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 --

1-
T’was dark when the time came for breakfast
I looked down at my untied shoes
With a spirit only able to be described as broken
I left my abode to stand under a lonely lamppost
And let my body quiver and quake with rage
As I thought about the night’s voyage

2-
Raindrops coated my new suede shoes
As I felt myself lulled by the buzz of the lamppost
Her face filled my mind and I savored the rage
Knowing she now was far away on her voyage
If only I had asked her to breakfast
If only I had complemented her shoes

3-
Looking back towards the house, and my now cold breakfast
I thought about her asking me to join the voyage
But my heart was already broken
And her query only further filled me with rage
She knew I had left my only shoes
Sitting in the rain under the lamppost

4-
The dampness chilled my bones as I stood under the lamppost
Exhausted from so much time lost in rage
My belly ached from having no breakfast
And my body began to feel broken
As if I could not even walk due to the tightness of my shoes
But there was nothing left but to begin my homeward voyage

5-
I glanced at my watch in the light of the lamppost
It would be too late for a McDonalds breakfast
Even if I could find my shoes
It was a seven block voyage
And when I slipped, stubbed my toe, and realized it was broken
I felt, once again, myself fill with dangerous rage

6-
From a distance I heard high-heeled shoes
She approached from a different kind of voyage
In her hand she held a bag of breakfast
From the McDonalds with a sign that was broken
Instantly it left my body, all that rage
And we held each other, under the glow of the lamppost

burly gents in waxed mustache
line wooden tavern walls
intently scoping fresh hams
eyes bulge and saliva drips

                                             one might think
                                                                   they never saw a woman


wolfishly staring pondering dinner
to chew through satin of blue
and expose soft pink delicacy
Cosby considerations in the lonely afternoon

Can I get you a          drink?
May I hold your                   purse?


lost in character  
the would be ******
holds the door
smiles
looking at an
apple shaped bottom
as they enter, together,
the establishment /

twitching muscle above my right eye
signifying stress and unexplored options
reminding me that something sits, unresolved
bouncing as a child in an inflatable wonderland
neurotic nerve-ending, ending my peace
pieces of broken mirror lay at my unshod feet
maximizing rage, a scream passes chapped lips
spittle gathering at the corners
while lunacy takes hold
10,000 scenes pass by my inner-eye
each with its own special irritant
seeking to disrupt the easy-going nature
put forth by sandals and elastic-waist(ed) short pants
wasted years bothered by triviality
sitting wasted, wasting my time
and that of the government agency
which employees this sorry ***
gassed in class passing with class
recoiling from the derailment
I try to regroup
but the short pants line
has the tears too thick to type

suicidal fly


                                          meticulously inspecting


             which web will


take




                                                                                             his life –

Wriggling infantile amoeba…
barely a bacterium,
adheres biomechanically
to passing hemoglobin,
introducing alien elements
and corrupting the hosts purity…
experiment completes
within 6 generational spans
and man stands –
foreign bodies infiltrate
meteor dust inhaled
joins broken genes
and imposes slight variations
on the double helix…
possibility explosion
exploiting the environment
granting the upright ape
voice and reason –
volcanic ash and the passing of Venus
universal suffering and pain
misshapen faces contort
gobbling petroleum based mana
from the nearby fauna
bottle-neck and inbreeding
nothing to feed on but the flesh of those past
5000 ****-sapiens
give rise to 7 billion lunatics
roaming lost and *******
on a little blue marble—

icy breath sends neck hairs
to attention
frozen bleakness takes the shape of
crystalized dew
speckling the wall
twenty feet high solid concrete
concertina wire decorations
‘tis the season –
holiday bliss as reminiscent prisoners
wax nostalgic
and shift sad eyes when discussing
dry turkey
with beaten and battered cranberries
logistically, the state could not afford
all the trimmings for 3000
so donated feast materials
get the highest of praise –
raising toasts
to over-bearing guards
as the time of year
transcends fear and mere hatred
together they spend another Christmas
inmates and officer
blessed in an un-holy union –

