Darwin
Be quiet and listen
Add your regalia to the golden land
That drifting cup is God’s smile
He is at His table
He’s a deep spring
That distemper of palette
Is laundered into storm
For good reason
Find a quiet place
The fish in the brook of the mind
Bask in condesative morning
Unaware for some time
The days have begun to die
Now let the leaves die
There’s a brand new peace
We wouldn’t know from mourning
Time is long in a child’s mind
It carries weight without place
We’ve let intuition be laundered by reason
Better to weather the storms
Of exchange: the price on a pallet
Of sesame has darkened our spring
How will we lay our table?
I draw my loaded weapon and smile
And Darwin puffs out every light across the land
And all is quiet, nothing to be heard, no one to listen
Last Licks
The mantis abandons his rose-petal approach
For the surer ground of the lily pads
And soon we leave for the ballpark, its generous
Outfield. One can leave their mind entirely
There, the beer all tastes the same
The burning brush of empire runs end
To end: few rains pass but when they
Do leave in their wake a delicate
Clementine flame tearing
Our wild island sky to stone
The species is arrogant
Sure—
And no less colored by the painted wilderness
Anyway liberation is touchy and specific
A grain thick as bone colors its verse
With a wit known to spark fire
Such are the principles laundered from preference
The Carnival of Romans divined a new sort
Of fun and play
We drink their oaths with our wine
How far has that drop of rain
On that demoiselle
Divined on its passage?
A hedgehog or phoenix sent courtesy
Of the Bag Lady of Broadway
Has taken up in our parsonage:
Even this half-sliced tomato
With its pompadour stem
Is an augur of sorts
For how good paradise must taste
Down & Out Among the Candles
Allende’s ghost visited me one morning
As I walked the length of the Pacific
Past hot springs & grazing cattle
Sand dunes, old refineries,
The smoke perturbed him so much
He asked for another cigarette
Besides that, he didn’t speak
We let the vultures pick at our feet
Some days are hard days
But not with such good company
We take turns unfolding the wax
Paper cradling our sandwiches
A battered eagle flaps toward us
Bearing signage from the city
Reminding me I was thirsty
And know not but envy
I’ve never since seen a man beam
So brightly one fears the dull
Wrath of the moon as it rises
Over the ocean tipping our boats
Despite the paltry distance they all
Plop in as if they’d fallen straight
From the Hand Himself
While the solstice turned
Allende laughs & holds my hand
As the descended angels gather
Their garlands & heap toward
The shore with heavy breath
Which dies down as soon as they notice
The shiny bullets in Allende’s cuffs
They say their prayers & glower
“Beautiful day to be alive”
Anarchy loosens with their grand
Ascension from the surf
Which soaked them & made
Them so, he tells me
He goes on: the dream frame
Is bony & gold
Enough for any man
To lose
Though always there are
Songs in the air
If you know where
To bite
Allende puts down his coffee & lays
Himself alongside the Minotaur
Their republican banner soiled
To the sinews & gristle of lunch
He tucks his breast, and quick as a whip
A Mr. O digs himself out
From behind his camera to lay
Beside him a shell & severed head
Whose body he tells us hangs
In a museum on the far coast
Armless & dickless
In the classical wing
Mr. O takes a smoke & sets the aperture
Chintz night flaps unevenly
Downward toward the sea
Solemnly waiting to beach
Fine dames & mermaids
Real American songbirds
In continental blue
The winter cathedral
With its colonial balcony
Succored sweetly by onlookers
Who never dared dream
Such industrious designs would bear such fruit
A lone frigate like a crooked clock
Counting the snowflakes
As Allende wools into a spritely jig
Setting the coasts afire
-- Sam Kerbel was shortlisted for the 2024 Oxford Poetry Prize. His first chapbook, Can't Beat the Price (2025), is available from Bottlecap Press. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Anthropocene, Burningword, Libre, Eunoia Review, and the engine(idling.