EARTH ~

Where the stream overflowed
the long grass
is combed close to the earth


You sing to the bird in me
I sing to the bird in you —
an effort
we love to face
each dawn









Leave me the bread
at least a few slices
leave me your voice
at least a few words
to go with the bread

Snow this morning
when I part the curtains
after getting out of bed
one rib
at a time










Finally
winter is losing its grip —
in my sleep
I hear the pond's spine
cracking

Receiver
hanging off the hook
in a phone booth
hanging off
the earth









Being an insomniac
has made me an expert
in psychological time
the sound of rain
old proverbs

I cry
we all cry
we all cry
because we all die
much like the summer fly









Orange peels —
the shadows of them
as I remember
the shadows of them
curling in childhood

I thought with age
I'd develop a hard shell —
instead I've grown feathers
that are soft and yellow and
prone to falling out









Hammered all night
by the rain —
in the morning
the bicycle is
a shiny stranger

Dogs chase pigs
pigs chase dogs —
the pussy willows
going nowhere
in ecstasy









The stars over the lake
so old and brittle looking —
I stop rowing, rest my back
and think of how soft
my ashes will be

The dog —
i wish i could be that happy
just being let in










Ronald Baatz lives and works
in New York, in the foothills of
the Catskills

Kamini Press
Sweden / Greece
www.kaminipress.com