Oak Park Library is currently closed and will re-open on Monday, Dec. 18 at 9 a.m.
at the end of the Earth
there is a dandelion plant
the corner of the sky rests on its bosom
our world relies on its strength
In a rare process called transdifferentiation, the turritopsis dohrnii
(known as the immortal jellyfish) can, in response to physical danger,
leap back to its first stage of life as a polyp. The born-again polyp
Are these the pangs of birth or the aftershocks of death?
What awaits me beyond this shore?
And even now when legs and feet have failed me
The sand shows trails, like serpents, of this fragility
I bleed: the gravel grinds my skin and flesh
Was it the way the leaves fell,
streamlined, as I burst
bawling onto greenery,
or the first time sunlight peeked
through dark branches overhead—
or the reddish-purple skin
stretched over my sleeping body,
surrounded by fluid? What phantom
Let the Rain Keep Falling
O birthplace rain I take what I can from
your mouth, delivering myself
from spring seeds,
wetting my tongue
with your resilience.
And you warm my skin in segments,
After Jericho Brown
Like a good fisherman, I read the water.
I can’t afford to miss a ripple in the current.
Past and future form ripples in the current,
whirling turned leaves in a merciless circle.
in orchards of lemon trees
we tiptoe, under the hanging yellow fruit
in blue moonlight, we will stay until
orange light leads us inside
Egg-yolks blooming in serenity
baba’s palms turn upwards
black dirt falling on the sun.
The fruit of baba’s hands
covered in spines
twisted but not the wicked way
that punctures skin.
Serpentine limbs extend in search of
hands to hold
You ask me If I know the way back home from here. I sing the words, “yes, dear” back to you like I’m someone else. You say “alright” because you’ve got nothing else to say right now; I respect that. I keep my eyes on the road. I’m not quite sure where you’re looking at this point
Wet hair clings to my cheeks
salty from the rain
Drops like tears slide down my nose
as the gray of the sky peers down upon me
Barefoot in the grass
for a few moments
I forget about the life I am crushing below
With my eyes closed
Even when she was young, Sonya had never been afraid of the supernatural.
I’ve never understood why people are so disgusted
by silverfish.
I like the little guys.
They way they scurry around from place to place,
they’ve always got somewhere to be,
perhaps because they don’t like where they are.
I know the feeling.
I know
that when I die
I’ll sink into the soil
Be eaten by all the things I’ve eaten
Become the dirt for all to walk upon
I know that my thoughts are just neurons firing
That my heart is a collection of molecules
that happen to beat
Drop, drop went the rain
Wet ground is so slippery
Here comes green all over