Wolverine Stew: Graveyard Eclipse

I follow the path of quills and daffodils

Blue ground-facing stars and yellow suns

A spring soil night as the sky above

Turns dim, a growing grey

But a welcome one in place of

The gloom that has begun to break

And as I walk I see dozens of others

All with their glasses that turn the sun

Into a campfire crescent moon

Celebrating on every patch of grass

In the front lawns where

A cracked, plastic skeleton rests in a pile

I end up at the cemetery, fellow sky-gazers

Sitting amongst the headstones as

The trees begin to bud, robins rushing between them

Starry blue flowers sprouting beneath

As moss creeps across the polished names

And lichen-loved stones

Like faces and upturned mushrooms caps

And just in time I find a place

Where the branches part

Where I feel welcomed to sit beside the graves

Where the sounds of my eyelashes

Against the dark film that guards them

Sounds like rustling in the pinecones and dry leaves

And the chirp of birds reaches its crescendo

As that waning crescent almost gives way

Before waxing yet again

And I spend a few more moments

Planted in the grass

Before making my way out of the cemetery

I pick a direction, and on I go

Because as the sky brightens

There’s so many

White-winged moths, wolf spiders, cranes, colonies of ants

To spot along the path

And I hope to see them all

Before this day ends

Wolverine Stew: Slow Growth

The air feels cool, not cold

And I think this time

It might be here to stay

The Diag corner canopies now filled with

Reds, yellows, and pinks budding

Even as the sun hides behind

The walls of windswept clouds

As the day goes on

Rain turning to mist turning to

Fog that covers the entire street below

I still think my windowsill garden

Growing each day with

Spiral-potted sprouting succulents

Orchids in an amanita green glass vase

Mushrooms resting dormant

And chamomile seeds yet to split

Will carry on

I got a real rose from a paper garden

As my goodbye from the theatre

And until I find a vase

I improvise with plastic

And a good bit of tap water

But I think it holds up well

Because this garden is far more

Stumbling than sowing

But in the end, I still think it grows

And more often than not

I see a patch of blue in the sky

Wolverine Stew: To The Keene

Tropical shirts and impromptu strings

And a dragon to watch over it all

Plastic ivy wrapped round found/fashioned staves

Tipped with hot-glue pinecones

Dancing screams filling the aisles

Green stars shooting into my eyes

Onto the curtains behind

A place where a rubber chicken

Is a great and terrible power

Paper carefully planted in plots

And watercolor paints

As a library is carried to the seats

And very soon that paper will bloom from

Blank black floors of the stage

That rise to fill the space

When the lights go out

And when they return

The dust rises in a dozen beams

And the show begins  

Wolverine Stew: Can Someone Please Tell Me When We Get Spring?

From the field of mulch and needles

The flowers seem to glow

Icicles sprouting up to

The gray that comes and goes

Patch of frost encircled by deep blue

Still here in the cold

And I miss when I could see the

Moon like a hole punched in

Purple-paper skies  

But it doesn’t feel bad to wait

Because as the night goes on

The stars peer through like

Roots splitting through stone

And the flowers are still here

Daffodils and crocuses and

My realization I need to learn more

About the blooms I still pass by

Because one day we’re going to have a spring

And it is going to stick

But for now, I’ll just wait for

The next sneak preview

Wolverine Stew: A Couple Games of Life

If I looped a day this week it would be

The one of paper eyes, water on fire

And a wave of scattered dice

A room erupting in howling cheers

And you are part of those cheers

And the cacophony is almost as sweet

As the impromptu victory feast of three afterwards

The one of cackling sailors and bees

Mechanical smiles reflecting my own

Popcorn boxes and pinball machines

Acid-touched stone man, wall of magicians and elephants

Going together to each of the

Drums, zombies, and a card with my fortune

Root beer floats, overflowing or not

And I could get used to it all

And to the

Quiet in the sunlight afterward

As turkey tails sprout from rotting logs

And every yard begins to turn blue with flowers

Because whether it’s something old or new

I still feel at home

Wolverine Stew: Break

This is the break between winter and spring

Coal and glass and shells line the rivers

Carving their way through mountains of

Budding trees and rhododendrons

The clouds make the sun come down in rays

And along the cliff’s edge I can see

Vultures take flight alongside

A raven finding a home on thawing branches

Its call echoing through the trees

Part of the woods are scorched

Singe marks at each base of bark

And ashen earth, but beneath it

I can still see deep mossy greens

And on and on I note the

First flowers I’ve seen this year

The first web I’ve seen this year

The first deer I’ve seen this year

Wandering past swings yet to be used

The sun sets behinds wisps of orange

The sky open, free of any light below

And I know the cold will return

Before it goes away again

But for now, I take this moment

This is the break between winter and spring