que the soft pipe ***** music in the background

dearly beloved
we gather here this day
this day
but 24 short hours
we could go into minutes and seconds
but it trivializes the point
ladies and gentlemen
we give this day
to the earth –
sustainer and bringer forth of all life as we know it
have a day.
every breath
each sip of water
any morsel of nourishment
any of us ever had
throughout all of humankind
have a day
the bacteria in our guts
the viruses in our noses
the plants
the fish and fowl
mammals and reptiles
have a day.
a day…….
tomorrow we **** you again
tomorrow we smash your peaks for metals
tomorrow we gouge into you with spikes
        to draw out your very essence
                 for cars
tomorrow we tear away your covering
      your forests and wet lands
              for materialism
tomorrow we **** on you
tomorrow we fight against you
tomorrow we poison you
but, today, we honor you….
have a day,
earth –
later I will walk through your gift
I will smell spring flowers and think of you
forest paths will come alive with your sounds
and I will smile
I will hold you in my hands
breath you in
and shed a tear
over a day….
earth, we thank you
today
earth, we honor you
today
earth we love you
today
earth
today
a day for you –

someone nudge Martha….she’s got her hearing aid down
shut that **** ***** music off ……


listen people,
gather round close
we are running out of time
and the earth
its gonna need a bit more than a day
like, forever
we are going to have to think a little
about sustainability
our place within the larger ecosystem
we can’t survive without earth
we can’t……
won’t you help me? –

this July fourth
I would ask something
from white America
which is not going to be easy
but could go a long way
in rebuilding the dream –
do not go to parades
do not spend money on smoke and mirrors
fireworks
twinkle but for a second
but the image of hypocrisy
shines in every minority eye
instead
close the drapes
gather the family in the middle of the room
kneel
bow your heads
like in the Rockwell paintings
and ask whatever you think of
as greater than your self
for forgiveness –
when the red and white of old glory
fly for freedom
think about who is free
and what that means
do not salute
or stand at attention
for the symbol of empire
and oppression
instead
close the drapes
get on your knees
and beg for forgiveness –
400 years of slavery
250 years of empire
conversation of  wall building
deporting 11 million Americans
because of paperwork…
disallowing the influx
of the most war torn and ravaged people
since Vietnam
they are our brothers and sisters
who just happen to hail from Syria –
the United States stands as a global disgrace
in place of the greatest nation
we see hate values and racial profiling
bigotry peppered with intolerance
this fourth of July
think about freedom
think about liberty

***
dripped on the stage
leather pants
and a flowing white blouse
eyeliner enhancing lashes
long and luxurious
cream colored ax hanging off to the right
as he looked deep into us all
and asked to get ***** –
I felt the pull of the purple rain early
became free to experience physical joy
without bounds
without limits
but with your
kiss –
iconic and stoic
never feeding the hype machine
but for public appearances
still driving the masses wild
with songs 20 years past their prime.....
I bought a beret today
and shed some tears
its color,
raspberry –

yo, dawg
I remember this one time
we was straight chillin
I fell out and was sleepin hard, dawg
my homeboys was actin the fool
smoking that tea
wildin out
like they was straight mad
party was of the hiz-ook
then this little blond ***** rolled in
takin bout whitey
o’ some ****
I was tore up, dawg
sleepin in a muthafukkin teapot
this ** flappin her gums
bout this and that
like we give two *****
homeboy, we was jess lookin to rip it up
out of the blue this trick
says ‘cat’
dawg, I jumped up
running across the table
moving furniture
up in this here muthafukka
my homeboys lit out after me
hollerin like big dawgs
one a’ those fools
we like to call the Hatter
went to rubbin a bit o’ jam on my nose
a little on the gums
you how we do
anaway
that **** did the trick
and I fell out
hard like a muthafukka
passed. the ****. out.
hit the bricks and skid my chin
you feel me?
bout that time this little trip rolls in
talking about being late n’ ****
that Hatter straight destroyed his rolex
send homeboy to cryin like *****
dawg, that **** was the craziest party
we still talk about the madass ****
…..never knew what happened to the blond
chick was a trip ---

