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Featured Poem

Puff Balls


Puff balls in the grass   a clutch brought on by summer rain 

silently   the way lies come about and 


we have to live with them spreading under the skin of our

lives. Just one night and they've laid 


an archipelago through the softly prying dark. Tug them 

free   slice them   fry them in butter and


they're golden ingots of some mother lode   deliquescent

melting in earthly pleasure   another 


language on your tongue. They'll go on pronouncing their

selves into autumn   there in the grass


there in bitten windfalls. A premonition prescient with early

warnings   trying to be heard   their napped 


heads almost touching   precocious babies babbling in dreamless 

sleep. They're tuned to radio waves


seismic tremors   to what the stars say that is still travelling 

through the cochlea of space   their 


faint exclamations of surprise at being born. They hear us 

surfacing from sleep   making love   haunting 


silver backed mirrors of the house crowded with the dead.

Each iteration crowning through soil


ophthalmic   blind to the holy order of jackdaws landing for 

communion   spilling a billion spores.

Published in The London Magazine, 2023


Istock  Images

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