Remembrance

re the mourning doves 

throwing their voices 

from somewhere close 

behind me Lorine’s 

memorable you- 

ah-you calling 

your absence obliquely. 

Anonymous Papyrus Fragment, Ancient Messene, Date Unknown but Later Than You Think

Fields we had

[        ]

[        ]

[perforated]

[ now?]

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

[shredded wheat]

Ely[sian?] with honey

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

[        ]

Bees combing long

[        ] [flaxen?]       

Hair [       ]

[         ]

[         ]

[         ]

[down?]

To your knees      

[the rest wholly eaten away by moths]

Hammock

I don’t know 

If it’s the night 

Wind that sways 

Me or the pines— 

Either way, 

I don’t care. 

Squeeze Play at the Bottom of the Ninth

Oh Doc if only 

I had the strength to show 

The uniformly moved 

There’s not enough power left 

In these sinews 

To delight them, 

Would they settle 

For my laying down 

A perfect bunt? 

Wild Cyclamen Mode

Heads up though 

Seeing such impossible 

Flowers spring up everywhere 

May not always tend 

To elate one 

Let alone 

Make one feel as they say 

In the pink but oh 

Such mixed blessings 

Should they not 

Then give one pause 

To think?