irritation builds
slowly
heat fills my cheeks
i feel a slight reddening
chest becomes partially tightened
and cool sweat coats my back
i catch the eye
of the crybaby *******
her chicken head bobbling
over 4 minutes ……
if it weren’t so trivial
and from such a wrinkly ole bird
i might laugh, or
jump across the table and slam my fist
instead I stew
boil and brood
over her insistence
to mettle in my affairs
like I need a ******* babysitter
poufy hair looking like
a bad wig, or
the explosion of an dingy pillow
yellow and greying
like someone ****** on it before work
…..4 minutes
she can ******* –

it pounds with the fervor
of 100 million idiots
screaming in unison
make America great again…
as if greatness
were so trivial
as to be allowed reentry
into the fattest nation
globally –
making America great again
like in the 1950’s
when racism and bigotry
were right as rain
where white is might
and Jesus stood with the nation….
for shame
make America great again
like when industry had children
working 15 hour days
for pennies
while toxifying the land, air, and rivers
beating the poor into submission
with clubs
and immigrating based on skin color
for shame….
make America great
again…….
like slavery?
manifest destiny?
corporate empire?
world police?
Like Donald Trump as President?


making America great starts by accepting
each other
as equals.
Period.

I closed my eyes
and felt the ground vibrate
as the Huskavarna roared to life
and chewed through log after log
devouring fibers
and depositing sawdust
the smell filled my nose
and a smile passed my lips
fresh fir in the morning
the crash of timber in the distance
the hush that fell upon the forest during lunch –
muted thumping trancelike and rhythmic
each round hit with a maul
and then bashed with the sledge
tossing split rounds
into stacks on the truck bed
perfect dance performed by the woodcutter –
the rumbling tires against the gravel road
sent me to slumber
the crunching mixed with the gentle rocking
fighting until the very last
trying desperately to hear
the low murmur
of my father and uncle Steve
telling tall tales
of 600 yard coyote kills
with just one blast
from the old 2-23 Remington
and the 40 lb. salmon
still swimming with a 20 dollar jig –

there we were
staring blankly at the screen
the error prompt called for
immediate demodulation
but it may as well been written in Latin
or Sanskrit –
I grabbed ahold of the digitizer with both hands
and began to **** and pry
which of course was not ergonomically correct
leaving me with a sore back and tattered finger skin
I caught the faintest sound
and thought maybe I had inadvertently tapped
into an alien frequency –
slowly it came clear to me that mainframe
only held a single kilobyte
and that with such a limited amount of storage
we would never reach the stars –
again, there came a slight modulation
with enough force to be considered noise
I instantly compared it
against the relational database
and realized, suddenly, that this had the potential
to be the real thing…
unfortunately I double checked with another terminal
and began to understand
what I was witnessing
was just a simple
user-friendly
videoconference –

Cascade foothill town
So many white faces shine
Winter skin, springtime

she spoke to me with baited breath
having just had a herring luncheon
I sat her down and hit her with ‘The Facts’
the 400 page volume had been recently published
she responded out of hand
and gave it to me
like a champ
her voice quaked
trembling with worry and nerves
I told her to calm the **** down
ease up
let off the gas
and just chill
coming closer and wrapping me up
she smashed me flat
planting wet lips all across my plain
holding tightly the reigns
I was put to stud
and broke the bank…
we both fell out
and crashed hard –

It’s not supposed

                     to matter…



But how


                          fat




Is Hillary!!

morning sunlight danced across the concertina
diamonds glittering along the edge
of the prison walls
the prison walls
yellow finches played in the weight pile
chipping and bouncing
among the sweat and grime
sweat and grime
voices echoed down the corridor, shouts and whoops
yard will definitely be open today
all day on the track
on the track
rows of men in blue endlessly circling
some go home, new ones join the march
incarceration as industry
incarceration as industry
the inmates enter the education building and smile
for a few hours a day they are students not numbers
I use their first names
their first names
the sunlight brightens everyone’s mood
as it is the bringer of life
shining down on all of us equally
all of us equally –

he spit the little baggy from his mouth to his hand
I took the prize and dropped it right into my own mouth...
turning to leave the filth of the lower Burnside Bridge,
as I walked away I developed a plan;
I would take my little baggy a few blocks down south,
spit the prize back into my hand, and start to cook...
place the little baggy delicately into a syringe

