The Desert Reclaims Its Silver

Weeds grow into trees

and words fail them

clouds darken and fill

the plastic swimming pools of their children

children of weeds

kids of the great horned casino in


one time back in the 80s my dad

walked up to a house here

put a finger in a missing patch

of stucco and peeled off more

as proof of our unforgivable luxury

next morning I took

two quarters from the metal tray

of a slot machine

and the security guard took them


Where There Is No Grass

there is no blade

of grass

of steel

of dandelions and blood

where there is

here is

plus one letter

and here there is

no grass

asphalt to every edge


from thrown-down bottles

catch the sun

Night On Earth

I chose a different road

for your last one

not the one through the 


placid as you're not

but the one that runs

the dying golf course

and winds back home through glass

I fear my life without these shards

that I'll forget your bite

I fear my life without a dying dog

that I'll be less alive

the lawns are turning placid and 

the cars are slowing down

who's going to keep that fucking

squirrel in his place

for all the money I'll save on dog

food, Miles

the nights will not

come cheap


The arbor is on slow collapse

the world is on its ass

and the sky is a cloudy sea

they got married under

walked past it with the dogs

the flaking paint and yelling

the flat tire begging to be new

the world is on its ass

the drip

the flood

the under


tarps stretched over the roof

in drought

catch the first drops

run with dust

© Ira Joel Haber

Andrew Baron is more or less the same collection of cells he was the last time his work appeared in Otis Nebula. He is grateful for this.

Copyright © 2016, Otis Nebula Press. All rights reserved.