Ed Higgins
on bad days
the poem sits there like a daw
scolding the sky, other birds,
me in a winter corner of the garden
of lost language wondering
if crocus will ever seek the light
again through all this cold.
summer & restless august
night. even the moon
uncomfortably sweating
yellow cheese out of
cratered glands
while I am lying here
hoping for the slightest
breeze, even my mate
to sigh & stir the dull air.
thru the open window
dark smelling scents
from the mushroom
farm up the road
their straw and
chicken manure
compost so thick
you could grow
mushrooms
on your tongue.
Ed Higgins' poems and short fiction have appeared in Pindeldyboz, CrossConnect, Word Riot, The Hiss Quarterly, and Poems Niederngasse, among others. My wife and I live on a small farm with a menagerie of animals including an emu named To & Fro. I teach creative writing and literature at George Fox University, south of Portland, Oregon. Danse Macabre welcomes him to our pages.