spit drooled from my mouth as my prize took

she sat across from me
inexpensive hole-in-the-wall
our first Chinese food date
the yellow wallpaper
the red lanterns
her smile lighted my heart
deftly wielding the chopsticks
I passed her the fortune cookie
twinkling blue eyes accepted
the sweet fair…
upon crumble the note fell
picking it up with nimble and delicate fingers
she read aloud,
“you and your spouse will be happy in your life”
we smiled at each other
and paid the tab –

this morning I looked at our picture
in front of mother’s Turner home
that cookie message
pressed beneath our lovers embrace
doesn’t seem real
that was 14 years ago –

cumulonimbus
bringing of rain
bowling gods
beware Auntie Em
jutting high like a mushroom cloud
look mommy a castle in the sky
poufy pillows piled into the stratosphere
cirrus
wispy feathers touching space
lightly floating on jet stream currents
resembling the wings of angles
always so far out of reach
morning mist
dragons breath
ground temperature mingles
with slight variations in the air
sending tendrils stretching and elongating
shadow monsters spin the shroud
and faceless nameless shapes
distort in the low laying fog bank
altocumulus
rows of bubbles fading to infinity
contrails
and chemspray
naturally
snaking across the heavens
maintaining form against
surface wind gusts
lines front the cold front
look mommy
racing stripes –

weaving  through the farmland
past black bodied cattle
in misty fields of green
zipping past the rows of Christmas trees
varying heights
we hit the sharp right at near 50
and dive into the Birch forest
steep grade and a hard right
down into the bottom of the glen
and time slows
the grass and brush glisten a little brighter
and sunlight displaced
gives shadows a playground of mossy Eden
the trees seem to lean in
surrounding the open meadow
my pre-pubescent mind
has relegated this
the place of unicorns
fairies and elves
I hop up in the back of the backseat to watch
utopia fade into the distance
its delicate ferns
and wild lilies
dance in the breeze
left by my father’s old blue Pontiac
he yells and I turn quickly back into position
locking the seat belt
and looking at the red face in the rearview
staring back
this road is always worth the *** whooping --

some folks express how much I look like my father
around the eyes
occasional sternness
rarely though were our personalities
or character traits  
placed in the same category
until the puppies came –
ole Jimmy is 11 years old now
he and his brother were gifted by breeders
papered Labradors
10 week little ***** of fluff
had I known I was to slip into insanity
I would have never accepted the bounty
family of five
plus two chew monsters
leaving no part of home or possession sacred….
let the beatings commence –
I had watched my father discipline dogs
the same way he disciplined me
with a belt or stick…
though the dog could take far more raining
and damaging blows
than my adolescent body
between whiskey and unresolved anger issues
we were raised by hand –
when Jimmy’s brother got out of the enclosure
that hot summer day on Thomas Creek
the beatings had slowed
as they were outside pups now
barely three years old
still locked in youth…
the occasional slap would suffice as reminder
one day Roy took out down the paved road
trotting off into the sunset
I called after and started walking down the road…
dogs pick up on energy
and mine was foul turning unreasonable
he stayed 15 to 25 feet ahead of me
if I stopped, he stopped
if I ran, he ran…
so we trekked
and trekked,
and trekked
we reached the Bee Tree
which sat just at 2 miles from the house
when he gave up the chase
I got ahold of that ******* dog
and set to throwing punches….
I am no small man,
running six ,five, two-seventy
off in the distance I heard a car coming up the bend
I stopped hitting that dog and began telling him
how much more beatings would come after the car passed
I sat mumbling profanities at my dear pet for 1 whole minute
while the Subaru came into view
and then disappeared off into the hills –
I grabbed that dog after I was tired of beating him
and ****** that pup by his collar onto his tip toes
and fast marched two miles back home
cursing him for gaging and choking all the way…
when we got back to the farm I cut him loose in the fence
went in to wash up and get some water
about half hour later I went to check on him…
that ole pup walked up wagging his tail
sheepishly
looked up with two blood red eyes
as my dragging him home
had bust the vessels in both his eyeballs…
I collapsed and burst into tears…
lil ole Roy dog laid right at my feet
started to licking my face
trying to console me…
the farmer down the road shot my dog 2 months later
for playing goat herder
I have his brother still and a couple other pups
no doubt in my mind I will have dogs until I die
I also know Roy was the last dog I’ll ever hit….
I prefer to just look like my dad –

