By Rodney Koeneke
The bug’s psalm: don’t get crushed.
Afterlives feel meaningless
but spring will come,
push out the nubs
the kids braid into pallets.
Take up your pallet
from lawns noon’s hardly touched.
The small think gods
just loll on clouds.
Bugs think gods just crush.
Poet Bio
More Poems about Nature
For the Feral Splendor That Remains
sometimes I strain
...
Altered After Too Many Years Under the Mask
I feel you
...
More Poems about Religion
For the Feral Splendor That Remains
sometimes I strain
...
Object Lesson
You learn to recognize beauty by its frame.
In the gilded hall, in the gilded frame, her milky neck
extended as she peers over the drawn bath. A target,
a study, a lesson: she requires you
to be beautiful. You should save her, no...