15 May 2013

15 May 2013

the actual world is not an imaginary friend.
the moon in the sky is farther out than we can conceive
but we can imagine what we imagine
without end.

we can walk to the foamy line where the surf
runs up the sand and see the curve of our
mother's side - the old wine-dark sea.

and then after swimming in
rosario strait - the taste of salt on her skin -
her salt-dried hair: these mysterious traces.
i could show you a photo of the day.

still we have a heavy heart - our errors and
arrogance that cost lives - this empire of
small shovels and pails.

wind through leaves or my grandmother's
bones - the ache is real. who doesn't
dread the piercing wound - gutshot and
too strong to be found?

hunter says you walk following blood.
says eat when you can. with teeth and talons
on painted barn doors, writes free them.

10 May 2013

coyote poem

a prologue to 'coyote poem'
to be posted
at all meetings
once the photocopying
budget is approved (action item)

first allegiance
second allegiance
more coyote
third allegiance
chorale practice
fourth allegiance
fifth allegiance

(hint: coyote likes life
stuffed with

preface to the coyote poem as requested by coyote:
a past reference in
that fails
        Road Runner, the coyote's after you.
               Road Runner, if he catches you you're through.
“that song, if you call it such,”
said coyote,
one eye watching the
ticker tape,
waiting for a ship
to come in,
“wants for intelligent rhymes,
a meter that doesnt feel
like the kind of wagon an
okie would build
just to get drunk in
and crash,” said coyote.
(coyote laughing)

said, “this ditty
shows a real lack
of knowledge.”

coyote said,
“i hate this song. ugggh.
it makes me want to scream.”

coyote wears glasses that
make everything
and says
“pop music, pope music,
poop music.”

coyote likes to listen to
the nuthatches and monk
trade licks.
its also true
is sometimes so lonesome
yes, coyote cries.

coyote impersonates
smokey r.,
spins on his
heel – winks.
wags his well-groomed
coyote says, “really,
i'm sad.”

and now, coyote poem, proper

on the question of
where to dig one's den
said, “i fall
into the category of them
who say
if its draws you,
follow -
like the earth follows
the sun...”

coyote said
“dig your den
at home” and
coyote had to

after dark,
when its only
headlights and
taillights and
those bright yellow

head tilted,
tongue out
- “you sure
kill a lot of

looked over and
“your freeways are
why she dont love

“and that,” said
coyote, “ain't

coyote on edge,
looking over shoulder,
looking back, “can't you
think of something
good to say?”

coyote pissing
on the vinyl siding, cold fall
night, steam rising,
owl screeching
said, “there's enough in the
grocery store to last
me 300 years -
once you guys are
out of the

coyote's wet tongue,
licking - “wake up,
wake up -
i was only
coyote kind of worried,
kind of sorry –
cant stop laughing.
“oh brother,” coyote
said, “i didnt
really mean

coyote under the stars
asked, “who doesn't
like old cheese? - who
doesn't want
a few extra
mice in the cupboard?”

meteors shooting
from the back of
coyote's head and
coyote said,
“ssshh! these new jokes
are sleeping.”

08 May 2013


(written on a computer)

it's a dispatch from the last room that
still has air.
you do have to fear death after all.
you can say
'i've got the whole
rest of my
in the end
that is the point.

thrushes come back every year
and still
these worlds can find ways
to incinerate
just about anything -
every story worth telling contains
a narrow passage.
look at the blackened
remains of
me or you
fallen from our nest and

these are some things i doubt i'll ever learn to fix:
head gaskets and hard drives,
whole cities flattened -
the grotesque phantoms 
of infancy


neither foolish nor brave, the minutes are
lost into moments open and filled with
microscopic magnificences.
songs of despair and joy - songs of
protection that cannot
be torn - like a discrepancy in the
facts a small paw
can exploit.

climb the face
of this thing.
dangle from ropes
bolted to roosevelt's nose -
have you seen the latest reading
from the dynamo?
labratory peppers have
lifted their weight
a thousand-fold.

04 May 2013

starfish double prime

its one of these things we call day.
your eyes are open and the orange cat
is waiting on the edge of the
next room.

you almost set the world on fire and
then of course this song gets sung the
day after so much loss of
life and limb.
- the number of murders we see here and there.

takes 2 more helpings and
the next meal is on me - fake blood and
heads with the dreamed of valhalla
whistling softly past their lips and the wind
in the trees.

the eucalyptus of dresden and the lost semantics
of despair.

listen to that wave - how cleanly she breaks.

you might think that altamont
was the end of this or that thing - eagle, hawk,
swallow or bat.

wait your turn for the next round and
the next round will wait
for you in turn -