Jason Ryberg is the author of eighteen books of poetry,
six screenplays, a few short stories, a box full of folders,
notebooks and scraps of paper that could one day be
(loosely) construed as a novel, and countless
love letters, never sent. He is currently an artist-in-
residence at both The Prospero Institute of Disquieted
P/o/e/t/i/c/s and the Osage Arts Community, and is an
editor and designer at Spartan Books. His latest collection
of poems is “Fence Post Blues (River Dog Press, 2023).”
He lives part-time in Kansas City, MO with a rooster
named Little Red and a Billy-goat named Giuseppe,
and part-time somewhere in the Ozarks, near the
Gasconade River, where there are also many strange
and wonderful woodland critters.
Van Gogh Stars
Out here, the sky is
alive and swirling with Van
Gogh stars and the wind
is an orchestra of tree
frogs, cicadas, and crickets.
A Small Rabble of Sweat Bees (Sleight Redux)
It’s just a bird singing through an open window, and a
woman closing the door to a dream of a lone tree on a
hill with just a single leaf on it (the tree, I mean), and
opening another one to a bowl of peaches, apples,
nectarines and clusters of grapes, just sitting in the sun,
on a wooden table (like one of those old paintings of
some rich lord or lady’s spread, back in the day, but maybe
also featuring, there, a few fish and some game hens,
recently caught that very morning, no doubt) crawling
with what looks to be a small rabble of sweat bees.
The fruit, I mean.
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