Author: Nick

Percy’s Stretch

Should you have the joy of being
Around ducks in the morning or evening,
You've surely seen the way they stretch—
One leg extending backward
As the matching wing fans out.

I must have spent several scores
Of sunsets and twilights and even a dozen
Daybreaks squatting beside these birds,
But only once have I seen a stretch 
The way that Percy pulled it off.

He balanced on a single leg
And started splaying feathers out;
As I sat behind him on his left,
He seemed to point each feather at me.
Perfectly propped like a tiny scarecrow,
I didn't notice it at first.

Beginning to kick a leg out,
As if by legerdemain, from his right
The little extremity extended!
He paused: the ambiguous spinning dancer;
And stretched his toes like a black canvas.

He flared his midnight wing once more,
Kicked his foot its entire length;
Then he set it back on the clay 
And gave a little shake, ruffling
His iridescent feathers up,
Looking like a brass pinecone 
With subtle green and purple patina.

It seems so rare to me; indeed
I've never seen it before or since.
Percy then settled back down
To gaze at the sinusoidal pond.
Franklin was laid beside him, and Norm
And, further off in a shadow, George
Slumbered on the shore nearby.

I was squatting down on my haunches,
And my knees were beginning to ache.
We decided to let them sleep.
I stood up and stretched my own legs but
Not nearly as spectacularly
As Percy, the little black duck
With a dickie of white breast feathers.

Parting is always sorrow

Parting is always sorrow,
Fear of uncertainty,
Discontinuity.

These ducks that have made their home
Here are the most beautiful 
And precious creatures I've known.

I've depended on
These days we've shared together;
Who says it has to end?

The fears I have for the future.
Granite's adventuring,
I believe he'll return like George.

Even so, Cory 
Misses him. As do I.
Will they miss us?

Nothing ties them down,
Inspiring as it is frightening.
We're united by chance.

How could we let them know
We're leaving but will return
To visit them forever?

What compact could be made
To tie our souls to this place,
Returning after time?

I think I'll be visiting
More than twice a week.
Easing into absence.

I can't bear the idea
They might feel they've lost us
Or grieve the lack of us.

Will they start to think,
"Did they move on;"
Well, won't we have?

We've both lived in so
Many different places,
Why not animals too?

Darling Granite, we miss you.
We miss your happy laughter.
We miss your squinching eyes.

I do believe you're safe
And probably not far,
Likely with Patch or Millay.

We've become accustomed
To your familiar smile
And gentle friendliness.

You've been here the longest
Of all the ducks we know.
Your presence is joy's communion.

Always and forever
We will search for your profile
On the grass lounging serenely.

You will always be
Cherished and remembered,
You and all of our friends.

Our hearts have expanded domains
Grown from Granite; from Marble;
From milky-eyed Mama;

From Armor and from Helmet;
From the fly-by-night girls;
And from poor little Miracle.

I swoon for animals;
They understand hello,
But never know goodbye.

I think of Lefty the mallard:
Against all odds, born
With a malformed wing, he thrives.

Lefty and all our friends
Who make this place their home,
Aren't we of them too?

This place, this time, this pond
Has found us all together
In our liberty-laden lives.

I think of Franklin and Percy,
Loyalty and Norm,
Steve and Zebra and Mama;

Helmet, George, and Edgar,
All of whom had left
And yet returned again.

This is what we have chosen.
We all may come and go,
That's how I know it's love.

I know that we'll come back,
And so I do believe
Granite will too.

***

Just yesterday Millay
Came swooping down to greet us.
We instantly knew each other.

The little outline of white
Around her beady eyes;
How she ran to us;

Her single tiny squeak 
As she jumped onto the grass
All confirmed it was she.

She said hello then flew off.
I'd bet she's seen Granite.

Fragments 2

Wasn't great today
But what is there to do,
Lay down ready to die?
Leave it like days do too.

***

Playing up the sham,
You know it's such a shame;
They'll make your name shimmer,
But only when shown tame.

***

Living through changes 
But we remain unchanged
In love, for the danger 
Lies in growing estranged.

Last Walk of the Night

The frogs are echoing from God
Knows where; the new moon is
Here to be missed, and it has rained.
The sky is blank overhead.

It's a navy blue hour,
Lit more by the apartments'
Lamps than anything above
Us and the twinkling blades of grass.

The glittering water is almost asleep,
Softly shifting; planes above
Hum toward TPA,
The city a milky way below.

We stroll the pre-dewed lawns,
One last visit for the night.
On the grass not far from the path 
Are groups of little dark spots.

Each one of those tiny shadows
Is a precious friend nestling
Back their sleeping, carbuncled faces, 
Resting the white curves of their eyelids.

Reflections on how I got here

"Beware this reckoning,"
Glares a spectral pair of eyes.
Blood quickens in frozen veins,
Stricken as though paralyzed.

