When darkly falls the languid night
and tails all are tucked
frightened faces peer out from sheets
pulled round their head so tight

the moon shown full upon the wall
casting shadow through the tree
gnarled fingers scratch the glass
an owl sounds its call

windswept clouds shift the mood
new pictures form and melt
distorted ghosts play in the din
postures angry and lewd

youthful eyes dart left then right
terror fills a quick beating heart
sweat droplet slips into the quilt
strange noises enhance the fright

creaking boards and a squeaky door
send thoughts of an intruder
robbers, aliens, psychopathic killers
come to settle an unknown score

minutes pass and hours slip quickly by
heavy lids give way to sleep
dreams of restful nights of peace
and images of a blue clear sky

every day the same story is told
fearfully trembling until rhythmically snoring
the plot seems worn and ragged
and this life is getting old

before the sun set and darkness settled in
he cradled a chrome 45
thought of a lifetime living in fear
and how it would never bother him again /

the vastness of an empty soul
demystifies the Grand Canyon
and shrinks the universe
to microscopic molecules
barely able to manipulate energy
matter that doesn’t matter
madder than a hare in March
balance skewed
undue pressure
seasonal disfunction disorder
ordering medication
naturalization
seeking citizenship
in an isolation township
serving only self-pity
to the self-destructive –
squatting, gargoyle
surveyor on the job
soaking in the loathing
basking in the glow
caused by the discontent of others
opioid android locked in the void
unemployed
laughing at misery
in mercy centers
meticulously mimicking the miscreants
impersonating pain
seeking to blend –
ostracized miser in designer jeans
obscene in drag queen regalia
“whiskers from under his pancake make-up”
wake-up Godiva, locate the paraphernalia  
mammalian musculature
hide the heart of a snake
as she slithers across the floor
searching for the perfect surfactant
….her scaly skin itches, uncomfortably
tearing my lip skin
in the din
of her poorly lit closet –
together in terror, the admission seems worth the cost
lost in the sweet melody
of sobbing children
and clattering dishes
shattered visions
misgivings
estrangement entangled with commitment
obligations
oblivion and orange peals
appealing to a higher power
unanswered questions hover inconsequential
adding to the ozone depletion
and altered climate
owning blame
for all the world and her problems
I sit with shoulders slumped –

multimedia macramé
sloshing propaganda sewage
on the unsuspecting public
***** lice infest ****** hill folk
west Virginia outbreak threatening the world
as we know it
flesh altering nonsense explicitly graphed
charting movement of microbes
on air, land, and/ or sea
global currents the new deliverer of death –
infected immigrants sit smiling
internment camps providing nutrition
never before experienced
as non-natives negotiate freedom
by submitting to vaccinations baths
and the standard delousing powder –
paranoid hand-sanitizer users
glued to the **** tube
spray their shoes with disinfectant
praying to an absent GOD for health
while shoveling GMO corn chips into ever widening
mouth holes
pharmaceutical companies lick lifeless lips
as Congress recognizes their humanity
while rejecting the concerns of the poor
…..no money in it –
outlandish claims of outbreaking Ebola
flood the mainstream outlets
fear: version – infinity
one more plague plan to stimulate new legislation
more law
no touching
even looking at the infirm can be cause for isolation
radiation treatments
courtesy of Fukushima, reactors 1-4 –
new found focus on fracturing the shale
releasing new oil reserves
and old bacteria
dinosaur killers
free-radicals
radically changing the genetic code
humanity altered
once again –

2 inch tree tops dot the skyline
red brick beneath housing the insane
education office desk
overlooking bars, concertina, and walls
promoting freedom of mind
in a maximum security facility /


he pops his head in asking if he is in trouble
pleading a case before there is a crime
smiling and offering smooth reassurance.
both of us hope I am not speaking out of turn…..


