Imagine us
the size of ants
dancing among the
flowers and the grass,
the bugs and
the bees.

Claypan
Hideaway
Constant instars
Exiled metamorphosis
So quiet you can almost
Hear the sun go down

Valle de Las Hamacas
Vista Hermosa
Spheres of Paradiso
Seismic dewdrop points
Listening to the night
Fall with the rain

Words die little deaths,
Hopeful kamikaze runs,
Endings on windscreens.

now that autumn is here
it's hard to avoid
biting insects and pecking birds

but he finds it impossible to moan
no sooner has a wound opened up
than it's filled with sweet juice

Gnats are just a nuisance,
Mosquitoes are a threat,
Fireflies are a fleeting try
At remember instead of forget.

A thousand beetles scurry up a hill,
Above, a hundred foreign beetles wish them ill,
Their rifle sights through slits in concrete bunkers weave,
A spiderweb of fire.

Now grieve each carapace, dry and still,
As you aspire to one day k*ll
or die defending your concrete tomb upon the hill,
For your, as every, generation seeks,
Glory to the strong! Death to the weak!

The love bug
is not kept in a jar
but left to roam from afar.
The love bug
must be set free
to see if it was meant to be.

My skin crawls in your presence now.
This aversion is painfully present,
deep-seated, inexorable.
My antipathy
I feel for you is
     pushing
back.

Grinding away the
rind of my rib-cage,
I will not let the disease reach my
organs.
My fragile lungs
my tender heart.

The veil of insects and filth
lifted
upon realization that it is time for me to go.
Weaponizing insect repellent
for the pursuit of freedom.

I used to spend hours looking down
At the thousands of small critters
I used to look at the caterpillars
Checkered, bristle-covered enveloped bodies
As they roamed the soil for growth

A breeze, a storm
Enough to flood the land
The caterpillars gasped for air
Lost, alone.

But the sun struggled through
The storms calmed
And the caterpillars emerged from the water
Ready to fly,
Ready to metamorphosize.

Now I look up, up to the sky
and I finally see
Momentary beauty, splendid nonetheless:
Purple wings glistening through the wind.

That’s what I aspire to be.

In a dream,
the millipede pleads to me
for his freedom.

                                     I look the other way
                                     and as quickly as he
                                     emerged from the dirt

                                                                                 He is gone.