Night Lake Diving

freshly skinny white
leaping from the storm
the 2AM moonlight
fractures with the impact

the rocks below
clarified by the
glacial melt
jagged but deep enough
for divers and explorers
escaping ennui and malaise

on the shore bobbing over rocks
shook freed from constraints
the absence reveals
no barriers for the lubricious and clumsy

emerging from the cold
to stumble on the wretched shore
where bullets won’t start a fire
only tinder and a spark
is all i can stammer

Bay of Flashing Darters

Sailboats carving patterns
darters into waves which
seem unimpressed

Leaning over sideways
to control both power and time
Flocking into clusters
brushing past the buoys
like galaxies swirling
spun by translucent kite-strings

Leaving tracers to catch a gaze
the stone mason
experiment invites
me and strangers to rest awhile
only at lowtide when the waves release
a rusted boxspring fence and
gives way to me, the barnacles
and the bay of flashing darters

Mexican Hammer and Nails

anticipating buying
the claw hammer in Bucerias
i’d learned 2 Spanish words
in advance

the boy, 14-ish shaggy haired
“do you need nails?”
“no just the hammer”
learning the preferred Mexican term
entirely different and dissonant
and unnecessary to the situation
“you sold me tacks yesterday”
as though he’d care

considered like a bleeding toe
in a sandy crab pinch and attached
to the words of nails and canvas

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