After Peter Gizzi I guess this unhinged howling haboob will do. I guess our overgrown Dogpatch yard also. I guess power outages will have to do and these plastic buckets of hard water too. They’ll have to do, these blown-over garbage cans and the garbage inside, it’ll have to do. The past is always just leaving, leaving us to fates we can’t imagine. They’ll have to do. This tangle of weeds and honeysuckle too will do. That blue aluminum roof also and the corral with two horses, one called Bo.
NOTE
Welcome, new subscribers, and thank you. From time to time I will be dipping into the archive and reposting some poems you probably haven’t seen. This one first ran on March 23, 2023.
The present is all we have, so it will have to do.
“this unhinged howling haboob”: my life in four words.