occurrence happens by reason.
Accident aligns cosmic humor
with chance. Melancholy never sees
itself a puzzle complete.
Like thistle hands chanced upon,
the unasked-for advice. Take note, wildflowers
harbor poison oak. You should know this
if you decide to walk in these parts.
Rediscovered, Your Postcard
At sea’s precipice crook
curled wave mother’s milk.
Empty chair/empty porch.
So many times I rocked on those boards
why didn’t I stay free of time’s orbit?
Late night moon flat-lined the sea. Set no watch,
the young-self looked dark straight in the face
didn’t blink didn’t care
where home was.
Time is an absence, stilling nothing
rocks no lullaby.
Love squeezed squeezed
again into a tiny parcel
your signature reverberating faintly.
—Kit Kennedy,San Francisco, CA