In one of
my many
lifetimes, when
I was a child,
my dad had a
sprawling stretch
of land in
Missouri.
He had 200
head of cattle.
We used to run
the cows we
bought at auction
through this
shoot with wooden
beams that closed
on their necks.
My stepmom took
this gun-like object
and put an orange
tag in their ear.

My brother and I used
to play with this black and
white steer.
We called him old #56
because of the number on
his tag.
We chased him, and then he
chased us.
I felt bad for
him, the tag in
his ear.
I talked to my
dad about it.
He said if the steer
ever got lost,
we could find him.
I felt good about that.
I didn't want to lose him.

One night
the following summer,
we were sitting down for
dinner.
I hadn't seen
old #56 for a while.
I asked Dad where
he was.
He didn't say anything.
We were having
t-bone steaks.

As I write this,
my black and white
kitten, Bukowski,
bites at the pen and
tries to wrestle my
wrist as it moves across
the paper.
I'm glad that he
isn't a steer.

How deep can it go?
Cover what is felt.
Nothing weeps.
Nothing known.
Nothing really said.
Stiff with soft silence.
Just a name.
Cause you never knew.

Forward move.
Tripping sometimes
With doubt.
Reaching toward
Grasping at air.
Standing, stillness.
Spilling thoughts
And prayers.
Head down to hear.
Forward time.
Ergo, I go.

November 1974- 2023- Sonnet 75.

The two of us re-married
became one
my first true love and I again;
one of countless times
rddbba style.

Joy and happiness
is all we know
as we lay beneath the starry sky
One promise fulfilled at a time.

Our pain is nothing
but distant
and faint memories.

Our boundaries know
not a single enemy.
Not a single foe remains
alive.
Our friends are
a legion elites.
~~~~

In between the sal trees
glistens the river in October light
inviting in the rustling of leaves
to kiss her gently breaking ripples.

She hastes down the rocky *****
impatient as the river gets close
giggling in the dream when her toes
embrace the chill of the late autumn.

The catkins on the other side
swayed vigorously to be with her
spreading with the wind their pollens
in a mad desire to touch her skin.

This October morn she was carefree
floating amid hijal, fig and velvet apple trees
with winds from the river on her sail.

I only watched the fairytale.

She smiled through the unease
And accepted too much
She was eager to please
Took the unwanted touch
Until her skin grew blisters
And she cried out with shame
Too boisterous for Misters
She takes on the blame