a barely noticeable breeze
passed by the delicate pear blossom
and along its journey
caught my nose
the light fresh fragrance
became the universe
as I closed my eyes
and deeply inhaled  --
behind sunlit lids
my imagination created soft pink petals
dancing and twirling
barely attached to the larger twig
being folded and manipulated
by strong bumble bee legs
as pear blossom pollen
is gathered for a entitled
and specific queen –
further along the breezy voyage
the light scent transports me to a feast
guests grotesquely gorging
on the bounty
of a delicate pear blossom
allowed to pass away
and give life to fruit
harboring seeds
genetically coded
to create
delicate pear blossoms
caught in barely noticeable breezes
their wafting perfume
enticing one to
travel most beautifully –

Rumors fly about the stock market crash
America will fall on the hardest of times
All the citizenry needs to make real preparation

Is anyone out there doing anything for preparation
Or are we all holding our breath awaiting this crash
On the cusp of revisiting the Great Depression times

The American people are running out of time
For the ability to make any preparation
As this will be the final and greatest crash

Stock market out of time, make preparation for the crash

today I have struggled
with the tenements of conservatism
the basic idea
of the sanctity of life
anti-abortion terrorists
picketing in front of wellness centers
screaming that the unborn fetuses
need love, protection, and a chance
a chance to starve in hopeless abject poverty
as these same pro-lifers
desire to end social programs
funded by tax dollars
and the big mean scary federal government
these impoverished babies
forced to be born
will only cry
with hungry bellies
as the neo-cons
laugh all the way to the deregulated banks….
another life held sacred,
the Middle-Eastern Muslim
not the 19 Al Qaeda individuals
who actually crashed into two buildings
killing around 3000 citizens,
no, those living and working
in Iraq,
Afghanistan,
Libya, or Syria
those brown skinned
lives of sanctity
near a million lost souls in 15 years
that you supported drone the bombing of
innocent children and women washing clothes
blown to bits
by the sanctity of the Republican Party…
life, human life,
is no more important
to a fair and just creator
than a flower or a tree
as all creation
is sacred
it must be….
or none is –
I stand in awe of the hypocrisy
****** muscles contort
draw and release
smiles hide frowns
drowning in fearful tears
as I consider the next 20 years
of American life –

rudely intruding on my stellar mood
the thought occurs I need some food
at the risk of coming across mean or crude
the entire process feels to me lewd
as if I were a wild horse forced to be shoed
or stuck in a clown suit living fancy dude
I hope to make this clear and not be too *****
there are few things in life I despise like food

the very idea I am forced to stop and eat
you might as well tell me they are going to cut off my feet
in modern society there’s no way to be discrete
and in all actuality it’s the only way to be complete
whether vegan for life or a lover of meat
salted pork sandwich or a bite from a beet
both can be smothered in a sauce of mesquite
and with the right olives you can be transported to Crete

yes, the woes are so great when stuffing one’s face
like a hog you slop food all over the place
sit there grinning what a total disgrace
I bet you’d eat dog **** covered in mace
if deep fried and plated with a creamy white glaze
eating so fast you can’t even taste
no thought for the starving with flies on their face
you throw scraps away like there’s no such thing as waste

gaining and sweating getting terribly fat
eating mayonnaise straight from the vat
got too excited in the kitchen and swallowed the cat
one time on vacation you ate two whole rats
imagine the horror of something like that
so fat that when sleeping you need a C-pap
machine on your face to keep open the flap
you need for breathing because you got so ****** fat

I am too guilty of being a fat ****
I have lost 70 pounds and some pants still don’t fit
look at my chest and see hairy man ***
makes me so ******* mad I start throwing a fit
but it can only be my fault when really looking at it
is eating too many sweets really worth all this ****
making me feel such an ****** drooling cross-eyed old ***
falling and floundering in a self-pity pit

but I broke free and took control of the food
no longer eat gravy which used to be glued
to my ribs and my gut while growing me *****
and fell out of my bowels each time I pooed
too much sugar creating bad attitude
and helping me to stay locked in my room
a room on the inside of my body that cooed
for the release from the trap of over processed food

