“IMG 4736 (No Views)” / “IMG 6077 (No Views)” by Mike Urquidez
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facing us there is just about nothing, and so the northside —
transmission severed. tilt upward. the most natural
movement. to glimpse first the moss. the needles. the dead
branches snapped and dropped by a recent fleeing storm. the
mega trunks. every other slit with precision. preside as if
over stink beetles in situ. let the sun like a wide paintbrush
run forehead to throat. pupils shrivel along the way. nobody
tilts their head down on purpose without some impending
sense of calamity. however small. remember every
inevitable collision on grooved freeway cement. a headlight.
a hood adornment. a sliver of someone’s eye in great dry
detail in the mirror. the chin tucks itself. a turtle instinct. we
must have been taught at some point to walk from the ocean
while looking up. trying to avoid the terns waiting to scoop
us. the incomplete creatures. they kept coming anyway. it is
blind relief that this northern trail still leads us somewhere.
a miracle we can move along.
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only by gorging
do mealworms
turn to beetles
— satin chitin exo —
after reaching
a point in which
simply being larvae
is not enough
shelter comes at the point
of an evolutionary gun
but how does carpet padding
yellow blue green swirl
gain focus with all
other sustenance thwarted?
do we move like endless shoelaces?
underlapping, overlapping
blast our bodies with
all ingestible nitrogen
from beneath a hallway
where walls once contained
vibrations resonating
deep within the thorax
a rattlesnake shaker
is held together
by one piece
growing smaller
than the next
growing smaller
than the next
to a point
the song of effective outcomes
Photo Credit: Staff