D. W. Baker

Proverbs 2:22

I learned to reserve the
use of words like wicked
for acts of knowing will–

Like maps, I used to be
drawn by hand. Then I cut
the ego's blindfold off

and learned to read from
trees: rings see not the
intent—only marked land.

[ringed death]

“Death is a Dialogue between / the Spirit and the Dust”
–Emily Dickinson

ringed      death
tree               is

layering          a
slow    dialogue

in        between
-exorable     the

marked     spirit
me              and

-mory           the
falling        dust

There Was a Forest

calling softly
mockingbirds
echoes haunt me
without words
fallen species
etched in song
family stories
don’t belong
ancient landscapes
modern crimes
tension headaches
stay inside
parts per million
chartbreak rise

D.W. Baker is a submerging poet from St. Petersburg, Florida, where he write about place, bodies, belonging, and the end of the world. His work appears in Identity Theory, Sundog Lit, Voidspace Zine, and Queerlings, among others, and has been nominated for Best of the Net. He reads for several journals, including Variant Lit and Libre. See more of his work at www.dwbakerpoetry.com