I Ching, Hexagram 30

 

‘radiance,’ flush

with anticipation I allow

agoraphobia to fade, flutter

fall into daydreams

 

quail run through underbrush

towhees kick litter and duff

flickers pound the chimney pipe

owls perch at the roof’s edge

ash-throated flycatchers, alight

lit

on

[sound of wind & hand gesture of wings flapping]

 

dry desert air floods mid-afternoons

pinyon, juniper, ponderosa pine

the mineral taste of granite

sunset glow beyond Iron Springs

a slow climb around 

Two Rock Mountain

later a dry wind fills the canyon

clouds rise above the Verde Valley

look but don’t touch

 

here, now

hurricanes, alligators, osprey

littered Clearwater beaches

eighty-nine degree Fahrenheit Gulf waters

thick humidity, rotted trees

fungus the daily penultimate chapter

touch but don’t look

[RK, 8/18/2020]

I Ching, Hexagram 15

 

‘humbling’ or ‘modesty,’

waiting tossing flipping out

of the bed wide awake

imagining insects still under fallen

leaves, wondering if they sleep

or just wait out the morning

with dull millennial arthropod

complacency, wondering if they think

‘what if’ or ‘why did I’ or ‘I will, I won’t’

 

hear them in the morning, they

scuttle, slither, and slink

into the solar oven of retribution

wondering

if their limbs, antennae, or wings burn

if their pheromones penetrate walls

if they count minutes and seconds

the way I count years and days

[RK, 8/17/2020]

Baggage

 

grass and weeds ripped up

dirt, sand, and well composted kitchen scraps

spaded,

a miniscule one hundred twenty square feet

of future kale, mustard, and chard

worm-less, anole-full, black and gray

trying uselessly to allocate finite energy

to turn the earth left-handed

pour sweat, haul in breaths

lean against a half-way point

consider stopping

stop not

stop watch

waiting, anticipating leveling rain

organic nutrients, grains, greens,

hot shower, cold tea

another afternoon on life’s downslope

added to a neatly tied bundle, bundle

added to one of many mental attic steamer trunks

with already faded, unreadable labels

[RK, 8/15/2020]

Battery

what fades is forgotten

morning's bed, soft

as April in August

energy centers found wanting

wasteful and powerless

how do I plug in a psychic charger

how do I obtain the correct

voltage, amperage, current flow

asking of the invested time

is there a recording I click, copy, and paste

play back or review at will?

[RK, 8/9/2020]

Approaching

a Red Southern Oak acorn

flattened saucer-like cup

the single item I bring back

from my first walk on the

Appalachian Trail above Sam's Gap

North Carolina

we hike to variable elevations

cross over, just, into Tennessee

lookouts, scenic hills, breezes,

barely-there rain sprinkles

blackberries, unknown illustrious flowers

elusive fungus, rotted trees, ponds in hollows

a dead three-inch-long baby mole

intact

[RK, 8/9/2020]

What I Remembered

effervescent yellow, orange, and red fungus

everywhere

a Smoky Mountain trail

lichens, mushrooms

saprophytic ghost flowers

fur-packed black scat

pinnate sycamore leaves

spongy duff, a brick red newt

friable fallen branches alphabet the understory

[RK, 8/9/2020] 

Vanishing Act

firefly, singular

horse hoofbeats in darkness

moon illuminated bush beans

peach trees, wild white mushrooms

at the edge of a disappearing

gravel road

[RK, 8/9/2020]