Leering back from inside 
The mirror, a crack which grows
The distance facts drift at one's
Insistence; then slackens, slows.

And crawling over shards,
Wounds are all to show for wants
Slicing black weals of static
Lack of any real response.

The daunting pain of silence
Spawning deranged interviews—
A prison with no orders,
Visions thrown to trinkets' truths.

Worst is when it's within 
The first sentence of doom speaks.
Overpowered by black bile,
Loathing and foul wrath it wreaks.

The dreadful sensation
In the head made manifest:
Seizing trips that mark the sick,
Squeezing grip of panic's press.

Heaviness dimly drapes
Every limb, as though submerged 
In water's lips; every move
Murmurs, stripped like a soul scourged.

Beneath this awful weight,
Seething, clawing to maintain;
While fearful of this deep hole,
Here the soul can greatly gain.

It's a cage, and no skill
Engaged will, it confounded
Me; but blessed with room to pace,
They dressed patience around me.

Basically life support
Is the grace the dice produced
To hand me a family
Withstanding my sorrow's sluice.

To think they looked at hell
Without blinking, it took more;
More than courage, more than faith,
The surge of strength love looks for.

Looming death, fate diseased;
Assuming the weight of both,
How they faced it despite dread.
They allowed my glacial growth.

They paid for my prices 
As I laid, a dying mind,
Withered body torched in hate—
Delivered by a fortune's find.

They believed in a time
When even I am able,
Condoning this path to shed
Loneliness's black label.

It was pure chance to meet 
Him, to endure and advance
Past privation and piss-drunk
Starvation's soul sunken stance.

My family props the sky
Up while hammers drop on nails;
And my head has turned up for him,
Ready to earn grace's grails.

Am I a wretch reborn
By a lucky catch? Of course;
Without either my life's in
Doubt, but strife still stalks its source.

His presence builds me up
A pleasant hill to defend,
But misaligned spheres can soon
Find my spirit brought to bend.

We've grown this better sense,
Sown medicines, worked what found
Subsistence, a miracle
System sheer as sculpted sound.

Our one-room made of smoke,
Blunt and bespoke, fleeting home;
In a flash what saves me could
Crash like waves of frothing foam.

I cannot guard, protect,
By forethought or by power,
Against illness, accident,
Killing events' furled flower.

There's much I can't make kneel,
A touch could steal all I care
About. My dear, meekly tread
And scout ahead. Best beware!

Talking with Muscovies

Muscovies are delightful companions.
When I approach they hum and purr 
And vibrate like little engines 
Cooling, then settling down.

When my muscovies are enthused,
(They're not my muscovies,
But I'm their person,)
They pant aloud as if laughing.

Norm is a conversationalist;
He'll announce himself even when hidden.
George and Percy sneeze their greetings
Softly, while father Franklin snorts hello.

Steve and his girl, Zebra, are quiet,
But he'll nod and puff, she'll sweetly coo.
Brothers Edgar and Loyalty
Hype each other up with chants.

Patch squeaks and Mama gently trills,
As do Millay and nested Helmet;
And when he's surrounded by friends,
Granite erupts in exuberant laughter.

Norm gets me a little wet

Norm gets me a little wet
Leaping up from his swim in the pond.
Huffing and panting, he greets me
On the carpet of grass and clover.

He was born to swim.
Every day I see him out there
Bathing, diving; I watch and wave,
Arrested by his beauty.

His downy, feathery breast and head,
Trickling water as he fluffs his crest,
Gleams; shaking off the excess drops,
He beats his wings so close to me.

His red leather mask rings 
Around his eyes' amber irises;
They catch the sun when he tilts his head,
As do his iridescent wings.

A single thought, bacterium-sized,
But then pride: he's so comfortable
With me; and thankfulness: he rests
In the bush beneath my window.

I’m going to sleep

I'm going to sleep—
Every day takes this slope
While we're here. Look! the poles:
Even the stars list hope.

What does a dream hold?
Often therein dread looms,
And what we feel hard melds
With soft inside lead rooms.

What can a dream give?
A background where dooms verge
Upon something more vague
When thought and void merge.

What it takes to wake 
Up: no more than to walk
One step further, to work
For the space/time we talk.

You

You may not think highly 
Of your lot, but blink away
The tears of now. Look ahead,
Peer into how struggle strays.

Turn forward to a new
Force that can burn through a phase,
Work and time to find you've found
The circle you'd roundly raise.

Open your mind, even 
to slopes and blind, snaking slants.
Emphatic mood resonance:
The attitude makes the man.

There are some, very few,
Who are coming. Share your hand
Fearlessly and even-willed;
They'll appear, you'll build the band.

Someday a collective
Will plumb technics you design.
You shall aid their creation,
Trade views from your mended mind.

So for now, don't dismay;
Don't throw down your efforts through
This blue weave of depression.
I do believe. Yes, that's you.