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Poetry by Pete Lee
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ARTS AND SCIENCES

Pete Lee

 

700,000,000,000

x186,000

x60x60x24x365

=how many

miles away

the farthest

thing we've

ever found

is from us,

it's said -- but

do they go

by miles on

that end?

maybe it's half

a squark or

two scrunches

to them -- like the

drive between

hollywood and

west hollywood --

or as far as the

nearest cine-

plex, where

math can't

move the pop-

corn, only the

stars can.

 

 

CLAWS

Pete Lee

 

The light's gone weird

at midday, in midsummer:

 

those green pomegranates

might have been painted

 

on the branch that bends

to set down the wine-

 

red ones, concerned mother

captured in stop-action;

 

a single leaf scuttles

across the grass, yellow

 

crab on a green beach;

an elm has shot straight up

 

from the ground and burst

into a display of leaves...

 

Autumn must be calling:

long-distance to be sure

 

but as sure as gravity,

will brown and bring down

 

to a gone-brown beach

a murder of crabs fleeing

 

the wind, seeking safety

in each other's claws.

 

 

CLOSET

Pete Lee

 

Summer clothes

toward the left,

winter clothes

toward the right:

the hanger heads

are tick marks

on a graph.

Autumn appears

uneventful.

We shall sweat

or freeze.

 

 

LORD OF THE NUTS

Pete Lee

 

To observe nature is to

learn about humankind,

 

and vice versa: I feed

the local chickadees

 

peanuts from my hand

on the porch of the cabin

 

and incite a near-riot,

igniting a cacophony

 

of bickering in an over-

hanging pine branch. One

 

by one, they make

the brief pilgrimage

 

to perch on my finger,

pluck a nut, then fly.

 

Then one unusually

large chickadee appears

 

in my palm, straddling

the little pile, a peanut

 

already in its beak:

chirps, drops the nut,

 

picks it back up, chirps

again, drops it again,

 

picks it back up...and

carries on this way

 

until the rest concede

that it's Lord of the Nuts.

 

But I adore this one also,

too much to move my hand.

 

 

PROCESSING THE MAIL

Pete Lee

 

The joker from

Tecopa answers

the race question,

"Other: Human"

 

and I laugh

days later,

inputting his

application,

 

wondering who this

joker thinks he is

as I hit 6

for "Race Unknown."

 

 

Pete Lee lives with his wife in Ridgecrest, California, where he works as an independent bookseller. His poetry has most recently appeared in the online journals Antithesis Common, The 13th Warrior Review, Alba, The Country Mouse, Shampoo, and The Rose & Thorn.

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