Five Poems, Untitled
I would
sweep out the leaves
but for a frog
still lonesome in
the potted plants
•
what matters now?
a violet-green swallow
the pine siskin
and three mountain bluebirds
•
North Venice Beach
(and I'm from Ohio)
a frail young woman of
stones and crystals
sells me three jade frogs
•
only the creek's watery syllables
only the stars
over the Kettle River Range
but no name
•
we try to go
without
notice
invisible
like bitterns
within
the Bitterroot's river reeds
hiding out
with Kusano's frogs
