By Matthew Caretti
Pago Pago, American Samoa
what mud daubers do organ prelude
We’ve been around a long time. A mother’s day ever since Australopithecus Africanus. Things haven’t gone all that smoothly, though. These days we spend our time critical race theorizing empathy. Realize it’s more than a single letter from refuge to refugee.
morning prayer a lone canary out of the mine
Wildfire embers rise with Mars. Too much pleasure urges more pain. Our brains built for it. Type 3 fun house mirrors bend bones and time. Some circadian rhythm of our sleepless poems. Mental health creeps out of the rainforest. A plot of cannabis a panacea.
a slow drag in this line butterfly effect
With aching backs we wonder where to put it down. Not there by the murder hornet’s nest, soon to be a threnody of torch and fire. We look farther. Just passing through the looking glass. Does it have to be so literal? Then digitally remastered. Is that a hi-fi sigh in the cellist’s final note?
wireless fidelity sound of a muted room