Ed Brickell

Green Hummingbirds helicopter to surveilthe begonias, all that’s on offer withlantana between blooms and begoniasstretching like they’re being pulledout of the pot, often in shrivels by nowbut seasons are not themselves these days.Last of the cicadas manage a murmur,green grenades waiting for footslipto spark their death sputter, kamikaze intopeople and trees, shade revealing many greensof

Moon Over Lake Mineral Wells It’s embarrassing, really, out of all proportion to the sky it swells in,Fever dream of some early nineteenth-century landscape hack,America, savage and glorious kingdom of viral enormity –And me, had I been dabbed into their foregroundAs pioneer pastiche, staring directly at thrilled viewersWith a square-jawed, half-bored expression, my eyes sayingThis