Joshua Keiter

Similar weather
three converge along the path 
say good morning twice 

so many alarms 
ringing through the neighborhood 
nobody knows why 

the planes seem louder 
not because it is quiet 
but we can hear them

Walking to the arts 
festival under a clear 
blue September sky 

each booth was filled with 
arts unique to each other 
some artists napping 

at their stations while 
passersby observed their work 
with curious eyes 

pencil strokes blown glass
enormous photographic 
landscapes and doorways 

miniature scales
almost too much to take in
worlds upon more worlds 

we noticed also
almost directly above 
airplanes were streaking 

from our vantage point 
we could not tell if they were
taking off or landing

Fed up with the past 
harbinger of the future 
rear view is side ways 

this would always be 
catastrophic in any
normal circumstance

enough with carrots
cluttering up the airwaves
just go with the sticks

The grass must have learned 
their lesson by now—or not
they just keep growing

A year is measured
with a difference these days
how many decades 

did the last month hold
how old were we when we met
older than right now 

first when you are born
then the rest is history
as evidenced by

to the contrary
how little we remember 
of our soon past selves 

how we look forward 
through a spinning carousel
still at the center

No reason to stay 
outside all day except for 
diminished returns 

knowing that less light 
will reach our eyelids straining 
the coming season 

trees lose their luster 
perhaps never to return 
not in the same way 

as if we could know 
where we go when the leaves fall 
before their time comes

when they should be here 
sheltering us from the light
we soak in all day

No reason to stay
inside all day except for
the drear of it all 

season is ending 
before the next one begins 
constant placeholder 

standing in place of 
a direct experience 
nowhere to be seen

future is prologue
deja vu all that is left
slight variations

It makes the most sense
that young children keep in touch 
closest to the dead 

from start to finish
they know each relative to
places they had been

the same as when friends 
rejoin after months or years 
they remember when 

they saw each other 
last—and even if it feels 
it had been longer 

they know it was just
yesterday—what we awoke 
to find this morning

Suddenly autumn
side effect of disaster 
no alternatives

Neighborhood might change 
but not enough to notice 
how it used to be 

Something in the air 
leaves burning or the debris 
piled on the sidewalk 

Selves being marked safe
storms now traverse the country 
keep getting stronger 

Weather is clearing
how do we know it’s over
another forming

A flood is only
human—it just can’t wait to
get back on the stage