                         there is always a chance I am full of ****

we part ways as he heads to chow
I click clack the keyboard in time
chapel choir muffled bellowing
behind them, radio’s crackle with line movement /

actualized reality fades
fragmented democracy crumbles into
a sea of melancholy
as apathetic hipsters
too smart to vote
grumble as the nation which birthed them
falls apart –
election day blues fills coffee shops
as nonregistered corporation ******
pump dollars into the beast
stimulating the wealth gap
and their collective colons –
**** stained Senate seat swings
back and forth
while the wearer flounders
on simple issues
surrounding individual rights
fighting in tights for the
“right is might” crowd
unfounded fact sheets hold
future carnage
at least for the poor and illiterate –
national pride died
tuesday symbolizing tyranny
as zombie Americans use their
manifest destiny to choose
Coke or Pepsi,
Taco Bell or McDonalds,
Democrat or Republican,
FOX or CNN
It begins again… --
hopeless and angry
my uncounted vote
lines the floorboard
of some fancy car driven by a 1%-er
but by casting
taking the moment to voice mine
I allow myself the entitlement
to *****
**** and moan
complain
and scream at the top of my lungs
about whatever
the **** I want –

broken shards of tempered glass
scattered across the parking lot
flare excrement in little piles
give the children something to poke at while they wait
heated voices from behind the Datsun
as she screeches disapproval
frantically explaining the bind
a momentary loss of concentration can bring
expressing innocence and professing innocents
tears spill as reality takes hold
the bus is the only option now –

Tebow was a good



         college athlete........


this has not


                     translated  –

alleyway stagnation
rivulets of ammonia wander
inhibition slides
out of sight
and shoeless travelers
defecate on pizza boxes ~

worn thin soles
mold to each pebble
reflexology of the pavement
chakras explode with
symbolic frippery
leaving tendrils of aura
slipping into the pastel sunset ~

both hands hold carbon
crumbling and geo-engineered
star souls wait in silence
egg fertilization
key to reforming
birthed again
without fission ~

swaddled universe
howling siren
ships crash on basalt spies
crimson waves alter tourist sands /

~






holding






her breath                     lit a candle   /

heavy sigh escapes
minutes become lifetimes
eternity to infinity
and still I wait
to hold you near –
eyes cross with boredom
wishing even to need a toilet
but nothing breaks the monotony
but the passing thoughts
of your sweet embrace –
bad food sends a distended belly into fits of gurgle
slight sweat smell wafts down the corridor
2000 inmates pass by my wire-laden windows
their footsteps
pounding in my brain long after count has cleared
leave me longing for the quiet of our shared bed –
broken lead ends my distraction
giving me pause, long enough to sharpen my tool
thinking about what this moment brings in your office
or if you, also sit thinking of when we are together again –

thick ***** fingers wiped discolored sweat
off a forehead furrowed with concern and frustration
lifting the ball cap up and re-adjusting it
without it ever completely separating from the hair
and looking back into the irritant laid at their feet
in a flash of inspiration muscles twitched into action
and pieces began flying as if a swarm of locusts
caught the scent of fresh green shoots on the wind
and burst forth into a frenzy of wings and insect bodies
frantic in the movement a blur of activity became all anyone could see
silence fell upon the surroundings as the wrinkles smoothed
momentarily satisfied the project was set aside
with all the other pieces considered “finished”

void watching
daydream state
akin to hallucination
enfolds me and I float away
transposing imagination
for reality based life
my cells expand and contract as the ocean
blood flows as the amazon
and I expand
neural pathways elongate
and spiral into galaxies
sparking light years apart
as the information soaks in
I am all
and so are you –

FML, the

GDP….

***!!

Dreaming of freely bringing my ***** out in public
not for *** or show, no
but to catch a breeze or please a passerby
give an old lady a sigh, and why not?
we are so hung up on these ideas of modesty
and deftly trying to live up to an ethical and moral code
that was written in stone 3500 years ago
by a man with horns
who spent 40 years lost in a desert….. nay, I say
whip it out and swing it about
the same with *******
give them girls a tan, and when a man stares
poke him in the eye with an ***** ******, it’s simple
soon, **** dimples will be the norm and only in stormy weather
will we worry about coverage….we are above this rage over
breast feeding babies and ****** and rabies
one humanity naked in the sun
all skins bronzed
all eyes mere slits to the brightness
of the whiteness of my ***
it is not about wealth or class
or poverty hags with well-groomed half-breed puppies
it’s all about me and my needs to express the sin of skin
to all but my kin
as that just seems weird –

Dribbling crude slips through seams
as the icicles hang and the Robins play
in the snow fields surrounding Lake Oahe.

