Landlocked
Midsummer. The sky’s again contused
and cloudless, still dizzy with mirages
heaving on patches of surviving grass,
on scattered heaps of backyard crates,
on the rust-gnawed remains of a Firebird
I dig through. I exhume and lift a carburetor
to my ear, shake it softly like a seashell,
and hear unexpected waves crackling
against themselves.… Read the rest