Her eyes fill with tears
as we leave the costal campground.
Soundlessly, she sobs…
not for sadness,
but the remembrance of times past.
I cast loving eyes in her direction
keeping the wheel straight as we
careen down Oregon’s beautiful highway 101.
Years flash before my mind’s eye…
Images of present wrappers strewn about
and,
family meals with extra trimmings
and,
placing grandma Sue under her favorite tree
to spend eternity.
Too much time has passed.
I gently stroke her thigh and express my love,
she turns and looks deep into me,
knowing I understand that it is not pain,
but the love of our children
and the times we will never have back
that gives redness and puffy eyes cause to be.
Quiet miles pass…
The green rolling hills break off onto sandy beaches;
white tipped waves crash giving the dampened granules
a darker tone
matching the interior of the grey Saturn Vue.

paying to be published
is *******
is egocentric
is foolhardy
I think anyone taking that road
needs to rethink the meanings
of art and expression
writers for money
are ******…..
but it is easy for me to feel this way
I am barely published
and hardly known…
maybe I should drink more milk –
would I ***** it up if given the chance…
sure, I want to be recognized
I am a poet,
maybe even solid
and since Maya died,
there is a slight void
but nothing on this lovely rock
would create in me the need to pay
to see my name in print…
well, more than the ole sweat and tears –

misty eyed children shift in gossamer sheets
spider web silken swaddling  
hold arms and legs at bay
whilst the neocons pull delicate straws
from deep pockets
lined with south African diamonds
and Venezuelan crude
slowly they sip the crimson life
from the babies *******
piercing hearts and slurping long
pulling each and every droplet
into an insatiable void –
feverously unwound and placed back
into wombs forever altered
space creating blank eyed apathy monsters
only fixated on technologic advances
and trending topics
broken minds unable to grasp critical thought
only seven second processing
and on to the next hashtag
expressionless blight on humanity
also, the future of civilization –
tears well as I sit across from children
lost in phone
lost in space
faceless emotionless creatures
bravely feeding medication
to their elders
for 16 dollars an hour –

shortened answers leave room for misinterpretation
and so the founding fathers do the grave roll
as a new dance sensation
all the great thinkers and leaders of the past do it
as we, the present, fail in their ambitions
and falter in the attempt to fulfill those dreams
dreams of freedom and peace
dreams of equality and self-reliance
or as I like to call them
delusions
lies told by drunk men bent on utopia
it’s easy to see
as they separate the church
and place us under god
creating instant dichotomy
in a nation without connection
I have no relation to the Southern Baptist Bigot
or the New York City *******
I barely relate to the culture of Salem Oregon
as it doesn’t relate to Portland or Eugene
all sitting in the Missoula flood plain
surrounded by tectonic plate boundaries and volcanoes
which, while creating fertile soil for wine grapes;
is not really conducive to building civilization

promises of commitment
intertwined with feelings of compassion
idiosyncratic moments indelibly imprinted
as love between two humans is expressed
and allowed to flourish –
one ruling by an appointed court
opening judge’s doors’ across the country
giving freedoms to homosexuals
which should have never been in question
another example of the lie
that is “separation of church and state” –
millions of Americans cry out in unison
that God’s will has been wronged
while holy matrimony
uses the same language “Do you take this person”
when children marry stuffed animals –
in a day when twenty Bachelorettes
can battle for the hand of a stranger
on nationally syndicated television
how can people stand up
and argue based on a value system –
ethics, moral standards, belief systems…
these concepts are individually defined
if I think it is o.k. to have a tattoo
of Tom Selleck ******* Omar Gadhafi
that is my business
and it can’t really hurt you…only offend –
if you feel offended
by the Supreme Court decision
to allow the LBGT community marriage equality
I would argue
you have too much time on your hands –

What if……


               our curse

                          is to witness



the earth




                                     die –

bowling pin serenity  
white and controlled
everyone loves the separatism
as it is encouraged and propagated
revolution as a fad
for ****
right to buy, die, fry, and try
skin-color guarantee
Paul Mooney, “complection for protection”
meaning my pigment protects me
from what….
I experience the loss of loved ones to cancer and illness
I suffer years of addiction and the lasting effects of liver damage
I am poor, was raised in poverty
my skin means nothing to the bill collectors
or the tax man
or the capitalist system
do I not suffer the slow poisoning
of industrialization
of globalization
infection
rejection
……
We all sit as slaves in this new America
I just happen to be in the front of the bus

Her hand recoiled,



                                        the deep chill was far too much...




his hands were winter.

