Kill it with Fire

Busted window whistling down the road wind wiggling in your beard.

June bug split on impact only a head and legs kicking on your neck.

The lengths those things go to die. Very impressive. Yet the species lives.

Fuel for nightmare movie legless corpses clawing themselves toward your brains.

So ugly, even when whole, you wouldn’t want to touch one but harmless.

Yet, you shiver as you flick this one off your neck and into the wind.

September Poem 30: Ghazal In the Southern Summer Sun

Memories of earlier days running through the grass watching the hoppers flee

Your trundling steps. When did they all go missing in the southern summer sun?


The ants working hidden in the fields, the tall grass as their hunting

Grounds. Biting, stinging, and killing in the southern summer sun.


Their hills of red clay stand out against the browning green of the grass warning

Like a stop sign the dangers out hiding in the southern summer sun.


Their smell slightly spicy as they make their way up your shoe and into

Your socks. As you were caught unsuspecting in the southern summer sun.


The prick around your ankle could have been a burr. But another up your leg and

Then the burning and itching. Again, you are running in the southern summer sun.