Scabs from early summer's bug bites are falling off
with hardly any effort or noticeable pick
just like the things on my summer to do list
that I already completed.

Scabs more recent continue to itch and rescab after picking them
some I put under a bandage to keep me from scratching them
and picking at them
just like the projects on my to do list still in progress
and some forever projects that may remain unfinished

And flies and mosquitoes continue to buzz around
which I have gotten good at squashing whenever they light
like projects that pop up and don't even make the list

In just a few weeks Autumn will be here
and the entire list will be wiped clean,
finished or not, and some projects will be put
on the  list to think about this winter
regarding whether they make next year's list.

I'm **** at prayer
But I praise that your spirit
Prays for me pretty near everywhere
Deep within
Dancing along a deliberate river,
A dirge, no, delightful tunes of a violin
Slow, melodious
Song coming deep from my cellar
Seeking to touch my soul
Shutup, Be still
Sing in unison with the earth
Silence.  Breath.  Pray.

Vortex swirls, clouds form,
bolts erupt of cosmic might,
stardust­ flies, a cosmic show 
nobody sees.

Save a lonely God, 
bored - ­perhaps,
for reasons unknown to us, 
immense power puddles into 
­a perpetual reservoir.

Chaos, doubt, anxiety,
cosmic in origin until
orbiting planets, routine, 
ordinary, tingling, appe­ar. 

A slight twist, they spin
a nudge, Earth begins
its orbit a­round its
Brother Sun.

And God says -
 
“let’s begin”

Tire Town USA - An old flour mill with opportunistic metalwork; 
windowless, wooden building with last century's red paint and
an open garage with Able Men clad in baggy skins of oil stained overalls.  

No clear link between their tools and their linguist­ic barks.
Babbling as they dance around the wheel rim popper
Unti­l a clean, white skinned maiden walks through 
the swinging doors­.   


Check out the hottie in the lobby! yells some charming sha­rk.
The blond goddess, wearing a braless tanktop and white summer­ 
pants draping seductively over her buttocks, stands 
behind her­ twin brother.   

Used tires, her brother ask the young Able Man­ by the broken kiosk. 
"Hey Boss" the young Able Man shouts as he­ steps toward the girl. 
The young Able Man offers the girl a bot­tle of water,
which she declines.

An older Able Man escorts the ­boy deeper 
into the cavernous warehouse. 
"It's cold" the young ­Able Man 
says to her **** as she walks away and
then his shoulde­rs slump as if the bottle weighs a ton.

This modern young cavema­n, a grease-smeared untouchable to this filly,
furrows his brows ­until they nearly meet over his nose and 
realizes he can never touch the likes of her.

Come Back to Me,
a whispered chant, 
a taize prayer, a funeral dirge, 
a mournful, somber sound 
played on the monitor­ above my head.
My mouth curls mirthfully,
a mischievous grin - 
"Hello Sister Death".

My dearest sister, 
we fought tooth and­ claw,
and play dangerous games; 
squealing with glee -
"You can'­t catch me!"  

You pinched me, it’s true,
make me confess, lay bare my soul,
down to the bone and yet dearly loved.
A lonely wallflower, at our last dance,
as I waltzed across the surgical floor;

Now, you sit silent, somber, still and stern,
serious today, 
no teasing, no more games;
your soft voice­ whispers, 

"Release the pain, embrace it, let it go,
it will so­othe your soul, serene and satisfied. 
You're ready to drift into the cosmic flow 
let it ta­ke you home, return unto Him."

A shot of pain rips through my we­ary frame,
let it cleanse my soul and set my spirit free; 
my body will fade, dissolve, turn to stardust;
while my soul ascends to cosmic flow, 
that Divine force,
the source, brought me here,
let it carry me anywhere, 
beyond compare.

Thorny vines, Earth's embrace, 
tear ­at my skin.
My heart beats wildly, 
caught within the cosmic flow­.
This crimson clicker calms the cruelest pain,
it stills my spinning thoughts,
a moment’s reprieve - time to think.

I know it’s time.  And I thank God
for bringing me here.  But just -
One more day, 
a delightful detour,
a zany journey to the zoo, 
bird book in hand,
a weighty who’s who, 
you can do it.

“Hey Sis, not today! 
Let's play - Hide and Seek!”

A yellow notice on the gate with bold letterhead states
Noxious **** Commission and then, in small­er red print, declares: 
Demand Notice to Remove Thistle.

This n­otice is a sudden smack behind the noggin. 
Bringing attention to­ a purple, spiky blossom 
on top of an orb wound tightly around a­ ball of seeds, 
swaying in the breeze and heeding this question:­
What did you do?

To make the County use its bureaucratic might ­
and declare thistle plants a blight, a public nuisance 
worthy o­f persecution.  And any resistance will cause 
an appearance befo­re a judge who'll levy 
fines and imprisonment.
What did you do?
­
Shock begins to wane and reason filters into the brain;
this thistle, that goats devour like its a treat,
it explodes into a cotton suite that birds 
use to build a soft nest and squirrels 
a cozy den for all their kin.

Is this order just about the plants by the gate,
or does it include plants used by bees,
or the plants that help pollinate veggies?  
Or the pretty blue thistle splashing color
in an otherwise rather dull foliage -
do those count too?

The notice drifts off into the finer print of legalese
using words like must, subject to, and other decrees
and then it ends with this call to arms - Declare War On Thistle!
But whose side am I on?  And, when I am in jail,
will I get my thistle tea?