To buy or sell water
was a preposterous thought
and somehow time accordioned
down its own found spaces like
a lost cutworm. Fuck the cocoon,
what I would give again
for night and space
and dew.
(First published in Poetry Circle.)
Tracy Mitchell is a newly retired native Minnesotan, recently relocated to the splendor of Colorado. His free verse writing is largely inspired by the vagaries of this frail and transitory life. Fair game subject matter includes nature, ourselves, and each other. His best work has been imagined by the campfire in a clearing somewhere near sleep. He is a contributing member of Poetry Society of Colorado, MyWritersCircle, Writers Among Us, Poetry Circle, and PigPen Poetry Forum. His work has appeared in Lake Region Review, and the poetry anthology As the Kettle Wolf-Whistled.
Photograph by ep.Sos.de.
califragile.org 