D.W. Baker is a poet and reading teacher living in St. Petersburg, Florida with his family. His work appears in Gastropoda, Snowflake Magazine, Soft Star Magazine, Modern Haiku, and elsewhere. He reads poetry for Hearth & Coffin Literary Journal. Find him on twitter & spoutible: @lowermelody
Outer Sanctum
Stepping gently in
-to the wood
-en walls of self,
blending in
with the mass
-ive trees,
until I arrive
at the water
-fall’s mouth.
Green shapes
shade my vision
while the stream
-ing blue streaks
down my back.
I can smell the flow
-ers from years ago;
sun-drenched bone
-yard by the church,
as we lowered her
body into the ground.
With such care
-lessness as youth
I lower myself
gently into knowing
I, too, am
-ong the dirt,
will not be
there long
-ing for what
I do not
already know.
Melancholy
Mountains melting
Even after sundown
Leaves my chest –
Anchor freefall
Never landing
Cardiac arrest –
How does ocean know to
Offload energy at dusk –
Leaning tower never falling
Yet despite the rust –
The Field Guide Poetry Magazine 