coverts

wind kicks up feather dust

on sinewy branch tips

writing dotted story patterns

on pencil-bough perches

sheltered by gone leaves

shingling the garden

bed beneath

the window sill

with

strong hollow bones

drenched in coverts

where they hide

water kicks up mushroom clouds

of sand

when feet sweep, landing

from torpedo motions in attempted laminar flow

through salty fish water

visible with my head

submerged

and seen through

sunglass-impregnated plastic

rims tight to your face

I can’t fly out of dust

I try floating over these clouds

swimming in ground-bedded liquid

keeping the sting of water trickles

out of sight

exerting onto the day

or surviving unnoticed

Land-breathing

coughs up dust

there is still more daylight

before darkness makes endeavors hard

even so, i’m not sure I can effect much

and it’s just early morning

Your Eyes Up (you rise up) (for S.)

I see you raise again

your eyes

up, gaining vision

of the underside

of intermittent waves

thawed and under sized

recent tides

pollute, there’s crap everywhere

but this year rising

from your funk

baggage of your ice sheet burial

melted icecaps, passive float

their scrap

i see you, you rise up

like plant life

earthed and

irises, blue and

soulful windows

between seaweed

flotsam, rotting

our eyes, disarming ingénue

disowned

by passive aggressive

jealous would be heroes

disingenuous micro-aggressions

you absorb in passively veiled secrecy

a show for their eyes

shedding evil, the sour sprinkling as they rise

to step on you, stepped on a seed

but have they crushed or planted

growing you at will

exceeding in this hour

what you’re adept at seeing

try, to climb what can’t succeed

but the seed

of the blessing, essentially expressed that

had you risen from where they placed

you, the underworld

of forced depression, oppressed and made out

a certain way

character assassinated

a tempted murder of crows

we flew in with

a hope

agreed

in time

insinuated sin but just

egregiously, it didn’t please, nor did it aim to please

double cross

one for you and one for your friend

wings burdened

arise half angel,

we raised you,

after those bitches buried you

for being who you are

but you’re bruised

lying, dais

the casket door’s open, your eyes

rise sunward dazed but they’re closed

insipidly you rise apart

from the crowd, trying not to look

too flashy, but there’s

no crown if you’re in pieces

how you descend

crowded, lost

will

i see you rise again

we are here for you

it is not real

death

but I know they killed some part of you and I’m sorry

truly sorry for you.

ABOUT:

Sam Kaspar was born in Canada, and lives in the US as a retired physician & part-time writer. He enjoys rowing, hiking, tennis, amateur photography, jeeps, reading, writing, travel, Oxford commas, and especially family. He's had over 50 publications so far of his poetry & short prose, plus several scientific articles. Preferred topics include nature, existence, social justice, emotion, heritage... He’s been a finalist in writing contests from Vallum, Iron Horse, Sand Hills, Cairde Sligo Arts Festival, and others. Facebook readings: Sam Kaspar the writer @MightySamster.

EDITOR'S SONG PAIRING: Mystxrivl — Going Undxr (slow)