~




after they were kicked from the garden  

and begat nations with the children of man

I found you in the desert

    we wandered hand in hand for an age



when they sacked Troy

when Rome fell

when Christians became the power

I found you in the northern mountains

   we sailed strange seas

          discovering lands before unseen



when a plague brought the darkness

   and inquisitive priests carried branding irons

I found you in the forest

where we shared boiled roots

and healing herbs



when disease ended paradise

and oddly colored faces filled with hate

massacred cultures

destroyed civilization in the name of god

    I found you deep in the jungle

        sleeping on a soft bed of giant leaves



when tubes fell from the sky

and exploded with the power of the sun

as bodies were carted away

       burned in warehouses

I found you in an alley

we hid in laundry baskets

        until liberators showed us light still existed



I found you in a shallow delta

            with terraced patties as far as the eye could see  

found you again in a protest

          as we marched across a bridge for freedom



I will always find you

     no incarnation can keep me from it    /

shadow people flash across cracked windows caked in icy fog offering my epidermis a thin layer of gooseflesh and sending thoughts cascading into visions of murderous strangers and Victorian era hauntings…catching my breath and remaining froze to the ground while the very blood within these veins seems to turn and transform into thick slow moving maple syrup fresh from an Eastern Canadian tree… attempting to regain my composure I conjure images of sunny days and buzzing bees, free government cheese and freeze tag in the warm breeze…ticking of the wristwatch forces reality into the scene and my pleasant daydreams seem to vanish into the mist swirling around dilapidated stairs greyed from years of weather abuse and staining deficiency…splinters, jagged and threatening, stand poised to pierce shoes and send victims screaming to hospital only to discover untreatable infection based on ancient ***** matter and insect larva bacteria…one deep breath coinciding with a white-knuckled gripping of the three special pamphlets is followed by the most courageous step ever taken…confronted with the specter of the large wooden door, I stop, look skyward and ask god for strength before knocking on the twenty-second home this day…

trying to sleep in the hostile hostel
stranger noises allow terrifying fantasies
to permeate my tired mind
sleep deprivation as a lifestyle choice -
shadow figures encroach
as frozen muscles fail
only able to tremble, be it the cold
or the horror of what I cannot make out -
shapeless faces blend with faded wallpaper
morphing from alien abduction
to hysterics over tree branches scratches
rain against the panes bring fresh pain -
drained, emotionally
slumber finally conquers
the mystery of sleep paralysis

Everyone rejoice!
Run out and get Gay Married today!
While you are out, sign up for universal health care
if the website is up and functioning…  
and you can navigate the page –
America is in an uproar
over new laws effecting the status quo
and yet
no one is discussing
a Republican house and senate
granting one of the most hated
democratic presidents ever
fast-track power
for the Pan-Pacific trade agreement
or the fact
that the Supreme court
just voted down
an EPA recommendation
to lower and eliminate Mercury emissions from industry –
But, Hay!
Don’t let that damper the parades
or stop people for one moment
from shaking a clinched fist
or frantically waving hands
at the leaders
of, by far,
the most insane nation on this
little blue rock –

As one

                                                of SEVEN billion

I


   s
     u
        p
          p
             o
               r
                  t


random




                             population
                                         control.

~





minutes tick away the hours leading to long days and years
and she grows older without a father as witness
no strong hands to help her up or
ever to push her on a merry-go-round
instead they hold my head as I try to push you out   again

a five year old babe on a swing in a park in the sun
moment of memory that I wonder if we share
miniature impersonator of my father and myself
a daughter with sandy highlights plays in my mind’s eye

twice I chose to walk away
and leave you to the world’s device
once as a newborn when ****** ruled my days
and again just after your sixth year


six months until you turn eighteen
a date in the middle of August as important to me
as any moon landing or planned  invasion
when I will give you the chance to decide
if my extended hand could ever fill
the roll of your father  /

