Black and Red Shoe on the Road

To live by the side of a road
Closed at one end, down which no one

But a fool would point a car’s nose,
Spur down which the mail does not post,

That would be just the kind of life
This fool would like to boast. No one

To watch out for, no work to do.
Yes, it’s not worth a thing, this life.

Who asked you? What comes to pass here,
With the skunks and the deer, is weird.

There’s the day the ground groans and booms
But does not move. There’s the way wind

Fills the ears with the thought of air.
There’s the shoe shows up on the road.

I Would Like My Hat Back Now

That hill that does not
Seem to move? It seethes.
Cut or burn the trees,
And the grass will push
Back up, blade by blade.

Box it in. Move in.
Close the blinds and live
In the box—no plants,
No pets, and no kids.
That blank wall? It seethes.

Lie face down and breathe
A few deep breaths. Hold.
Feel your scared pulse race.
Close your eyes and wait.
That red dark? It seethes.

While you’re down there, think
Of a still scene. Toss
Your hat in none’s ring.
Wait. Wait. You can’t wait.
The scene fades. You seethe.