Towhee & Sparrow

 

Towhees are sparrows. Electric eels are knifefish.

Oystercatchers could be more ambitious. We 

wade into slick tide pools trying not to crush

hermaphroditic sea hares. The Pacific never stops

eroding, never stops depositing. Seventeen ravens

eat what must have been a seal. Now those


same ravens flush and chortle. Now those same ravens

preen oiled wings. Flying foxes are bats. Mantis shrimp 

are nothing we know about. Mountain chickens

ribbit like the frogs they are. The new mole on your

right hip is a muskrat. You veer toward each

organism you fear. You veer toward our friends the killer

whales, true dolphins, misnamed and marooned.

Michael Rogner

Michael Rogner is a restoration ecologist, self-taught poet, and husband battling stage IV cancer. His work appears or is forthcoming in Willow Springs, Minnesota Review, Crab Creek Review, Barrow Street, Moon City Review, and elsewhere.

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The Strangeness of Dreams

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Homesickness as particle theory