Schaefer
Attentive, Sober
I sometimes am able
to stand, stare,
or confront clearly.
I can lean in to the dry
and open air.
I can rise sincerely,
like a morning
or a feeling.
I now cannot
keep a list or recall
where I put things last.
A benevolent fog
gathers and falls
obscuring future and past;
plans become softly clogged.
When can I be clean?
What will be seen?
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Oyster Mushroom
A creature unknown is afoot,
Lunar white and soft tonight.
Amidst vine and bramble
It will show its gills and gamble.
For most of them hum in pitch;
Like inner space, webbed in swamps rich.
Where it is wet, where things return,
The portal of rot from which life discerns.
Watch burns of past seasons mortals
Feed constellations both poor and royal coils.
For it is soil we’re all begotten
And our destination in being forgotten.
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Take Care
Home broth and made beds,
Watered roots and clean mirrors,
Fires stoked and bread baked
I will not bleed to live.
Agreed dates and recipe books
Batch cocktails and recycled stories,
Anticipated hellos and long goodbyes,
I will share for more.
Wiped tears and thanks you’s,
Seen labor and favors given,
Sacred people and precious time,
I will always love you.
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Land Dream
Fields casted in orange,
Skies rested in gray,
Streams hugged in white.
Winter releases the world to its owed sleep
So we dream for green again.
Let us dream for green again.
Gavin Schaefer
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