Which Is Where We Are Now

  • Such a domesticated cat
    I twitch my tail
     narrow my eyes
     pounce
     offer as tribute my prey
    Alas, needless folly,
     milk and kibbles anyway

    Catankerous

    –––––––

    15 Aug 2009
    mead book 2
  • Those lost days
    I remember so well
    the obscene sky
    emblazoned on my eye
    driving around
    a courier in greater metropolitan area
    delivering things of importance
    things worth more than insignificant me
    worth the rapid wearing–down of my vehicle with no recompense
    and, I could not believe that such a bold sky ever existed
    how lucky must farmhands have been
    we were a nation of farmhands years ago
    and the sky so obscene and bold every god-loving day
    Fifteen years later, I trudge hours on my bike
    those precious clouds god got up early in the morning to bake
    startling contrasts and textures
    why masterpieces every day?
    as I scurry back and forth
    as mouse under hawk's eye
    Oh, God, I felt so privy to those secret havens in plain sight
    mountain majesty of wondrous delight
    thumb in the pie
    After so many unexpected enthrallments
    feeling so small
    so small

    Clouds and Sky

    –––––––

    13 Aug 2009
    unknown 2009 book
  • I see you
    beauty of my beautiful world
    a gentle desire to know you deeply
    exploring your depths.
    I lose my world in yours.
    Are you part of my world
    or I yours?

    Deep Gaze

    –––––––

    13 Jul 2009
    unknown 2009 book
  • I remember when I was a child
    Wading into the ocean
    devoured by the waves
    pulled under by the undertow
    
    I swam and swam for breath
    until the realization dawned on me
    I no longer knew which way was up
    tumbling around and around, head over heals
    
    I let go
    Stopped worrying
    entrusting fate to eventually yield back to me
    sunshine, dry breath
    
    A strange peace
    so long
    I find myself
    looming in the depths
    sea creature in a vast, uncharted kingdom

    Sea Creature

    –––––––

    9 Jul 2009
    unknown 2009 book
  • Dogs are natural scavengers
    They have the stomach for it
    I remember Beth swallowed some
    decaying squirrel whole
    Its tail hanging out of her mouth
    for the longest time
    Nothing ever became of it

    I always wondered where the deer went
    when they died
    The forest was always
    a pantheistic land of wonder
    As the snow tickled our noses
    Lexi was nowhere to be found
    I laughed it off and yelled for her
    Then yelled and yelled
    Then ran and abruptly stopped
    Lexi tenderly edging toward the deer carcass
    Shy even
    Then the bump on the bridge of her nose appeared

    A couple months later,
    in an unusual spring heat
    Lexi leaves the trail
    With a straightforward earnestness
    We walk an unfamiliar side–path
    Cross an undiscovered stream
    Another carcass prone to the sun
    A vulture crouched in an adjacent tree
    Impatient for our departure

    The bump on her head reappeared at the top
    Lexi was given two months to live
    And, at that other river,
    Her jaw too weak to grip
    the large branches so much a part of her
    This third carcass
    Peaceful, laying amid the thorns
    One does not begrudge one condemned to death
    to take their fill of death
    Not one lick of impropriety

    We filled our days with walks
    We denied ourselves none of our walks
    We partook
    Peace

    Partaking

    –––––––

    24 Jun 2009
    Lexi, lion book
  • In the dawn of humanity,
    we crowned you
    with stories of
    how meaningful you were.
    
    Grown clever and independent,
    we decried you
    with critical analysis:
    you are just a ball of hot gas.
    
    Now that I’ve seen your dark side,
    after I’ve recovered from the shock
    — neither I nor you, nor our galaxy
    are the center of the universe —
    
    Let me embrace you as in my youth.
    Let me swoon in your warmth.
    Let me re-understand the
    truth of your fairy tales.
    Let the life you created and nurtured
    reciprocate.

    Twilight

    –––––––

    29 Apr 2009
    lion book
  • It’s a pleasant night
    First one in a while
    I haven’t taken Lexi fetching
    for a while either — overworked
    So, instead of taking a right
    we take a why not
    Can’t see a moon to light our way
    but the suburb lights reflect in the pink clouds
    Park closed at dark
    Park Authority
    I’ll tell them I didn’t see
    I don’t even know if she’ll want to fetch
    She’s all sniffs
    I let her off leash —
    no running to the stream
    As we pass it by
    She shyly deviates tween
    path and brook
    Only when I go off–path
    does her tail wag
    and her feet scamper to water
    I᾿m surprised to find the stream half–frozen
    a sheet of ice spreads towards the middle
    No sticks around, so I climb onto the tree
    fallen across the stream
    and fetch one there amidst the debris
    Will she need daylight to see
    or is it some other sense?
    I throw it into the stream
    and she fetches it back
    I throw it in again; she’s taking a while
    she needs daylight, I guess
    Here comes Lexi dragging this
    mythical log
    Strange, pure, hewn branch
    from the river bottom
    Not waterlogged, just heavy in solidity
    She can’t even drag it out of the water
    just up to the shore
    and tears off half its bark in one bite
    So, over and over, mythical log
    to be dredged from the bottom
    of icy river on beautiful night
    Headlights peek at me for a while and fade
    an ambulance siren blares
    a police copter circles around
    Mocking my fears — no one cares
    Lexi scampers around the sheet of ice
    not finding the branch in the depths
    “Get it!” I cheer, and she goes in and drags it out again

    Night Fetching

    –––––––

    14 Jan 2009
    Lexi, lion book
  • We go on our walk
    Leash slung around my torso
    Stick resting on my shoulder
    Me, in boots and hat
    The master
     understander of social obligations to fellow path–takers
     barker of commands
     thrower of the stick
     gazing ahead at her
     Her happiness mine
    She, naked to the world
    The child
     wagging her tail and shyly, naïvely approaching all comers
     reluctant heeder
     joyful fetcher
     exploring the vast world of
      earthly treasures
      surrounding us

    Creative Child

    –––––––

    16 Nov 2008
    flying pigs book, Lexi
  • A hard scientific concept to explain
     light
    It knows the fastest route
     ahead of time
    and bends as it transitions,
     veers course
    joyously following some cosmic efficiency
    depending on the medium in which
     it finds itself
    I throw the stick far down the creek
     thinking to guide Lexi into a long swim
    with natural instinct she trots
     lengthwise down the watery beach
     and, in happenstance, selects
     the most efficient entrance to dive into the deep
    Then there were those long minutes she spent
     at the edge of the pool
    Determinedly awaiting the stick
     to drift to her

    Refraction

    –––––––

    10 Nov 2008
    flying pigs book, Lexi
  • I walk through a neighborhood
    I’ve lived by all my life and never have seen
    Low sun kissing autumn leaves
    the birds gaze at me overhead
    As I go from house to house: no one home
    All the political rhetoric, my own visions
    of the future, fade as the strong
    silence speaks of so many astonishingly different
    lives, congregations, bubbles of authentic existence
    I check another NH box, and my communist dreams shudder
    I'm beginning to understand this
    notion of small government, I feel
    wild individualism growing like a rash
    around me, smug and complacent
    “Good fences make good neighbors”
    smiling contentedly at me
    Government is now such a tiny fragment of these peoples’, anyone’s, life
    Me, a solicitor — a trespasser —
    wading through the peace of sunset
    And it's so sad; even for a romance, these days,
    its health requires some rugged independence
    I get home and run for my lonely, lonely life

    Canvasing

    –––––––

    18 Oct 2008
    flying pigs book
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