Distant stacks puke exhaust as
tractors come alive and
frozen tracks break free.

Roaring machinery drowns out moans
and wailing children hold tight to mothers,
tears stream down weathered faces watching
the destruction of their home.

From my home I witness the horrors
on grainy Youtube videos and
private Facebook messages gone viral.

With tied hands I witness a land *****
my eyes turn red and widen
staring
at the latest American catastrophe.

she looked down at the dog’s cancerous paw
rubbing again the medicated salve
produced from politicized plant material
and a little ole American knowhow
a slight grumble escapes his floppy jowls

the ever-present battle against carcinogens
as, daily, we breathe what fukushima offers
and drink fluoridated water
while pesticides may as well be considered
a nutritional supplement

she reaches down and pats a greying head absentmindedly
from 68 lbs. back to 110
one year and seven months of cannabis oil
has given us a new lease
on an old dog

visions of my mother in the end-of-life care facility bed
stuffing pounds into capsules to grant life
falling short when it was needed most
four months and 12 days ago
I couldn’t do for her what I did for my dog

she takes the old man out to the field adjacent our home
he runs and bounds
stops to munch grass
and roll around on the green he cannot see
the green rolls around in my head
as I cannot see either

I sat across looking at my wife
Thinking, “Has there ever been another woman like Tina Lyn”
I was considering our shared love
The commitment we made to trust
Our choice to maintain an open dialog regarding faith
And always go to bed with hearts full of happiness

It’s not always easy to hold onto happiness
But it is easier when you have a relationship built on trust
Like the one I have with my wife
It only takes a little faith
And someone like my Tina Lyn
To have a life full of peace of mind and love

I wish everyone knew there was this kind of love
If only everyone could find their Tina Lyn
Then they too could experience this happiness
And begin to have some faith
Build a life with their lover or wife
With a strong foundation of honesty and trust

I never knew I could have such trust
In my youth I had no faith
Only fleeting moments of happiness
That all changed when I found my wife
And allowed myself to open up to her love
It was then I knew I would spend eternity with Tina Lyn

I still remember the first night I spent with Tina Lyn
And our conversations about the meaning of trust
And how important that was to real happiness
Is it any wonder I made her my wife
I had never known such complete and unconditional love
So I took a chance on faith

It’s a funny thing about faith
When one considers it without god, only trust
I had to learn these things from Tina Lyn
Even though I knew I ‘wanted’ a life full of love
‘Wanting’ is not the road to true happiness
and would have never brought me my perfect wife

I think about my happiness as a man in love
The trust I have in my relationship with Tina Lyn…
Only person to ever bring faith into my heart is my wife

Mountain stream,
barely flowing, a trickle really
cascades down the rock face
largely evaporating before tumbling
to the slight puddle below
the wannabe torrent meanders slowly downhill  
grabbing the occasional leaf
and transporting it to the valley –
foam bubble travelling the length
finds itself stuck on a small waterlogged
bramble branch
being pulled and distorted,
its rainbows playfully dance
casting light onto shadowy bank caves
looking at how much journey has passed
excited about what it to come –
dislodged pebble bounds along the creek bed
sending  old crawdad claws
and remnants of fish **** particulates
swirling and careening though the rippling brook
as the tiny boulder strikes the bramble,
the pebble finds a new home
while the bubble continues its long overdue journey –
a wind in the tree tops sends
helicopters and pine needles soaring
spinning and falling without care or forethought
the tiniest sharpened end of a pine needle
drops tip first
into the bubble
as it travels peacefully down…
a sudden ‘pop’ and the forest falls quiet
seems the wise ole owl will collect again….
he is the only one always betting on bubble failure –