Hello poetry website:
I need to complain and cry on an imaginary shoulder
as I tire from all the deadlines and expectations
to be a parent, and husband
employee and student, 6’5” and 310 lbs
I feel I fail
and will only fall
yet, each day I awake with hope in my heart
that this will be the one
that moment when I become ‘normal’
when I no longer beat myself up about eating habits
or care if my hair is mussed
when I no longer live confused and frustrated
masking mediocrity with marijuana
looking back at life as a ******
as the only time when things were clear
Is this all life offers?
Am I to forever experience longing?
my plight is not unique
or special
it only holds any importance at all
because it is mine

ah yeah
beautiful ladies
stretching up to the sun
what a gift
this little ****

see uh I been a grower
for some time now
grow that types a ****
make ya mind bow
gettin lower
on that cheeba
no not cheva
this is a killa weeda
so many strains
make ya heads spin
you like to stay up late
or get all locked in
see it don’t matter
which way ya wanna go
indica or sativa
I treat ya right, bro
see here in Oregon
we do things different
work a barter system
help each other pay rent
call me a socialist
like a give a ****
you be at my door
when ya havin hard luck
I’m a medical grower –

Son, I grow medicine
stopping censures
killin cancer
out my freezer
alcohol extracts
make all ya'll relax
no mo heart attacks
rushin like the train tracks
I grow medicine –

I grow out door
like that plant was meant to be
no chemicals
let that ***** grow free
feed em organic
lots a guano
watch the buds rippin
from the back po
see I’m a real farmer
have a long patient list
always lookin to add names
get the money makers ******
so I don’t charge much
just cost no overhead
I aint in this to get rich
that’s why I got this rap bread
I’m a medical grower –

Son, I grow medicine
stopping censures
killin cancer
out my freezer
alcohol extracts
make all ya'll relax
no mo heart attacks
rushin like the train tracks
I grow medicine –

I’m a poet…
Not one of these
rhyme selling
alliteration junkies,
nor a stanza *****, and what’s more
I think sonnets and Haiku a bore
I snore
at the doorway to beat poet’s hipster-ism
giggling internally at the vast breadth
of useless love prose.
I stand examining the sunrise for meaning
seeking the symbolism left in the echo of crunching dead leaves…
mine is not the path for the faint of heart
as I attack with words
every social norm I come across
every cultural drag
and each individual act of stupidity
so as to become the voice of a nation
unheard, unknown,
but existing, none the less –
I am a poet.

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 –

slight wisps of frankincense
    traveled to the ceiling
looped and swirled
     before attempting to dissipate ~

within the smoke’s
                                 last throws
     his ghost
                arose
and our eyes met ~

locked in a spacial gaze
my emotion could not contain
      tears fell as my body
                       shook
fear overtook me as
etheric lips parted ~

a voice formed
           deep inside my skull
                 slow and steady
                    guttural mumbling
began to take shape
                    form words ~

a message of perfection
was imprinted on my mind
     complete with feelings
         surrounding order and place
I was exactly where I was
                 supposed to be
doing the very thing
       I was born to do~

inhale    exhale        blink
spongey texture filled the void
    off white and shabby
laughter found sound
and a smile beamed forth
          the ceiling
                    was perfect   /

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 –

solitary howl
growling trial chill ridden
tightening chest and pain
behind one eye
stress reduces
jelly legged machismo sulking
regression completion
seeking seclusion revolved by a reflection
churning bowel Elvis hip
flipping tripper gripping imaginary handrails
rising heat to hot spit gurgle
sweat breaking head spinning grasping
grinning

in the trenches
battling rattling prattlers
straddling irritated malcontents
brandishing education
via the internet –
limiting access
trimming excess
brimming with confidence
lifers in academic dress
blessed by family members
proud of a child’s accomplishments
allowed only to wear non blue regalia –
cell-in after dinner
no-yard, no rec
lock-down at the correction facility
eight by eleven printed paper
symbol of hard work and determination
in the face of contempt and mistrustful eyes
lies –

Purple Cascade Range!
Is God’s vanity so real
I must sit awestruck ?

purple Lupines
create a foreground effect
below glistening concertina wire
as the morning sun shines down
the prison in April blooms forth
despite itself –

goslings, tan with black spots
stop traffic
forcing recognition of nature
in a place void of hope
springtime blessing the groundskeepers
and those fortunate enough to have been given yard time
blue skies only corrupted by chemical spray –

        laughing inmates break my concentration as a pigeon lands on  
           barred windows
               a cool breeze creeps in diluting the stale air

education floor buzzes with activity
as forgotten men seek to become more
better
different
I sit encouraged by light bulbs –

crackling radio signals the line movement
round two of handshakes and polite jokes
another hour and twenty minutes of magic
I quietly sit back and smile at the scene laid before me
no student has more fire for education
than a man who thought himself less than nothing

