Blue eyes, bald head, haggard skin...dead...
It was like a race
with a bet for her life if she lost
Her delicate figure encased by a
tortoises shell
but no match for the hare that
infects her blood
speeding through the race
...speeding through her life

But wait...
the hare slowed down,
taking a rest
letting her, the slow tortoise
gradually start to win this race
this fight

Steps from the finish line
steps from overcoming this battle
...whoosh...

She lost
Cancer won the race...and her life

**Dedicated to Carol MacPherson

Now I know why
tortoises move so
slow

eph you see kay etouffee if you see Kay tell her a catawampus catahoula hound hog dog crossed bayou levee last night all right what did you say if you see Kay tell her a catawampus catahoula hog dog crossed the levee last night all right i heard what you said the first time why you got to repeat eph you see kay you ******* ****** **** what? what did you say you ******* ****** **** heard you the first time you **** a **** a ***** a ***** hello stop end begin believe conceive create no thank you i already ate what? what did you say begin believe conceive create no thank you i already ate quit ******* repeating yourself  you ******* ******* hello stop end begin believe conceive create eph you see kay etouffee if you see Kay tell her a catawampus catahoula hog dog crossed the levee last night all right

the renown physicist dressed in brown wool suit brown leather laced shoes white shirt burgundy knitted tie wild curly graying hair climbed the stairs walked across the stage stood at the lectern adjusted narrow support pole height reached down into brown leather briefcase retrieved his thesis concerning the relative theory of everything tapped microphone composed his posture made a guttural sound clearing his throat looked out at packed full auditorium it became evident to the distinguished audience the renown physicist’s fly was open and his ***** hanging out it was unanimously dismissed as a case of professorial absent-mindedness

all the creatures of the earth (excluding humans) convened for an emergency session the bigger creatures talked first grizzly bears stood upright explaining demand for gallbladders bile paws make us more valuable dead than alive sharks testified Asian fisherman cut off our fins for soup then throw us back into the sea to die elephants thumping heavy feet stepped forward yeah poachers **** us for our tusks rhinos concurred yes they **** us for our horns wild Mustang horses neighed about violent round-ups then slaughtered processed for cat food whales complained of going deaf from submarine sonar tests then sold for meat many dolphins sea turtles tuna swordfish sea bass smaller fish swam forward pleading about getting caught in long line nets barbed baited hooks over-fished colonies chimpanzees described nightmares of being stolen from their mom’s when they are very young then used in research labs for horrible tests song birds chirped about loss of their habitats land tortoises spoke in gentle voices about being wiped out for housing developments saguaro cactuses dropped their arms in discouragement masses of penguins solemnly marched in suicidal unison to edge of melting icebergs polar bears and seals wept honey bees buzzed colony collapse disorder bats flapped about white nose syndrome coyotes and wolves howled lonesome prairie laments the session grew gloomy with heart-wrenching unbearable sadness sobbing crying then a black mutt dog spoke up my greyhound brothers and sisters and all my family of creatures i sympathize with your hurt but it is important to realize there are people who care love us want to protect us not all humans are ravenous carnivores or heartless profiteers a calico cat crept alongside black dog and rubbed her head against his chest an old gray mare admitted her love for a race horse jockey who died years ago a bluebird sang a song suddenly lots more creatures advanced with stories of human kindness Captain Paul Watson Madeleine Pickens Jane Goodall a redwood tree named Luna testified about Julia Butterfly Hill the winds clouds sky discussed concerns by Al Gore lots and lots of other names were mentioned and the whole tone of the meeting changed every one agreed they needed to wait and see what the next generation of people would do whether humans would acknowledge the cruelties threats of extinction and learn grow figure out ways to sustain mother earth father sky then the meeting let out just as the sun was rising on a new day

there is a cemetery in Paris named Père Lachaise buried there are the remains of Jim Morrison Oscar Wilde Richard Wright Karl Appel Guillaume Apollinaire Honoré de Balzac Sarah Bernhardt the empty urn of Maria Callas Frédéric Chopin Colette Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot Nancy Clara Cunard Honoré Daumier Jacques-Louis David Eugène Delacroix Isadora Duncan Paul Éluard Max Ernst Suzanne Flon Loie Fuller Théodore Géricault Yvette Guilbert Jean Ingres Clarence Laughlin Pierre Levegh Jean-François Lyotard Marcel Marceau Amedeo Modigliani Molière Yves Montand Pascale Ogier Christine Pascal Édith Piaf Marcel Proust Georges Seurat Simone Signoret Gertrude Stein Louis Visconti Maria Countess Walewska and many other extraordinary souls it is rumored at late dusk their ghosts climb from graves gather drink fine brandy from costly crystal glasses smoke fragrant cigars and once a year on November 2 party hard all night culminating in deliriously promiscuous ****** **** it’s difficult to know what the truth is since the dead don’t talk or do they

My sister dreams of flying tortoises,
cockatoos and parrots flapping in a
perfect randomness. She watches
from the porch of her cabin on the lake,
strangely grown into a manor, and recalls
the promise of someone soon returning from
a time on the water. The tortoises make her think
of portobello mushroom caps, frayed and black
against the stainless blue. She wonders what this means,
this tumbling opulence, this message in the night that my sister dreams.