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

~





like a pendulous cow udder

    taut and round



            the morning clouds
                                               seemed to ask




would you like a drink of rain  /

~


hard breathing       long night
repeat    repeat

she holds on
and I wait ~

sponge moisture
     cracked tongue
              injected pain meds

still, her will maintains ~

tears stream as I beg
your non-responsive body
   please     let      go

gurgles rise and fall
with slow chest movement

                in the quiet night
                       soft beeping in the distance
I see the truth

fear keeps you ~

bone fingers, cold and veiny
rest in my own

softly, I begin to tell you
not to be afraid

brother will be fine
I will be fine
your pets will be fine
the house
the yard
the tribe….

it was only 10 minutes down the highway
when the phone call came

when you let go

when you were no longer afraid ~



that was the moment I realized

I was afraid


        of       losing      you /

I

creeping up slowly through the dew
dirt and grit stuck to a slimed back
trailing off into the pre-dawn purple
pink elastic head pushes forth
exploring new territory for foodstuffs
on a chilly morn
near a dilapidated barn
greying wood darkened
both by the time of day
and the coating of early morning moisture
stretching out and doing
a masterful accordion impression
the tiny flesh-colored soldier
presses on so as to eat
before the sun finds and cooks him


II


still wet, a brown milk cow travels slowly
bell clangs randomly
as if the uneven ground were sheet music
and her hooves the fingers of Bach
long lolling tongue stretches forth
to clean away nostril debris
and reposition yesterday’s cud
one large eye scans the farmhouse door
looking for a light or signs of life
as the daily fest arrives
with each breaking day
a low bawl escapes her mush filled mouth
an attempt to signal as the sun cometh


III


upon a post a small finch lights
without fanfare or announcement
a song bursts forth
filling the quiet valley with whistles
followed by chirps and tweets
the greeting is returned  by a thrush
hiding in the brambles
soon a chorus erupts to greet the sunshine
and express gratefulness for another
beginning
bouncing down and fishing a twig
the little finch, proud of her concert
returns to the job
nests do not build themselves
and the young will come in short order
mashing the twig
into a muddy slot
and stamping it perfectly into place
eyes cast across the meadow
seeking flying insects unaware…



breakfast at the farm takes many forms

Looking out across the farm, I am disarmed…
not generally an alarmist,
I am charmed by the sheer magnitude;
Grow two-thousand fifteen stands emerald green in the evening sun
As all 87 girls stretching up and out
as per the scrogg instructions,
some super cropping and a little topping
has forced the crop to the top tier of excellence
in defiance they rely on us, the growers
or tenders of the medicine
but moreover, the sunshine and proper nutrition…
much like a child that needs to be kept safe
and fed healthy,
these babies also crave love and compassion
and, after a fashion, they bequeath these gifts back onto us
in the form of perfect female flowers
flowing freely with the sap
containing chemistry capable of curing cancer
ending seizures
and generally improving the overall quality of life
for the non-abuser.
“Come to Oregon!” I say
as this is the place to be
to freely see what can be
when a few likeminded individuals
join forces and redefine the land
and what it means to be a farmer
and crop tender. –

foundational fluctuation
as flatulence is introduced
that’s right
**** jokes
pppfffrrrttttt
destroying families
undermining relationships
damaging friendships
ending love
breaking the mold
extinguishing the fire
eliminating the excitement
drowning fun
and smelling bad –
pretentious vegetarian
wind walker
kale excretions
cabbage attack
cauliflower bandit
spreading propaganda
and funk
while talking trash
about cigarette smokers –
I could go on for days
making egg comments
referring to the arrival of Eddie’s
big brown shark –

afternoon poo cramp brings a wave of nausea
sweat coats my back causing
the polyester blend to stick to my skin
unsightly wrinkles and folds follow
my belly bulge’s smooth contours  
highlighted –
trying to adjust my ball cap
in a pointless effort hinging on the idea
that wiping the sweat from my brow
will alleviate six feet five inches
of gross wet mass;
this of course is fruitless and all I get
is a wet spot on the bicep of my shirt—
gurgling belly as I try to digest poison Taco Bell
and high fructose soda-pop
like I am still a teen
trapped in a 40 year old frame…
one day I will give up the trash
eat a bit better
and feel loads different,
until then, this will occasionally return
and be my revolving lunch fate –

