Thursday, June 11, 2026

Al rededor

The little pile of turds

on the path that crowns

the mountain isn’t tended

by any flies.


Has Beelzebub called

them all to worship

at his golden toilet in

West Palm Beach?


I step carefully around it,

al rededor, “around”

a word I just learned

in my Spanish class.


Two women walking

swiftly pass me by

on the narrow trail.

They do not speak or


even seem to see me.

… poor Karen was in

the kitchen half the day

cooking for book club…


As warm as it now is,

I’ve yet to see any snakes.

Maybe they’re as wise

as Jesus said or perhaps


as peaceful as doves.

Although I hear them cry.

And crows rattling

their beaks like castanets,


the staccato tapping

of acorn woodpeckers 

like a two-finger typist

on an ancient Olivetti.


Down in the shadowed

canyon another couple

of hikers passes me by.

One says to the other:


“…she wants Stephen

cut out of every family

photo, can you believe it?

The other one says


Yes, I can because

he…well, you know

we all could see it

coming but still…wow”


A phrase I read floats up

from the silt that settles

in the bottom of the

pond that is my mind:


“I have slain them by

the words of my mouth:

and your judgments are

as the light that goes forth.”

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