It's all my fault that I said nothing
But it's not my fault that you said no

It's all my fault that I always no
but it's not my fault they never say nothing

but at the rate that the world is moving
and despite this state that I'm in
I still managed to stop moving
long enough to be trampled by tortoises
and I somehow managed to be missed by the stampede

Sometimes I wish the turtles would get off of my back
because they crawl so slow
and time begins to ache

Sometimes I wish the stampede would target me
and the last thing I would see is a violent crowd
but I still imagine a mirage behind the mob

I have an invitation for the turtles;
they can sleep on my back.

Safe from stormy icy cold
from stars sheltered too below
a wish I am
to my captive be
all this thou provideth me

The ice breaker tows us in
sweet lies lavished
beneath our skin
mothered
fathered
dear!!!

Dear ravaged
bitter sweet
lovingly deceived
tucked into sheets
from teddy bear
to milky squeezed
thigh soothing
the life that's oozing

**** a doodle
screeching out in fright
of little egg
earnest yearning
heeding calling
of thee other will
spontaneity
river spawning

No time for times sake

Not a one
would be
mistaken

Only the shrunken
fear forsaking

Run hare run
way out
out
beyond sight
of the knowing
knowing though
scent lingers
in the nose
of the tortoise
and tortoises
whom are stalking

Run run
has gotten far
hid from heaven
spinning faulty
stars heathen
tales of yore
which simply
just keep moving

But delight
is
a wedding cake
in a heart
you can see
taste
taste the spin
of spinning me

Dance too
to the rhythms
and beatings
of sticks
****** quick
to the depths
of your last breath
of the last breathing

Our hearts
the rhythm

Ones soul

The beating
of skin

On our drums

the panther eats a poor bunny,
the panther gets sat on a by a hippo
the hippo swallows a tortoise and chokes
the vulture gets fed

the tress grow and the grass grows and eggs hatch and get ate by tortoises

which the panther loves and the hippo tromps on
and still
the vultures feast

which fertilizes the grasses the trees
which makes them grow and the tortoises
fall in love a nd **** and climb onto beaches
hatch thousands of eggs that the panther eats and the hippo
wallowing blindly fat through the fertilized long grass munching
steps on the panther again
then breaks her leg in the muck and dies
again the vultures
feast.


and the smart bunny, who noticed, had run away to the country
where Brer Rabbit had founded a commune for poor about to be eaten Rabbits. There they raised together carrots in a field in a country where there were no panthers tortoises or hippos.
Only to find this place had foxes who feasted on well fed rabbits.
And the Fox found there were quick bears who loved a nibble of fox. And men, great men with guns that could take down many number of bears in one day. And the vultures feasted.

I'm paying tribute to one of the finest Poets I know, Tony Hoagland. He recently passed away from Pancreatic Cancer at 64 years young. This is one my  absolute favorites and I believe you'll love it also.*

Romantic Moment


After the nature documentary we walk down,
into the plaza of art galleries and high end clothing stores

where the mock orange is fragrant in the summer night
and the smooth adobe walls glow fleshlike in the dark.

It is just our second date, and we sit down on a rock,
holding hands, not looking at each other,

and if I were a bull penguin right now I would lean over
and ***** softly into the mouth of my beloved

and if I were a peacock I’d flex my gluteal muscles to
***** and spread the quills of my cinemax tail.

If she were a female walkingstick bug she might
insert her hypodermic proboscis delicately into my neck

and inject me with a rich hormonal sedative
before attaching her egg sac to my thoracic undercarriage,

and if I were a young chimpanzee I would break off a nearby treelimb
and smash all the windows in the plaza jewelry stores.

And if she was a Brazilian leopardfrog she would wrap her impressive
tongue three times around my right thigh and

pummel me lightly against the surface of our pond
and I would know her feelings were sincere.

Instead we sit awhile in silence, until
she remarks that in the relative context of tortoises and iguanas,

human males seem to be actually rather expressive.
And I say that female crocodiles really don’t receive

enough credit for their gentleness.
Then she suggests that it is time for us to go

to get some ice cream cones and eat them.

Let’s go to an antimatter universe
Where hot ice solidifies
Under the black light of the freezing sun.
A world where short giraffes hide beneath
The tall grass, amongst low trees.
See those high plains, watery deserts and low mountains.
Slow flies crawl over red skies
As turtles and tortoises speed around.
Here, hot sun is an oxymoron
And everything is downside up.

Or if you prefer we could visit a realm
Like on “Red Dwarf”
Where time flies backwards:
People formed from dusty death
To live and grow youthful
On the way to an inevitable birth
And death again
When parental **** parts from *****.

Paul Butters

Testudo. The Turtle forms, we

Stand. Hunker down under your shield/my shield
Now and then shifting smartly left or right to ****/hate
the enemy.

Could it be
Enemies you love?

Ought not so to be.
Something's wrong,
the Turtle's misformed, deformed, in form

the center cannot hold...

