no one wants the poems
give me the photos
no time to look at letters
on a page, and i don’t
really care anyway
about your abstract ideas
related to sound and sunlight
so forget it and paste
your iphone image
on the screen
get to it old man
the future is now
Category: Poetry
Mom Plays Evening Piano
she only played
mozart, on chickering
flat tusks, ebony
keys, her fingers
pressing sound into
air, while my
head on pillow
rested for sonata
slumber, this childhood
memory of time
gone by, as
if anything really
leaves this universe
empty spaces left
to be filled
again and again
Covid’s Harem
i chew mint gum
behind my mask at
whole foods, walk by the
organic cherries, putting
their shiny bulbs into
the cart
our eyes dart out
looking at one another, we’ve
gotten used to this
toothless, lipless existence
as if we are helplessly in
covid’s harem, all of us
unhappy wives
plucking up frozen pizzas
following aisle arrows
in the direction away
from looming sickness
that saturates everything
with its statistics and
endless news of how this
will continue unabated
but still we eat the
sweet cherries, hoping
to one day be free
In the Stream
floating on his back
my son in river
water, glistening hair touches
sunlight, azure sky, cloud
reflection, i imagine him
alive forever, held in
nature’s undulating womb
Enduring 2020
introvert, he is one
quiet with his time
passing the days like
a sleeping couch dog
not to say he
doesn’t pay attention to
it all, the unraveling
of life in this
magical year of screens
and awful virus dreams
breathing is so much
of the hours, in silence
content and aware that
maybe there really is
nothing more important
Remembering Rudolfo Anaya
curandera with her
medicinal herbs and
ability to fly
as feathered owl
into sky, bless
me ultima, chicano
spiritual soul power
https://www.latimes.com/obituaries/story/2020-06-30/rudolfo-anaya-dead
Dog Wisdom
some nights it
seems that our
dog ingrid has
it all figured
out, she understands
love and closeness
when to drink
water, and when
to sleep, she
doesn’t stay up
late on her
phone wondering about
the world, no
she lives in
minutes of joy
running, licking, waiting
for someone to
drop food on
the floor, this
has been said
before, but always
good to remember
that we are
animals too, and
it can all
be much more
simple, if we
let it be
End of Camping
one night i sat
up trying to count
tent time, evenings in
lean-tos, sleeping bags
on dew covered earth
after backpacking, hiking, driving
away from city streets
to forest trees, mountains
summer storms, coastal sunrises
and there were dozens
maybe two hundred of
these star-filled moon
skies with campfire sparked
memories of younger days
when injured vertebrae were
stronger and slumber more
easily arrived, now nearing
50, i feel the chapter’s
end coming, but a story
written in god’s nature
will always dwell within
Polo Shirt
everyone wanted that
little man swinging
a mallet on
button-down cotton
symbol of money
and conformity, belonging
to the great
american dream, success
on our chest
was everything in
yuppie popped collar
middle school hallways
of my youth
before time passing
and truth telling
consumerism, that word
of excess and
education, realization that
things are just
things
Pet Goldfish
i suppose everyone
had a goldfish
from the pet
store or school
fair, glistening orange
in plastic bag
captured bit of
rippling nature, and
we tried to
keep it alive
with flakes and
water changes, but
after a few
months it died
and what did
we learn? how
to understand loss
that toilet flush
goodbye, what is
life? what is
death? it meant
nothing, and everything
Daniel W. Polk 