eternally confronted
each time Autumn slips away
by the ugliness of Christianity
blended perfectly with capitalism
as fat white middle-class *******
push and shove for the best deal –
my eyes recoil at the horror
as parents with the best intentions
place their children on a stranger’s laps
… strangers earning minimum wage
to help propagate a lie
all bent on creating entitlement
and grossly exaggerated expectations
on imaginary friends
both Santa and Jesus –
it’s a cold month in Oregon
for the spiritualist
barterer
sociology major
living December
in a nation of shopaholics
on their national day of rejoice –
I walk the streets witnessing mass consumption
of energy recourses
so thousands of twinkling lights
can show the neighborhood
how you love the savior more than everyone else
nativity in front
santa on top
retards sporting
a holiday mullet –
closing the door I am slapped
by the smell of pine
and hypocrisy
as I too
have a tree, decorated
standing in my living room –

elegance and grace
forever personified
in delicate and absentminded movements
the soft features
of her Greek goddess face
carved from marble and polished perfection
smooth and supple
sending me staggering
her voice travels on rarified air currents
cast by endangered butterflies
but only when they flutter for love and procreation
never just the hunting and gathering wind…
sipping nectar through my eyes
the only foodstuffs which have the ability to sustain
laying cradled by her love
I feel safe, cocooned,
and forever hers –

exacting pressure
parchment paper
rosin escapes
and pools
puddled tricombs
and medical molecules
lay like orange juice
fresh-squeezed
waiting restlessly
to be placed en masse
onto the awaiting enail
vaporization and inhalation
taste buds savor flavors
and the effects take hold
melting into the couch cushions
and considering the work day
I pull together another glob
and press it to the heated coil
breathing deep
my medicine of choice –

toothless smile
ear to ear
****** haze glazing sparkling eyes
as the grandchildren round the bend
face lit like the brightest moon
as tales of the fish that slipped the hook
and the biggest blackberry Thomas Creek ever produced
are excitedly shared
I watch from the rustic and weathered picnic table
thinking to myself
someday that will be me....
hopefully without the addiction
still looming --
he pulls from his pocket three full sized
chocolate bars
and hands them out
eagerly accepted as if an Oscar
or Leprechaun gold
the children scamper back into the forest
lost on another adventure
turning away from the dust trail
the greatest man I have ever known
shoots me a wink
and heads inside to catch the last
fifteen minutes
of C.S.I. Miami --

skin slightly paler and just trusting enough
the younger twin by two minutes explained
sometimes mom gets this way
standing at the open trunk of the ‘84 Mazda 626
feeding the feral dog old bologna
somewhere in the deepest humid South
late summer, two-thousand two –
driving her home from school
the oldest sits double uncomfortable
with cramps and an upset stomach
while watching me
doing the strangest dance of delicacy
as who knows the mystery of the first moon cycle
…safe! –
tromping through the stream bed
string-less sneakers barely remembered
against all odds and laws of physics
face still ***** with a sugary ring
smiles fly as the biggest agate of day
lay in stubby strong fingers –
strange prompt without limits
on this second day of poetry month
two-thousand sixteen
invoke old memories of strangers
becoming a family….

one day their children will call me Grandpa,
and Sam will quietly slip away –

broken winter grasp

ice gives way

blooms dot the valley

lost in thought and
lost in boxes
thin dust coated
stacked haphazard
her life
inside –
I began moving and rearranging the space
attempting to reclaim the study
instead memories flooded and tears fell
as each tote
carried a piece of her –
considering the southern trip
in a rented Caravan
more than a year ago
trying to decide what items
I needed to carry and store
in order to properly protect
and honor her memory –
standing in a poorly lit room
staring at her life
under packaging tape
I found myself attempting to
reorganize my mother –
as I placed boxes into the hallway closet
I found myself thinking about her
parental missteps
which then gave me freedom
to hide her away
I saw the old photographs
smiles belying childhood disappointment
not the bike I wanted
wrong style of shoe
embarrassed of the car
the house
life ……
I slide another box into the crawl space –
angry and confused
by my actions
and emotions
I think about her smile
Southern Californian blond  
six foot one shinning like the sun
in the grey Oregon drizzle
taller, prettier, and better educated
she glowed in the dying mill town
and I,
but her child,
felt lost in the shine –
vacuuming the bunnies
and mentally compiling
the inventory list seems lite
as if I lost important packed items
in the shuffling memories …..
I was instantly struck
by what was missing
from the tattered and faded boxes,
as I reorganized my mother
I had found, again
within myself –

