Super Jugo Dinámico

Ranch Dogs

I was planning on saying something, but I forgot what it was,
‘cause words wind back an’ forth, always away from me,
down the road: little cars on a dewy morning.
Deer graze past the asphalt, under a sun-punctured sky.
This is rural: unknown.
This is a Bermuda Triangle.
The words disappear and few miss them;
we are of the few that do, an’ so we call
for them to come home, lost pets.
I hope they’re wand’rin’ so it’s not a lie
to tell the children that they are.
They didn’t die ‘fore our eyes, so ‘course there’s hope,
but ranch dogs don’t run away.

the rude disappearance of a home

papaya seeds burst inside the flesh,
little fish hatching. they lay dormant,
and still. wary; afraid; of a predator
that doesn’t exist (i promise:
it doesn’t exist). arranged like teeth
in a crooked smile; why are you so
(afraid)? when will you learn you are
(what you are)? and may i ask,
my little fish-seeds: what are you?

oh! the papaya CRACKS! open

oh, how i feel your fear, little fish-seeds!
where has your humid home gone?
you had such little safety, and now,
how it’s so rudely disappeared!

who could bear to do this to you,
such lovely little creatures?

what a fearful, hungry soul they must be…