Tuesday, April 12, 2022

IN A CLAY PIG'S EYE ~

 






screeching like baby birds

in a crowded nest ~

dumplings frying







on the fourth day

I named the fly

howard







my senile father

eats the fortune cookie

and the fortune







our beautiful old love

on such thin ice

we can't even shiver







a splinter

pulled from my thumb

spit into the fire







because of my old father

my old mother has learned

to make baby food






after the storm

an apology

of soft rain







going out the door

i pass a grape that had

rolled away from breakfast







a fence between

the cemetery and the road

leans toward the road







mountains disappear in fog

and i want to go right along

with them



_____________________________


selected from ~

Ronald Baatz

In A Clay Pig's Eye

Seastone Editions, 2005