Poetry – Page 27 – zakschafer.com

macaroni, cheese, ice cream, and drive home

in forgetting its form, ego compares itself to lake and feels inadequate

no one sits next to you on the bus because you look too lonely

first, cold feet. then, slippers. next, socks. finally, heaven.

cat is too noisy at night so no longer sleeps inside

wait another day or two and then go

diesel truck idles while delivering home heating fuel

an entrance to an exit

sun stunned peak in a time of failure

the last minus tide of Summer’s island

a friend has beautiful feet

it is impossible to meditate on a wind howled porch

moon harvest on morning tide

i build stairs from earth and coat them in earth

in admiration of all the minds not my own

Oregon’s oldest tree

a grifter’s picnic

when taking a day off is more work than work

in the East i saw rhubarb already

maybe tree

52 Hurts; cycle 4

52 Hurts; cycle 3

52 Hurts; cycle 2

52 Hurts; cycle 1

stems are coated with fine thorns. bark grows papery as it ages.