* * *
Barred White Noise and Blue
A barred owl hoots—unseen——–heard
Dig,—–the cloak of night
An apparition—secreted on some dark bough
A noisy booger,—–audacious whoop—against constant flood of freeway hum.
Doing work,—braving a solemn cry across this
diverted watershed. LA River——–concrete cornucopia
And you sing your blue-hearted hootie-hoo
along those measured walls,———y’old torcher you.
Escondido,—-ensconced in night-shade,———–Owl,
do you see me
All I see is my face bounced off the window, lit up by a desktop monitor .
Eaves dropper,—————plumed peeper ,——regard me
A barred owl hoots its lonesome hoot,
disembodied cry,
a ping to the wide open anything of the universe———–anonymous,
a bottled message————-daring to cross an ocean of street noise.
Darting tree rats—inspire silent moments from the branch
Doing work. Concrete watershed. Cornocopiastical.
Anonymous
amorous.——Owl,
even if you could see me, would you care at all,
dig some ghost——all glowing,—-white glow silent through invisible wall,
an apparition———unheard——-seen
Eking it out,———the evening,—–always shorter than preferred,—–eh, Owl.
* * *
For God or Divinity or Something Else You Want It to Be
Gray morning,
white stork,
——–no, crane, or
——–I don’t know what it’s called.
——–This concrete ditch is a river.
——–Just ask the whatever bird,
pinned on green-yellow stilts above its own reflection.
* * *
Carl Robinette has been a freelance journalist for ten years working for numerous local newspapers in Southern California. He is a new poet debuting his work with Entropy.
featured phot by Victor Miyata from Pexels