my eyes were caught by the midday moon
the gravitational pull grabbed my arteries
and influenced my veins
tugging as if I were part of the ocean
and releasing me back into my body
it were as if my very cells themselves
carried tiny tidal pools
forever driving in and out
by the forces of night
and the power of Luna …..
the moments stretched out
moonbeams elongating over an open field
seeking the shadowy places
within my heart
all the while birds chirped and the sun shown
lawns were being mowed
as grocery carts found themselves emptied and returned
the world traveled as it does
in the sunlit afternoon
and I stood
impressed and motionless
by the influence
of the midday moon –

I spoke with a friend
sitting outside a print shop
the wives, inside
due diligence
he and I
discussing the world
lite at first
weather and camping
young adult children issues
tempered with **** talk….
but the air shifted
and politics came onto the table
words caught in my throat
as I attempted to explain
I turned away as my eyes overflowed
removing a tear
I looked back, red-eyed
and puffy
for the first time in my life
100% sure
I am an American Patriot.

crushing dabs
like Brits with ****
ragging on the braggarts
for being *******
mastering fascism
like I’m in a classroom  
learning to bridegroom
and lower the boom
eating shrooms
faster than a pig truffling
feathers ruffling
feet shuffling
feeling the scruff again
as I rub my chin
and I begin mashing the rascals
and stashing the raffle wins
like at Bingo hassling
the troll doll queen
bout to bring this to a ring
and sing to all ya’ll songs
of wax and things…..

T’was planet X that passed one night
Giving the people awful fright
So bright and red
Knew we’d all be dead
And somehow that’d be alright

It flew with glowing red horns
Early one bright springtime morn
Symbolizing death
Like children on ****
Or married men looking at ****

Sending comets and asteroids to earth
One large one took out ole Perth
So many have died
And the ones left just cried
As if we had all been cursed by Firth

For years we felt the debris
Like in autumn the falling of leaves
But these always burn
And we never learn
To at least try to hide under the eaves

So humanity faded away
Over the course of 200 days
Life came to an end
From the original sin
If only we had known how to pray….

incorruptible turnip
belly-up
exposed to the glow
of an unforgiving sun-star
mildly baking and exchanging
soft whites and purples
for damaged yellow
tan shifting to brown
wrinkles
form…
ants and flies hurriedly scurry
attempting to de-flesh
and undress
this mess left by migrant workers
rolling free from the bouncing truck
the still moist turnip
looked east
longing to be blended into
a fine cream soup—
**** potatoes

those light blue eyes of hers they captured me
just like a life raft being tossed at sea
I knew right then that I could never be
without the love that so enraptured me

I shifted my thoughts to a future time
free together without the hate or crime
nobody singing that they need a dime
the whole world living with some peace of mind

like we were flying on white wings of dove
spreading a message sent from up above
call it god or maybe alien love
collective consciousness needing a shove

sure, rhyming poetry is total ****
even when the truth comes along with it
counting syllables is so not legit
makes me crazy like I might have a fit

but right back to her and all that we share
the way she smiles and her wavy hair
what you think of me I just do not care
because our love is way beyond compare

I can keep this up for so many lines
I used to write this way all of the time
thought my poetry was ******* sublime
it turns out I was nowhere near my prime

for her love it keeps inspiring me
just like the mountains or the raging sea
a love much stronger than a rooted tree
and without her love there would be no me

I’ll round this off with just one parting word
though some of you may find this thought absurd
our love it flies on the wings of a bird
of this truth I am completely assured –

we speak of both the past and now
each giving the other time
thoughtfully considering
before responding
just like in the books…
we sit together watching trash
commenting on absurdity
and passing on the conclusions
in order to catch a few quick kisses
the world ceases to exist
outside of a place for our air and water
to materialize
14 years in,
I still feel this way –

considerate conversation
in traffic
watching irritated passersby
chuckling at the scene
hands resting
skin pressed but not pushed
as the comfort of touch
and the warmth of togetherness
fill the Kia
and replace the honking insanity
only a window pane away –

