In The Summer Air

At This Rate
The Invisible Man in Cleveland
The Beekeeper of Franklin Drive
Taxidermy
Instant Wave
1943 Lullaby
Unknown Shadows
1956 Edward
Customs
Poe Echo
Summer Air
The End

At This Rate

A heron snapped legs back
to miss hitting electric wires
I stopped pouring gas to watch
this busy street corner riot
cars, plastic signs and noise
to watch this dinosaur glide
flapping over parking lot trees

I thought of time and how
that soft floating bird
was so out of place now
as odd and lost in time
as a rocking chair with wings

How do they survive?
There’s no swamp anymore
cattail quiet pools glistening
that world is gone
poured over by stores

What can a heron do?
Will it land and
become one of us
wear clothes and shop
for groceries?

I ache to think
where we’re going
at this rate




The Invisible Man in Cleveland

Grass grown around
the shape he left
when he slept
like a lawn ornament
crushed down
where he bent
days undisturbed
then walked away




The Beekeeper of
Franklin Drive

It was going to rain
on Franklin Drive
the sky continued
that familiar gray lake
coloring an old man
sighed into a chair
who shuffled bees
for solitaire




Taxidermy

If you’re waiting
for something to happen
you will join the ranks
of the animals
looking lifelike
but dead
to this world




Instant Wave

Opening
a jam jar
holding water
labeled
Instant wave




1943 Lullaby

The hurricane hit
the window at night
streetlamp diamonds
made of orange light
rain and the maple
branch shadows fight
back and forth
like Frankenstein
meets the Wolfman




Unknown Shadows

They’re all over
unknown shadows
known only
to themselves




1956 Edward

A sedan
from Ohio
slows down
when their
Map to the Stars
strikes gold

Edward G. Robinson
walks down the path
to get his newspaper
locking eyes
on the boy
looking back




Customs

I had
to claim
seven poems
at customs

Also these
sounds of birds
rain and trains
dreams I had
and memories




Poe Echo

I can’t see him
but I can hear him
off through the woods

Carved up trees
a raven calling
another answering




Summer Air

Low swallows
over a lulled field

Our daughter and son
go running to catch them

Their veer and swerve
like comedy
in the summer air




The End

At the end of the day
the flies hang on
the yellow windows




in the summer air
writing: allen frost
written during august 2005
in bellingham & ohio