hardwoods reduced to naked indignation -                                        
blackbirds voice their mathematical equations
field smoke bound for the dusken diamonds of autumn ..
dove mourn the close of day ..
the crackling corn ..
Septembers hay ..
a locomotive bound for Montgomery ..
ash enroute to the moon ..

I think l'll find a bluejay -
a loud vociferous jay -
standing her ground , sure-
and proud ..
Alert , unabashedly pious -
and lyrically meticulous ..
Voracious for truth , golden throated with frank religiosity and unbridled animosity in silencing the powers that be ..
Bound for eternity ...
In her honor I have named her-
Miss O'Connor ...

Just remember that humanity is a 'bump-
in the road' to 'manmade , insentient cyborgs' controlling-
the earth someday..

a skeleton key to the coffers of-
the pineywood panacea ..
a granite stone skipped across-
cool creek water ..
to whitetails concurring with-
the morning fires of October ..
to mechanical leviathans sojourned-
in prickly winter ..
to brown sugar fields in frosted glitter ..
for an audience of blackbirds in naked-
hardwoods , the crashing cymbals of Enumclaw-
across Chattahoochee river bottoms , the
tapestry of purple flowers in rested ploughland ,
to ancient peoples born , stood , tested and long since -                    
passed..

it's not a tear, child ,
merely a drop of rain ,
a gift to nullify humanities pain ,
an elixir from heaven above ,
a concurrence of musical tones-
from 'the almighty'
an unsealed trove of afternoon love ...

A lone troubadour in some forgotten bar ,                                            
Paints the silence with a weathered guitar
Maracas made of ice cubes in tall drink glasses
The clatter of billiards , the call for waiters
Neon lights shower chipped tabletops
Chatter , laughter & poetic lies
Salty margarita tops , old world steins
A young writer recording his thoughts -
in between sets  
Tales of stale beer
A love grown dour
The plight of the wordsmith
The powers that be & the killing rent ..
The perfect gig & the strangling government ...

These Brogans have walked many trails ,
carved the red clay , tracked through the summer-
hay , laid impressions on many a shore ,
climbed barbed wire , kicked tractor tires
stomped out backyard fires , walked the property
line , ten years service with ne'er a shine .

These blessed overalls have staved the cold on frosty
morns
Many a pocket filled to the brim , Goody powders ,
nails and screws , guitar picks & Red Man chew ,
fence pliers , shotgun shells , a #2 hook and a catfish bell ....