Poetry

winter’s empty basket

science is solvent a procrastinated miracle because I hold the truth in my arms skin sewn to five trees even stretching the ellipse is hills inside not elasticity nor pain or even me clearing the way the ellipse holds its destiny

A 6 Step Dance

beginning with rain lost on quiet owl wings a stirring

who has hidden lightning? where did they put Brother? behind the mountains under the stairs oh yes in the clouds alchemy clutched to nature’s pelvis

who is? what is?

frozen eclipsed by yellow sparrows falling laughter crickets of a new morning

tableau ringing hammers call forth the rivers

give you form which shapes life placed in darkness unaware of the deepest stirring on the verge jump despair is our spark

Third Position of Orion

a blushing rock calls me

the ghost or soul of me

she urges me to find a place nestled among the opossum roots clear river lavishes through stone canyons a Styrofoam cup and plastic wrapper drift in current jaw of cypress along the bank feed fat catfish vermilion and phosphorescent bugs

ferns grip raindrop crevice my soul planted to these rocks as it has been

—Trey Moore

Trey Moore grew up in San Antonio. He has lived in New Braunfels and recently spent time writing in Arizona. He has been working toward a master’s degree while employed as a full-time carpenter. He also writes succinct, original letters. Thanks, friend. In the humble world of poetry, we empower one another.

–Naomi Shihab Nye