I've just noticed, 
as I looked up from writing poetry,
A magpie purchased on the high back 
of one of my outdoor setees, 
Staring smack at me 
as I sculpt words.
Fixed, it holds itself still, measured.
Scheming its next swoop;
Taking in my features, 
I was a moving target.

I wish I was a shaman
Protection for my people
Somewhere near the forest
Nowhere near the steeple

But I'm just bipolar
Take my medication
Quiet in the night
Parental dedication

UFOs, what are those?
Extrasolar water
Hope for my sons
Prayers for her daughters

               Astrobiology!

I was in Italy once
Just about a week
Florence, Siena, Rome
I miss Susan Meek

My life is very boring
Try to make it through
Susan's hair is black
But her eyes are midnight blue

                  It's true.

tokyo holds
tightly then slowly unfolds

its maple reds and ginko golds
well into the december colds

the crows of sapporo
so

easy through the falling snow
call out the truths we already know

Alcohol.
And train schedules.
A commuter's tightrope.
The last stop, Hpnotiq.
Where it rains sadness.
Where they're numb
To the moment of inertia.
Preferring instead to
Live on the rim.