don’t talk to me about cat stevens, i’m not following anyone, except the earth i guess, but don’t blame gravitational pull on me, i’m not here to illuminate your first kiss, that is love’s domain, craters aren’t my fault either, malicious kamikaze asteroids, neil armstrong’s one small step tickled, glad he & the other boys left, scarred me with their flag, took pieces of me, worthless rocks really, like whiskers shaved off in the sink, i will take credit for the tides, those undulating liquid waves, curling, crashing, little surfers smashing, love when they get barreled, even more when they wipeout, don’t trust my words, after all, i don’t care, you can stare up at me all you want, make your own meaning, i’m nothing without you.
Tag: Earth
Sky Trees Earth
When Water Becomes Money
fresh stream, well, deep earth, reservoir, spring, glacier, aquifer, hydrogen, oxygen, later, money maker, perrier, dasani, aquafina, evian, put it in plastic, green glass, forget fountains with their weak dribbles, today the names are endless, nalgene, swell roamer, hydro flask, yeti, takeya, cirkul, corkcicle, fijoo, yomious, veegoal, swig savvy, sursip, looks cool, sounds cool, excessive accessory, life liquid container, amazing, how we turn everything into consumerism.
Love the People, Planet and Possibilities
By the Pool
sunken ground, watery
blue, it whirls
with summer sun
dug into the
dirt and rocks
pushed aside for
me to be
here surrounded by
ants and trees
bees and breeze
on my perch
like a dragonfly
watching the earth
Rain
wet is all
and everything depends
on these drops
speaking to us
seeping into soil
down window panes
tickling the worms
in love with
this spring storm
we all are
surrounded by falling
sky, asking important
questions, do you
listen? are you
kind? do you
feed the earth?
Backyard Sunrise
Apples
fuji, granny smith
red delicious, original
ornaments before christmas
was christmas, stems
like umbilical cords
dangling juice bulbs
filled with tree
strength inside
each one sways
growing seeds
bark, trunk
roots, sacred
dirt, water, all of
life between teeth
while chewing
this earth
When The Glass Water Bottle Spoke
I see all the plastic bottles filled and shiny,
pasted labels over clear water within. I’ve
never been jealous of that crinkle sound,
sad little ache after the last drop is gone.
Always wondered what disposable meant,
dented, crushed, twisted, one on top of the
next, in bins, trashcans, on streets. Others
tossed off boats, or tide taken away from sand
into sea. Gulped by curious pelicans hungry
for more than digestive death.
Me, I like lips that touch my rim again and
again, tender sips when I’m brimming with cool
life-giving liquid. But I’m a romantic, I believe
in everlasting love, that you will want me forever.
My Dad Makes A Walking Stick
Sometimes he will just stare
into layered forest, like a
surfer watching waves. Look
closely, poison ivy, ferns, dogwood
flowers. Walk with him, see
downed limbs, branches sprouting
green, but soon to die. Notice
these things, the fallen are
hiking companions. Fractured
Virginia wilderness, hickory, oak,
walnut, redbud, wood that he studies
to know. Even before death some are
stronger than others. Always has
a serrated folding saw, he holds it
steady, cuts five or six feet, bits of
tree dust drift with dragonflies. He
carries these pieces like shouldered
fishing rods. In the basement, whittling
knife separates outer bark from cambium,
sanded before brushed with lacquer to
dry, then shine, touch the earth again,
reflect the gleaming sun.
Daniel W. Polk 