i’ve been placing mirrors in fields lately

i’ve been placing mirrors in fields lately

as the sun sets. i take a picture of the mirror,

picturing the sky, which has been framing the stars

for eons and then some.

i’ve been placing frames near rivers lately

trying to mimic the sky’s ability to be

consistent. the trees have been doing this

for eons and then some

they are just missing the top of their frames

i’ve been placing canvases on mountains

near wildflowers and honeybees

hoping that if i return in eon and then some

i will find something framed or a tree growing

through what was a canvas, what is a frame

if the wood can last that long

i’ve been placing paper on branches this winter

hoping that spring will paint flowers

or to record the sterile activity of birds

in the winter months. I found a note on

one that said I love you.

on another someone drew a leaf.

another tree missed a paper a day. i

wonder what letters, origami, or art is being made.

i’ve been placing jars of air in environments

where it has not been. I want

to see if it’s still the same air in a year.

i’ve been placing jars of pens in public places

there’s mischief and wonder when ink

is so accessible—motifs, graffiti, filthy pictures

love letters and an illegible signature by someone

who’s not prepared for death.

i’ve been placing jars of water in public places

the water changes after a week.

sometimes green. sometimes even gravel

cigarette butts and once i found flowers.

i’ve been placing jars of earth in public places.

not much changes.

(i think what this poem needs is some sublime to match the beauty. i should go back and read the criticisms on that. talk about, [maybe] the horror of not be able to touch nature, that once you touch nature it is no longer nature, thus is the nature of mankind—man’s midas touch)