Two Poems

by Richard Dinges


Palm-sized spiders
and colonies of ants
thrive in wood piles.
When I decompose
this stack, spiders
tip-toe aside, ants
scatter, white eggs
held delicately
between pincers.
I do not discover
the meaning of life,
I only disrupt
their lives, my aim
to create a source
of warmth through
winter yet to come.


Water a mirror,
shoreline a frame,
cupped in a hill’s
slow rise into
negative space,
reflects a universe
blocked by clouds,
dust, smoke, contrails,
scar’s across a face
with no smile,
no eyes, a long
dark blank stare
pierced by stars
and our eternal
desire to grasp
what lies on the other
side, pull it down
and swim with us.

Richard Dinges has an MA in literary studies from University of Iowa, and  manage sinformation security risk at an insurance company.  Bitchin’ Kitsch, Westview, Willow Review, Slant, and Miller’s Pond most recently accepted his poems for publications.

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