And that was the lesson, war don't make things better,
ever.

Nobody, God Almighty included,
ever looked on war's results,
at a human-dirt level, and said "That's good."

If I am average,
I may make certain assumptions based on self evidence,
things mine own eyes witnessed, as it seemed.

I can stand ready to give answers to every challenge to the faith.
(Stipulation, mine, the faith
That is in me.)
I cannot so stand for the faith that is in you.

Rise to the challenge.
It’s your faith you’re defendin’,
I got mine covered.

Your hate shan’t hinder me, I shan’t let it.
Letters can naught contain.
Your hate has not to gain. Spell o' respect,

on you. R E S P E C T find out what it mean.
D I V O R C E, curse on you.
Spell o' bitter'n average stupid in yo' mouth.

Tammy and Aretha walzin' wit Matilda,
put a spell, on you, onus ennui, pay attention, fool.

Gainsay that.

Beyond the shell of your belief is all that’s called unbelievable,
Beyond the bubble of all you know is all you don't.
Simple to sublime.

Here’s this deal:
Your fair share of everything,
in return for nothing. Grace for grace.
Take it or leave it, makes me no nevermind.

Thank you, Knower of all, for what's granted.

You could stop there if that were your childhood prayer routine.

Amen makes it so.

A command from the bridge, “Make it so, Mr. Solo.”

Testudo.
This tortoise may bear the weight of the world, but

Can we believe it?
Standing on such tortoises all the way down?

Ready. Sistere.
(Google it, f’Cry’sake. E’en scientologists know
you gotta know what the words mean
when you read ’em or hear ’em or say ’em.) Define yer term.

Lies powerless, the idle word, bleeding from the wounds,
redeem them all. Sense and sensibility,
Pride and pre-
judging
next, like yo judgment changes the future.

Sistere's the command to stand
given prior to the command to form Testudo,
the Roman version of the tortoise
military engineering adaptation
young Alex used to maul
Persian  shieldwalls. A human tank, back then.

Wallbuilders! Sistere.
Shield of faith.
We have the mind anointed for the appointed time.

Build another wall, or we will loose the mob,
after the futbol game.

Can you believe that?
Test u do, then wait.

Cool, it’s shady under such a cloud of witnesses.

As a child, the 80 acres seemed like the whole world, with its ponds and streams and sunlit meadows.
It looked like Eden to my young eyes.
I chased the lambs and dragonflies, caught tortoises and toads.
The banks of the streams looked like cliffs to me, as I watched the suspended shadows of the bluegill in the water below.

With July's on broil, I found shade beneath a black locust tree, and tried to figure out, how I could use the thorns as fish hooks, to catch dinner for the night.
Evening set the sky on fire and the clouds were all a blaze.
Passion found me early, so much land, and nothing but time.

Then dusk turned gently into night and the summer Moon looked sad, like a giant porch light left on, for a lover that's never coming home.
As I lay in bed the cicadas buzz tucked me in, and from the pond came to bullfrog sad song, and I knew he was lonely like me.

Ornamental graves set like feasts
                                                                             for unfaithful lovers,
                   the broke marrow of virtuous phantasms,
                                                                      now swaddled rapture
                                                                      chanted as basilisk verses.
                                           Scarred Alice wraps it around
                                                             torn limbs--
                                               festering gauze--the cynical made anew.

                         "Creation moves," the gluttonous moper speaks again,
                                                     "to erase itself."
                                            Alice's children blasts
                                            the afterlife caboose
                                            to the front of the freight
                                           --saeculum saeculorum--

               "Wake again and again
                          without ghosts and wrath,
                                 dear children." The wind whispers their souls
                      back to her--"the molding of men
                      and women attend to sponge the graves dry."

          They will raise themselves
                            --chanting the basilisk verses,
                mother Alice
                               departs her children twice
                      to the corridors of rose fields
                      in her naked cloud.

                                                    "Come back, dear mother...."
                                                    "Come back, dear mother..."
                                                                               they chant,
                                                     "Your salted epitaph
                                                        still lingers in our throats."

            Not fit there
                   or here.
           Nowhere, Miss, nowhere--

                                     Sin is the party
                                           that doesn't die
                                  and neither does the health
                                               of lyrical sand.

                              --Floaters like discontent
                                         Alice,
                                     recreate the world,
                                  --our world with
                                 pastels and finger-paints
                doodles on Arlington headstones
                                             --messages for our ear bones
                                             --disasters on eleven
                 turning stones roll over--tortoises play dead
                                                            but whisper,
                                               "Clergy cerebral
                                                 won't wisp away
                                                  beds of jewels.
                              I pity people who think
                                          themselves powerful.

                    "Frost-bit devices dilate
                   like the hands of a watch
                          tearing time apart with
                     rusty blades.  

                                                                                      "Counting fingers--useless freedom
                                                                                                                     --bothersome slavery."

         Alice knows what the basilisk knows,
                              we would sacrifice
                              the only righteous heart in *****
                                                                           & Gomorrah
                                                                           to save
                           &n