it will be evening soon
a meal will be cooked
fried with ginger and lemon grass
on a black grill
the head of the jungle perch
will be given to the cat
the woman could eat the head
it is the best part
but she loves her cat
the cat consumes the fish head and tail
then goes out
to watch the stilts and avocets
delicately wade into the dusk
the woman eats the tender fire flushed meat
with roti bread
dipped in dark anchovy sauce
the bones of the fish she will plant in her garden
to nourish the soil
i am a better fisher than the cat
the woman is a better cat lover than i
when we are under the mosquito tent
that hangs over her creaky cot
i hear the fish in the lake leaping
moonlight splashes on the window
Categories:
avocets, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Next to where I work where they make electric cars
Where they used to make gasoline powered cars and trucks
near where groves and groves of orchards once grew
The small birds now nestle their young like penguins
in the Antarctic on the ground just because they are more afraid
of the polluted air than of the natural wildness that
once was.
Or maybe it was I who never took notice of their plight.
The Shore birds such as plovers, terns, avocets and sandpipers
of which I never took any time to notice much.
How I consider it so strange to just notice them now.
Almost like a Michener novel.
Blue blue like a Wallace Stegner novel, an angle of repose
some angle of least resistance that occurs when you
are trying to relive the guilt behind all the engineering
terms that built this one and holier than god
parade that built itself up to carry all of life
And the moon and the stars above.
And all with beautiful magnificent writing.
For some reason.
Peace!
Categories:
avocets, adventure,
Form: Carpe Diem