Broken Mirror Reflects the Canyon Sun

Paul boards a car like a boat.

It means he hops a gap
and raises sails.

It means the wind powers
his vehicles.

Lori scatters virtues on the ground.

It means she walks
through floored pine needles.

It means there is nothing hidden
about her power.

Paul disrupts the shade.

It means his shadow glides across the court
as he soars for a slam dunk.

It means there was a mulberry tree
he once stripped of fruit.

Lori counts backward to her sixteenth birthday.

It means she put her foot down
on the gas pedal.

It means she sees the fractals
that spiral inward.

copyright © 2023 Kenneth P. Gurney

Geographic Center

As fallen leaves
collected on the ground
Lori refused
to rake them up
before man and rakes
leaves blanketed
the ground
from sea
to shining sea
then she went
on a tangent
about pine needles
in conifer forests
and no leaves
on the vast prairies
that are now corn
and wheat fields
grown in states
that line up
north to south
with Lebanon

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney


Paul lifted a baseball bat
swung it downward
and smashed a bar of soap.

He felt it betrayed him
and had to feel
the consequences
of his positive covid results.

He felt no better
for all the soap fragments
and their exploded grenade
shrapnel pattern.

Paul packed a small
cotton bag
with fresh pine needles
to remind him
of the outdoors he loved
while he convalesced.

copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney