A Palatable King


Dr. King examining a bullet hole in the glassdoor of his rented beach cottage

He goes down easy

made safe
for white consumption

a fierce
biting prophesy
buried in cotton

won’t threaten
our guns
won’t twist
our guts
won’t question our
greed and green
that our empire feeds

a patriotic mascot
not a prophet
who threatens our profit
or questions who profits

a King without sting
selling a brand
of Promised Land
we can stand

where they play just one song:
Can’t we all just get along?

Do we have immunity
to the Beloved Community?



Which Dr. King Shall We Honor?


Mud Green Flowing

Every week or so I harvest a few of the micropoems I wrote that week, often inspired by nature or writing prompts (such as @Microprompt and @WrittenRiver, or my own new @NaturePrompt, on Twitter).

img_2896My creek overflows
from mad rivers in the sky
on loan to the earth
for a while
everything is mud
and green
and flowing
my three favorite species

We run free
in the pine grove
among abandoned farm equipment
no time exists
only play
with frolicking raccoons
sharing secrets with
sunset bats and possum people

the trail unfolds meanderingly
for days
until something ancient awoke
in me, shouting
“I am mammal
clear & bright
made to move”

I never could
draw a dream
but that’s ok
because I have
and the space between them
holds them up
like an offering

At this hour
before he who wakes us
opens his eye on the world
nothing has yet stirred
a moment of repose
the source of the ten thousand things
crisp silence
ripe stillness
will carry me through
the doing of the day


What Do You Hear When You Listen to Lichen Grow?

img_2885In a mountain cave
under the spell
of a turbulent creek
I listen to lichen grow

Under the smell
of a winter rain
I listen to a landscape’s
green resurrection

I become soft like moss on stone
and suddenly remember that I am
a songbird
a spiderweb
a sprouting buckeye
wild and slimy like the worms
in the hill beside me
escaping the flood