soft breath, steady and rhythmic
she waits for an answer
to the simplest query
as though I might pop off
with a cure to aids
or insight into the cern collider
I only say “yes”
as I do so hate telling her ‘no’
a smile passes her lips
inspiring mine to do the same
and we walk hand in hand
down the sandy shore
as is always the way –

thanklessly the bankers
of Wall Street
meet in discrete fields
just outside of Tupelo
plotting to further victimize
the middle of America
through interest rate hikes
and trickle down economic theory
clearly they only have our interests
in heart…
corporate hedge funds
send tons of
industrial sludge
to ponds near elementary schools
where the rules are
pick up your messes
I guess they skipped that day of class…
rash covered babies
with minimal lung function
sit at the crossroads
or junction
of a nation in transition
the plight of the people is lost
on the wealthy unregulated
impoverished men sit
waiting for a V.A. date
and the medication necessary
to combat PTSD and hold down a job
loggers with broken backs attack
environmentalists
for risking their lives to save
species…the flora and fauna
but the powers that be don’t wanna…
the United States needs a comma –

sharp and stiff pangs
hit my subconscious
old feelings of loss and lament
seem to influence the sunny day
gathering clouds on the horizon
dark and foreboding
heavy with precipitation
and thick enough to blot out the natural light
daytime darkness
as my mood fills the space
outside of my pupils
and I brood,
sullen…
bird chirping takes the sound wave
of scrapping metal on the way to my ears
transformed and damaged
I hear only the scream of mined elements
blended with the slow death
of oxidization…
I rust too –

dingy yellow
peeper
crossing the prison yard
as if crime and punishment
were faded reality
waddling with purpose
to a low spot
flippered feet slip discretely
into what seems only a mud puddle
but for this brave baby
the entirety of his aquatic life
learning to swim
and forage
where the hardest of convicts
drop hundreds of pounds
back into the weight pile –

nostrils flare as capillaries expand
rushing blood as the ******* rushes
pin-pointed eyes cannot hide
and I decide just one more hit –
stabbing wildly
the great vein hunter seeking
the most elusive of prey
…it’s a ******* wonder I don’t drop dead
obviously I have no veins…
how on earth is the blood traveling –
picking a spot only slightly tinged
my 25 percent Native American blood
leaves my skin mostly white…
but when I rub the pin hole
and the blood moves around, smeared
my skin takes on the hue of the red man,
I stab again, and again….
top of my left foot
edge of my big toe
in-between the first *******
the fatty part of my thumb
forearm, armpit, left arm, switch
wiping away blood
stabbing again
more blood
more stabbing
blood
stab
blood
stab
….the minutes turn steady
and the sweat drips in time
when in an instant it happens
the addition of a pink pastel
the recognition of acquisition
I have a vein
the near clear fluid travels
from the 1 cc
into me
and I am free
……………………………………..
………………………………………
for about 17 minutes –

Sitting atop a high mountain trail
Considering the wind and sun
Looking down upon the Cascade foothills
The patchwork of clearcutting and trees
A forest wide checkboard of man’s desire
To forever control and capitalize on nature

I wonder of this is the way with man, his nature
To blaze the wilderness and cut his own trail
Curse over his shoulder at the true god, the sun
Think only of commerce when overlooking the foothills
While taking the minerals, the animals, and the trees
To placate his own insatiable desire

What is it that feeds this desire
To conquer and control nature
What makes a man think about cutting a trail
While working in the midday sun
Is it the need to explore the foothills
A need to own all of the trees

I look in my yard at the trees
I like them, but I feel no desire
No overwhelming need to rule nature
I walk back down the dog trail
They have cut in my yard while playing in the sun
Here at the base of the foothills

I am a part of these foothills
One with the trees
I am filled with a strong desire
To recognize my comradery with nature
Forging my own, new trail
And feeling on my face the warmth of the sun

I sat on the mountain in the summer sun
Overlooking the Cascade foothills
Near me a hawk sat in a snagged tree
Neither of us felt a longing of desire
Just the need to be there surrounded by nature
I gathered my things and headed down the trail

Is it really man’s nature to be locked in such an unhealthy desire?
Do we need to take every tree from the Cascade foothills?
In the sun, I thought these things, as I walked the trail…