—I kill indiscriminately // I breathe the same // & yet I can plant these copper-colored seeds saying // this is for you // mariposa // para tu Día de los Muertos you leave so many behind I think I am part of that parade poking dying earth // neck bones’ sweet ridges offered to sun // skull breaking through the sheen of work’s liqueur // el jefe Cruz observing // then shouting // oye // too deep // or too close // already the acres // in spring // a sea of milkweed // & so I jump like the young boy I am no longer una Danza de los Viejitos & continue working down the line // seed & seed // a campesino finally // once this skin is flensed to laddered bone // grin—all teeth // black sockets alive & laughing // —O mountain hectares covered in orange // the sheer volume of you now // the sheeted square footage // sound of the wings un grito de vida I keep hearing in this nightmare world // hiss— I cannot bear to say it—as if from a herbicide w/a half-life & a means of migration
Dennis Hinrichsen’s most recent book is This Is Where I Live Now I Have Nowhere Else To Go, winner of the 2020 Grid Poetry Prize, and [q / lear], a chapbook from Green Linden Press. He has new poems appearing or forthcoming in Canary, The Night Heron Barks, Map Literary, Otoliths, and Under A Warm Green Linden. He lives in Lansing, Michigan where from May 2017 – April 2019 he was the area’s first Poet Laureate.
