I flinch then I drift into reverie…
wing-swept and flake-wept to swooping footpaths
past a curved door’s stoop, rapt in a gashed globe
that’s descending, ascending, clutched embrace,
alarmed commuter, reconstituted
deserter, survivor of unveiling.
What can I do but hover then plunge,
lunge then stall? When you’re small, mote-sloughed, speck hid
like a splinter, dislodged, squad-shirked, slivered,
every current re-collects, returns you.
D. R. James has taught college writing, literature, and peace-making for 36 years and lives in the woods outside Saugatuck, Michigan. His most recent of nine collections are Flip Requiem (Dos Madres Press, 2020), Surreal Expulsion (The Poetry Box, 2019), and If god were gentle (Dos Madres Press, 2017), and his micro-chapbook All Her Jazz is free, fun, and printable-for-folding at the Origami Poems Project. https://www.amazon.com/author/