Cobalt Red Moon

I despair of midsummer—

as though this gift of sunlight & scented evening

were somehow a clear assay

voluptuous paradisiacal distraction

Art evergreen

the garden mulch

wayward wind, this floating mess

gratitude yes, necessary, vital seed!

but for what? alongside so much death urge

the rats come to the porch, everything disintegrates

tornado, flood, drowning, wealth & bombast

not to mention the cluster bombing, the targeted shot,

the cells with scheduled torture of isolation

stop

This is not poetry, not an aesthetics that births

nurturing spirit wind, cumulus humus fungus

what larger story need be tapped?

Quiet revolutions: the soaked roots of orchid

the cataract of cherry tomatoes volunteering

each distillation into essence an arc of life

epiphytes sharing carbon air

The vessel breathes the sea

a small offering of the land

green bodies under a burning sky

the long day thirsty en route

close the smell of fear

near the hope

apparent the faith

remember remember

the parable of the good Samaritan

Aid the stranger as beloved

Poem by Qayyum Johnson.

Painting by Suiko Betsy McCall.