silent nestbox
one chickadee didn’t fledge
I bury him in his nest

the road to Houston
firewheels and sunflowers sway
along the shoulder

the chickadee
rattles like a snake
in her nest
when I look inside
to check the nestlings

Wilderness is a circus ride; I jump
silver turnstiles and dodge my fare tonight.

Somewhere on the withered plains, coyotes
howl and cry as they leave their lairs tonight.

Lonely weather satellites trek all through
the salted skies like robot prayers tonight.

You claim constellations for forgotten
nations on dusty roads we share tonight.

Your voice, mellifluous, you whisper and
name the hurricane wind-stirred air tonight.

Come thunder and southern lightning storms you
rejoice, “Let rainfall be our heir tonight.”

—

I’ve had my students experimenting with ghazal writing. It’s been interesting, and some of them have really gotten into it. A few had trouble grasping the radif (that repeating word at the end of each couplet) and wrote some decent poems sans radif. Trying to help them figure out how to get a radif in there, I turned to Johnny Cash and suggested they try his example from “I’ve Been Everywhere”:

I’ve been everywhere, man.
I’ve crossed the deserts bare, man.
I’ve breathed the mountain air, man.
Of travel I’ve had my share, man.
I’ve been everywhere, man.

Not a ghazal really, but a ghazalish chorus at least. And so I got a few ghazals that use homie and dawg as the radif. Several of them worked quite well and would even make decent raps, which is why I think the kids who are serious about rapping really latched onto this.

Oh, and mellifluous was the word of the day. Bonus points are added to any assignment in which students use their SAT words of the day.

Dave Bonta, author of Odes to Tools and the recent Words on the Street inaction comic book, reviewed Birds Nobody Loves over at his blog Via Negativa:

This is a fun book, and light-weight enough to slip easily in a knapsack with the field guides.

I like the idea of it joining the field guides on a birding trip. The review is part of Dave’s amazing annual effort to read and review a poetry book every day during the month of April. I usually wind up buying a few of his picks each year, and this year will be no exception so it’s indeed an honor to have my book included in such fine company. Do go check out the review and be sure to read about some of the other books Dave is reading. Thanks, Dave.

butterflies weave
windblown
Indian blanket

wildflower fields
surround the jail

a chickadee clings
to the birdhouse entrance hole
nestling chorus

river of electric firelight
illuminated tracks
each tie a droning beat

glimpse of moth pulled
into light, flash of wings
a windshield smear

night moves as
any night made slow
by tons of steel in motion

a woman in white flutters
from the embankment
onto the tracks a door

closing on the night
flash of her lost eyes
and then the thump

half a mile gone
before he could react
or reach to pull the brake

a million moths
flit in spaces between
the shadowed trees

—

The other day a butterfly smashed into my windshield. Just a moment to see its beauty before impact and nothing I could do. That reminded me of a some stories I’d read a few years back about the effects on engineers of people who commit suicide by jumping in front of trains. There is nothing they can do but watch, turn away and in some cases spend years trying to forget.

leaves whisper
a cumulus plume
turns the hour

just east of Houston
laughing gulls replace vultures
in the raucous sky