Peace without children, yellow field
where I dissolve, finally, into a murmur of bees.
The poppies’ sea-green pods
swell like thought-balloons in the comics,
each one empty except for an asterisk.
I’m taking this opportunity to get in touch with my roots, said the wind-thrown tree.
The aging transport ship
as the Newtonian surface of what
they still sometimes call outer space
dissolves around it.
On the next to last boxcar, in neat black letters:
NATURE WILL WIN.
Then the flashing orange light receding around the bend.
A random selection of quotes (and one paraphrase) from the “Poems & poem-like things” archive. Sometimes when the words don’t flow and writing seems impossible, it’s useful to remind myself that I have come up with a few odd and interesting lines, lord knows how.