Daniel J. Flosi AT SPOON RIVER

Feast your eyes on the mouth of Spoon River meandering brackish belly bottom lip plate curve along margins of territory only man observes

This is where you meditate well lie mostly like chicken scratch under pregnant clouds thinking strange thoughts when from the split sheath of bulrush husk blooms red-winged blackbird— common migrant of sea shaped prairies Now you’re sinking you’re thinking into silt and sand through black loam then earthenware right into the riverbed Staring into fogged fisheye lens—northern pike reptilian striped a saline dry burial—then vanished again

Somewhere out there (you think) there’s a snack that mom packed and you can’t wait to see what’s inside