Honestly, I think you're fine.

But it's not OK for you to dine

on the plants I've grown.

They're mine.

Henry Street,

you sometimes wake me.

Traveling through space and time

the footsteps on the stairs are mine.

Dim fluorescent lights

and huge factory window sky

Rusted air and blue, blue haze

lead through brick industrial maze

Yellow walls sail

on darkening graphite lines.

There's something here I left behind

or is it only in my mind?

Further north along the river

echo visions make me shiver

and toss and turn.

Snowflakes in Trenton

Upon closer inspection

Appear to be white fiber

Fluff

Too early for pollen

Pollution?

__________

The spicy smell of sausage/pepperoni

Churns my stomach

Meat mixture

Fennel pepper hot red oil smell

Tangy acids

Left to cure

In a closed space.

__________

The sky darkens

Inside the train

We go from looking outwards

Through the windows

To looking inwards at ourselves

At our reflections

Against the blackening glass.

This is evening

Just past Philly

On the way to Baltimore.

________

We’ve come together

From many places

For many reasons

And will go our separate ways

But for now

We’re all together

On this train to Baltimore.

A man in an orange vest

Raises a hand held to his

Ear as the train passes.

He is alone.

The river reflects

A hint of yellow

Through the hazy sky,

Each ripple an uprising

Of the force below.

We only see the surface.

Last night I dreamed about the rabbits

The sacred sons of Mother Earth

Tucked snuggly in their hole

A womb

scratched out of earth

Swaddled in soft grasses

Safe for now

The Rabbits

Crown them with gilt halos

These mice-like children

Whose ears have yet to grow

Born to die

So we might live

To feed the hungry foxes

How Christ-like

The Rabbits

We watch each other 
Symbiotic beings working separately

Gone are the days when your song
followed me to the garden

Now we prepare for winter
You in the catalpa and me under the pine

Soon your red will flash against the white snow
And your voice ring through the naked trees.

Where once umbrellas

of white flowers

stood bobbing tall

out of long grasses, 
 

Now closed brown nests

mourn the passing

of their season,

cupping their hands

around their faces,

Stiffly crying tears

of prickly seed

that soon enough

will give birth

to new life.

Feet curled beneath me

Early morning light filters past

Bright like crystal

Through the windows

I hear only the sounds of the old refrigerator

Listening to the high hum

The low whir

I lose myself between them

http://www.chronogram.com/issue/2007/7/Poetry/Poem-I-Am-Still

I drink nettle tea knowing

It will make me strong and resilient

And unafraid to bite

the bowl of

blue sky

darkens and is pricked

by a million

pin-like stars

God is in my garden

I see it every day

Contained in all the living

And so too in the dying

Nothing goes to waste

God is clearly here

In every firm tomato

In every leaf and slug

In the flowers scented

bringing bees to taste

Radishes and cucumbers

Made from earth divine

Whisper, take of my body

for it is given

to you

And without a second thought

I do

I spend my evening canning

With vinegar and herbs

Pickling preserves

I realize in the morning

That what I chopped last night

And preserved in quart size jars

Wasn't just the bounty

It's another incarnation

I think I pickled God

I swat you

Sometimes I hit

Sometimes I miss

I watch the first squash

grow like a large

green phallus

stretching tight its shiny skin

full of beauty and contradictions

A sexually complicated

female fruit

erupting erectly

from the hermaphroditic body

of flowering stalks

and broad prickly leaves

Begging to be eaten

The kale is not a single's bar

For you to meet a mate

The radicchio is not a dinner

For you to fill your plate

There's no private party here

Underneath the big squash leaf

There's no buffet of chard

And the escarole is no place for you to seek relief

The slime you leave

Your tell-tale signs

Show me where you've been

I pick you from your favorite greens

Knowing, tomorrow we will surely meet again