Magic and the Mundane

R.E.M., red lentil chili and summer leaving. Lately, starry nights lead to foggy, gradient dawns tasting like earth and damp leaves. I arrange and rearrange a sunflower bouquet to remind myself that sometimes a passive aggressive response is better than no response at all. I'm trying to make others happy because that is the trick, right?

A strange resurgence of mosquitoes. Bees abound now, too. The dog is allergic to bee stings, yet she snaps her jaws and swallows the bees whole.

I can't remember the last time there was anything to say. Where does the roiling and insistence go? The remains of orchid light slides away without so much as a word. It's all connected to this body – this way of being in the world – an entanglement of magic and the mundane. Language is arbitrary. Yet I pull it all apart and bring it close in order to fashion a thing I love.

bluejays / crickets / frogs –
summer's final say
slips through
backyard
pines