Hawthorne, by Michael Dickman
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From Willamette, a poetry collection, which is forthcoming from Knopf.

Vertical lift in the Oregon Sunshine
Makes for a perennial
Escape route

Black walnut trees are memory and skid

They drop green
Helicopters without pilots
Onto accessible sidewalks

A spoonbill or springtail marks a new bike path to the waterfall

A bus stop here
A bus stop there
Beauty & structure without a lot of work

Does everything have to be something else?

A garbage can waits for a do-over
Circuit breakers
Pop the truss

Little Lightbulb

I can’t answer you anymore

The difference between
A moth and a butterfly
Is traffic

Look down trees

It is early October

I walked across the green X-ray grating and couldn’t see anything at all

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