I can’t breathe….
the weight is too great and my fate waits
plated…
I need only choose it as it sits so near
I can touch it
crutched ******* munch my lunch
my growing hunch bunches
and I get a headache –
the macabre steps out
rotten curtains hang limp around eyes
coated with think and smeared mascara,
earlobes gauged and a professional gapper,
lifts its 6 fingered hand
reaching for the peaches –
cheap fruit on the veranda molds
plastic bowls hold cracked eggs
and her legs stretch to the moon
swooning, I come unglued and swallowing ludes
like a Bill Cosby date I wait again
for my fate to begin –
peeling paint and fainting actresses
plaster masked maniacs along muddy hallways
shinning pennies give the illusion of care
but rarely is flare so debonair
the holey underwear share in my despair
we were unprepared –

~


my body went through the motions
           gently grabbing and pulling
                 from the corner of the roll
                     tossing absentmindedly large crumbs
                       to eager ducks
                          and one old swan

the foggy day matched
           my teary gloss
                    maybe the sun shone bright
                           yet I could not see past
                                  my own mist

  this was her bench       possibly
               these were her ducks
                       in the abstract
                            I was her
                                      tossing my own body to the fowl

delicately folding the plastic bag
             I placed it and her memory into my pocket
                        flipped my collar against the cold air
                               and turned my back
                                       on Mother’s ducks    /

~
Overcome with discomfort
like doing the Truffle Shuffle
on a cold day in the rain
belly exposed and wet
frantically jiggling
as if too much Ambrosia salad was
piled on a silver tray –
green Cool Whip slopping over the side
sticky fingers sliding
until it finally drops
and some new access is granted.  /

experiencing overwhelming gratitude
for so many aspects in my life
the sun rising again to shine upon my face
the feeling of warmth and total encompassment
that one has standing in the morning sun
in a quiet meadow –
three big dogs bound into the living room
slobber flying and loudly panting
flopping, rolling, kicking their legs
I laugh at the spectacle
giving them all a vigorous rub down –
from out behind the overgrown spider plant
the little black and white Waffle cat
stretches his long leg into view
rubbing against the edge of the couch
arching his back to brush it
against the chin of my old lab
before coming up and offering me a small ‘meow’ –
the pack follows me to the back porch
grabbing a handful of fishy kibble
I toss the lot into my hand-dug pond
5 to 8 inch six year old goldfish splash
and gulp down the bounty
tall bamboo shoots sway gently in the backdrop
creating both shade
and an exotic feel to my little oasis –
the Kia starts right up
Frank Zappa announces the variety of ways
in which a Jewish Princess is a good catch
and I smile
knowing today will be a good day….
even if Ice Cube did have to pull out an A-K –

~

            sea spray


                               casts thin shadow.......



-I'm hungry!

slow, deliberate…
painstakingly
the second hand struggles
against Swiss made gears
diabolically, the mechanism shifts slightly backwards
before making the push into a new moment
causing extra sweat and a flash of panic
so goes the process
until the surrender unto darkness and fantasy
grip eyes straining to see the next tick

Looking across the crashing Sound
Spirit broken by the waves
I sat upon the cold, wet ground

Only able to muster a frown
As I considered my awaiting grave
Looking across the crashing Sound

Captivated by each wave's pound
Their song made me a slave
I sat upon the cold, wet ground

T’would be but an instant for me to drown
No coast guard to perform a daring save
Looking across the crashing Sound

I took a deep breath and a long look around
Tried making my way to the damp sea cave
I sat upon the cold, wet ground

