the rapid thwapping

cheeping and fluffy yellow
all cute and round-billed
tucked into the a-frame in the chicken yard
where emory leads me to check out the ducklings
who hatched according to schedule
_______

the slurp slop sounds
of my bare feet
in look far soil
so wet from the recent rain
that i sink in sometimes well above my ankles
as i work my way up/down the
just mulched beds planting
the final two rows of amish paste seed tomatoes
how i have to take a break at some point
from the slip-slime mud everywhere
have to wash my hands clean
my heels
(which the mulch sticks to)
and i make some comparison to those
in the humidity of vietnamese jungles
which seems weird
but something about the non-escapability of the elements
rings true
_______
they’re designed for damp/moist climates
darien says about the japanese style wood clogs
he made and is wearing
(two vertical pieces of wood as the sole/heel
and one horizontal piece attached to those
and a piece of rope to keep the clogs on
by nestling it between toes
much like a flip flop strap)
_______
spanish tortilla javier calls it
the fluffy egg-yellow round thing
cut into squares
surprising me with its potato salad-like texture
_______
paperwrapped and ribbon-tied with grass
a darien-carved spoon (in other words:
quite perfect and an aesthetic delight to behold)
as an appreciation in exchange for the poem-to-go
about sacred slowness and the snake
_______
the rapid thwapping of huge luna moth wings
against karma kitchen window
where the light leaks out as i bring
a tucson special soup
to a boil and:
1. i wish i weren’t a human using electricity
at this moment because the thwapping sounds
panicked and painful
2. the majestic appearance of this creature
who lives only 3-7 days
(in this form)
will never cease to
give me shivers
to the point that this is one knuckle tattoo
(luna moth)
 i can totally get behind

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Filed under daily practice, poems, poetry, writing

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