No escape

CHINA softly clinks in parlor’s quiet.
FAINT fear stirs: no margin here for mind to wander.
BONEY, her grandmother’s hand rises, falls, rises, falls for tea time’s rite.
GAFFE?—one lies along this labyrinth’s every path.

Tapir herd

DELTA river branches out as tree crown where it meets the ocean.
ROTOR, holds us suspended to scan for needle, to
QUOTE the pilot from before lift-off at New Orleans: The escaped
TAPIR pair may not be found. Can they found a Delta herd?

Whitman’s Thrush

THIRD rock from the sun, zoomed in on wetlands,
SLIMY, ooze and muck richly specied.
SUNNY days, binoculars out, this kingdom might be
AVIAN: kingfishers dive, while Whitman’s thrush warbles.

Excerpt from Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d:

From Whitman's poem: "In the swamp in the secluded recesses, a shy and hidden bird is warbling a song. Solitary the thrush, The hermit withdrawn to himself, avoiding the settlements, Sings by himself a song. Song of the bleeding throat, Death's outlet song of life, (for well dear brother I know, If though wast not granted to sing thou would'st surely die.)
Excerpt from Whitman’s When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d

Low Rent Moment

MOTEL, finally! 900 miles and a terrible burger at the end to calm the
GROWL of my queasy stomach. I lie down, check the TV. A Raquel
WELCH B movie. Hours later I wake, the burger feeling like a
TUMOR in my gut and the TV blaring: low rent moment.

Inheritance

WASTE: time, soul, life ebb out on lapsarian tide.
CRAVE more! But know: to crave is to pray.
HAUNT, o God, each time, place and quark with memory of future splendor and present grace.
YOUNG and old have only you for inheritance that is not waste.