I tried in vain to get my mind unwound
No longer desiring to rant and rave
Looking across the crashing Sound
I sat upon the cold, wet ground

ranked out ****
on drugs
lovin lady hugs hatin bugs
cuz
I smash em
like a hammer nailin
combine bailin
fire line trailin cuz I be sailin
distant shores
sunblocked pores
drinkin Coors
rollin with the movers
do her
then leave in the compost
heave her on the fence post
go coast to coast
roast that ***
like the muthafukkin
*** roast
almost coasted into the trap line
caught my behind
shot em from the tree line
try to unwind
blowin my mind
try to find
some kind
buds on the street
beatin calloused feet
greetin hip grannies
with my fly *** beats
eatin meat
shooting to killa
thrilla the hunt
act like Ted Nugent
‘cept I still be shootin drunk
listenin to funk
***** trunk honey smells bunk
and I roll out --

trickling slowly
as if a light rain were falling down
hand railing
time seems to stop and start
in fits and thrusts
pausing long enough to send shivers
and give the witnesses enough
fear
to feel assured in proclaiming
the apocalypse was upon us all –
I drew dry whiskey slowly
and swished it twice
along my upper gum line
and back along my cheeks
exhaling fire
and nodded……..
     I too was sure
            we were all to die –
a breeze passed
    that could have been a
butterfly in Indochina
or the spirit of a long dead
      moonshine runner
coyote calling in the darkness
     listening for an answer
                  of an all-clear

the night held us all
     near breathless
barely visible on the horizon
            a faint orange glow
                           where no town resided –

Looking out the window I was transfixed by the trees
The outside edge of a vast forest
It was autumn and I admired the various colors of the leaves
I felt as if I were on pins and needles
Preparing to go out and commune with nature
As was the way with those of us blessed to live in Oregon

I have always lived in Oregon
Though I have traveled to many different forests
Often I am struck by the difference in the leaves
As I wander through my home away from home, nature
Stopping often to examine the trees
Crush and smell the needles

There is nothing like the smell of fresh Fir needles
When standing in a temperate rain forest
Like the one we have here in Oregon
Looking out across the tops of the trees
Entranced by the turning Oak leaves
Becoming one with the surrounding nature

It is such a blessing to have a relationship with nature
And fairly easy if one chooses to live in Oregon
You needn’t have love for forests
Or a desire to play amongst the leaves
The eastern desert has Juniper needles
And small scrub-brush trees

The Oregon coast has wind-swept trees
With branches stretched and tattered leaves
We find the smell of pine when crushing these needles
Along the Pacific in beautiful Oregon
And while the difference is vast within nature
It is all part of the greater Oregon forest

I stood content, as a part of the forest
Rooted to the spot I stood I became one with the trees
Beneath me lay the softest bed of spruce needles
I thought, “I am living as part of, and in tandem with, nature,
this is what it is to be an Oregonian”
I stretched out my fingers and they became as the leaves

Contemplating Oregon and its various coniferous needles
The natural beauty surrounded me like a thick stand of trees
And the forest held me close, as if I were a freshly opened leaf

fractured rays pass through tattered treatments
the broken fast moving clouds ever changing
shadow creatures dance across my desk and skin
playfully morphing from recognizable shapes
to distorted images of madness
my concentration only hastens the changes –
thoughts race to match the sky
bounding effortlessly from subject to object
objectification to subjugation
absconding subjected objectify-ers
subjugating the obtuse –
swaying tree tops pepper my field of view
a light breeze plays among the needles
damaged branches dislodge and fall
in the ever-changing Fall –

reaching out my nervous hand
I met my first “real” poet
excitedly I introduced myself
wanting desperately for him to know my name
but for a better reason

even the greatest artist produces trash
so what chance did I have?
an assignment gone astray
turned into a meeting I will
never
     forget

I attempted to recreate drivel
and succeeded beyond compare
eventually turning myself into a goat
complete with horns and an attitude
I just hope redemption
can find the non-Christian

many little moments comprise this ride we call ‘life’
some inconsequential
some life-altering and forever remembered
……….I wonder which today’s will be