I parked upon an old dirt road
Contemplating conservation
I heard in the distance a forest toad

There came a rumbling from below
Creating in me some reservation
I parked upon an old dirt road

I smelled grass freshly mowed
It begin a contemplation
I heard in the distance a forest toad

Remembering a picture I once was showed
And my complete indignation
I parked upon an ole dirt road

To my right a firefly perfectly glowed
With fierce retaliation
I heard in the distance a forest toad

My broken pick-up needed to be towed
Down to the service station
I parked upon an old dirt road
I heard in the distance a forest toad

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 ******* –

I sat at the desk considering Whitman
It was a blond desk
Pressed particle board
A few scratches on the surface
Pencils marking and erasing
Marking and erasing
   And the stain
     Coffee?
    Candy?
    Circumstance had created an ugly table
But the tree had to have been majestic
Surrounded by forest
The occasional squirrel
Grey with a bushy tail
Scampering here and yon
Burying acorns for the coming cold
I couldn’t grasp his worth
So much notoriety
And for what…..drivel
Parchment coated in pig ****
Eaten up by the masses
As if it were caviar
  Delicate row packages
Pulled from the soft underbelly of a salmon
Or grunion
The whiting swam as if in a festival of silver backs
Brought home by the seasons to spawn and die
Forever continuing the cycle of Darwin
    The book began to way as heavy as
       My eyelids
       Placing the trash on the table
          Next to the waste-paper basket
I thought to myself….
Better to start again tomorrow…fresh eyes
Better to see what all the fuss
      Is really about –

there is a chance
that today is the day
in which I utilize
the fountain of information
at my disposal
in order to live
a happier
and more health conscious life –
so many fine books
hours of research
digging deep to find the truth
hidden in dark recesses
humans no longer need meat
only the awareness and fortitude
to live as fans of nutrition –
fast food fallout
cancer in droves
obesity in the streets
and food addiction as the norm
live if America revolves
around being and maintaining
fat ***** –
290 lbs. and 6 feet four inches tall
probably should weight closer to 185
probably should never eat another steak
probably gonna die of heart disease
unless……
we are have the amazing ability within
to make another choice
today, may be that day for me
time to make another choice –

did I repeat myself
expressing the same emotion
acting like pain hurts
again
did I bore you
with tales of myself
bellyaching and bellowing
into the night about terror
and woe
last time we spoke
all we did was argue
fussing and fighting
like children
last time I saw you
it was just like the time before
last time –
are you fading into memory
slipping for daily consciousness
no longer striving for you place
in my psyche
are you longing to be free
of my sameness
the lameness
of a blameless life
shamelessly pacing in
high-heeled slippers
am I too believe this is the end
nothing more to say
just staring blankly
off, into space…. –

pixelated images
memories of a lost child
all grown up.
she stares into the camera
asking where I have been…
finding profile pics
of years gone by.
estranged is so strange
when faced with the reality
my little girl exists.
dreams shift as new ideas seed
the same old mantra rings again
“Maybe when she is 18 she will look me up”
…today that seems a lot to put on a child.
my mind whirls
as I try to make sense of new information
who I am to everyone else
what I represent to my children by marriage
where in the world do I get the nerve to think
when the answer seems so obvious
how can I continue to live in this place
why did I choose this –

important lessons are rarely smooth

looking back at the written word I am transported
she five, and I fresh in my sobriety
unsure and uneasy
both of us.
contemplating the damage of a second 10 year absence
I put the phone down
and reflect on my options
at the very least
I have time

jumping to stump speechify
my eyes cast upon a darkened horizon
locusts and tsunami
sahara dust storm 1000 miles wide
stretching into the stratosphere
engorged on the land laid out before
fattened and grotesque
the words spew forth
slime coated and green
sickeningly sweet to inferior ears
tales of bigotry and fascism
are spread on the common core classrooms
like molasses
giving everything a hue of diarrhea
**** water paint job
gleaming teeth of innocent school babes
tainted by the lies
and unrealized potential
a nation sits in its **** and waits
for anyone to extend a hand –