The Big Limb

The Big Limb
Fell from the pecan tree
It landed head-down,

The snapped end up in the air.

It took with it the pole-top birdhouse
For "purple martins," or somesuch
A bird which is, apparently,
Renowned for its mosquito-eating penchant.

But now the birdhouse is sitting,
Propped against my deck,
Old and empty and bent.

Rock

That rock in the yard could be from space
What with its pocked & cratered surface
Ejected from a dying star to careen like a jilted kid

Behind the wheel of his father's Buick
Through space, or streets,
Through rings of planets & tails of comets
Through stops signs and crosswalks
Defying solar winds & the lure of pulling orbits & record shops
To find her at some dark, shitty club
Where his knuckles tighten,
Honed into ballistic purity by the burnt and burning atmosphere
A meteorite to the face of the boy she's with
And this rock now sits,
Done with screaming through the Cosmos.