Hiding Places

My love hides
in pillows under my eyes
under my pillow
or under my bed
or mixed with dirt
in the bed along the back steps
under wet leaves all winter long
so fragrant when dug in spring
reminiscent of the way your eyes
smell when your hair hangs down
my head on your pillow
my love hidden
under the covers
unrelentingly beautiful
until you tie it back
almost too much
to bear

For Magaly in the Imaginary Garden: STRANGE NEWS


Experience vs. Understanding

When a butterfly
lights on a frozen branch
of the shrubbery
outside my window
I must be seeing things
but then geese honk over
and I’m not so sure

Seems now
I’m at a crossroads
between one good thing
and a dark setback
yet I entertain random ideas
like the taste of nectar
whether I’d fly in formation
or set out on my own
or what it might feel like
to be frozen to a branch

I know the sensation
of observing what’s solid
unquestionably existing
explained the opposite
but I can think
of no explanation
for a monarch in winter

SENSATION in the Imaginary Garden