Or paperback on a blanket in the grass and spring sun
thinking
realistic strokes
MICHAEL RERICK lives and teaches in Portland, OR. His work recently appears or is forthcoming at Action, Spectacle, BlazeVOX, Brief Wilderness, Cola Literary Review, Ginosko Literary Journal, Indefinite Space, Marsh Hawk Review, The Main Street Mag, The Headlight Review, and Word For/Word. He is also the author of In Ways Impossible to Fold, morefrom, The Kingdom of Blizzards, The Switch Yards, and X-Ray.
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