I am The Shoes of Shoes,
which are Solomon’s. Let him polish
me with the oil from his brow, for his gloss
is better than sunshine.

Because of the fragrance of thy ointment buffed
upon me, thy name
is Scent Shine, therefore do the ****** shoes
love thy feet. Stretch me,
with your Shoe-Tree, and I will run
& rejoice with thy feet through
gardens & woods, and across mountains alike.

I am leather, but comely, O ye Daughters
of Shoeshopingham, as The Pile Beneath
the Prophesised Viaduct, and as in the abundant
bottom of The Wardrobe of Solomon.

Look not upon me, because I am leather,
but put me upon thy feet for I
am thy soles.

I am the Rose of Shoe, and the Lilly of The Laces.

As the strong shoes among thorns, so
is my love among The Shod.
As the tongue that tightens to the fruit of the foot, so is
my beloved among The Shod.
His left foot is in my left purse, and his right
foot is my right, tight.
The Polish of My Beloved, behold, cometh
glinting off llyns, he cometh leaping upon
the mountains, with both of me tight on his feet.

Looketh fourth through The Round Window
of Wisdom, through The Lattice see
him shoeing himself with my flesh.

Take us the socked foxes, the little foxes that chew & spoil,
for our shodding is tender.
My Loved Shod’s feet are mine and my leather is his.
Until the day break, and the unshod shadows flee, turn
my Loved Shod, and be thou like the shoe young on the mountains.

Behold, thou art fair, my shoes, behold thou art shoes as fast
as a flock of goats over the Mountain of Shoedon.
Thy laces are like soft strands of moss, which have been spun
& woven in the Workshops of Acorns by The Grubs of Oak.
Thy eyelets are like the sweet slots in which nestle
the seeds of the pomegranate.
Thy tongues are like scarlet leaves fallen from speaking
trees, and thy squeak as I walk in thee is comely.
Thy heal is like the shield that should’ve been
fashioned for Achilles.
Thy two toe caps are as sleek & pert as the twin otters
that fish among the lilies.
How beautiful are thee, shoes for feet, O Goddess’s daughters,
the joints of thy soft foot-slot smooth as the gleam
of jewels, the work of the hands of a cunning cobbler.

O Solomon set me twin shoes as seals
upon thy feet, for Love is as strong
as The Road to Dead we must follow. O
my Loved Shod! for every one
of thy steps you make

in me is my bliss.

"The population is expected to level off at around nine billion," says my father
A nearly full plate of Thanksgiving feast food in front of him
but he has been asked to pontificate which is what he does best
and I hear a tremor in his voice like I have when I teach
I know he is in the throws of excitement about what he's saying
planning for his keynote in Brazil, and what plant scientists can do
to help save us from global warming and the lack of water since there isn't
even two liters of fresh water for every person on the planet for use every day at seven billion
I gesture as to what two liters looks like  and my mother snaps "I know what two liters is!"

It's cold in here, in this large Oakland short sale house that fits my cousin's family
and my Aunt downstairs, where I like it better because the children aren't there
Like two houses put together and there are no carpets just hard wood floors and
open windows that make it cold and it is anything but warm and fuzzy
My Aunt is angry with me that I shop at Walmart but that's what I can afford
Tomorrow she's holding a strike at a Walmart with her daughter which makes them superior to me
She's also mad because I don't like my "Union" which does nothing for me since I'm not tenured
"You have to organize" she condescends, like that is a reasonable thing with my one and two year stints at schools but she is the big Union Head for CSU so she should know
She was on TV with Jerry Brown after all, so what do I know
The kids are noisy since they all have their own phone and can play anything they
want at any time in addition to turning on the myriad of TVs and radios and stereos in the house
and the noise ricochets off he hard cold floors and walls that have pictures on them
of people from the family, but they don't look quite like they belong
and they hang there uncomfortably and self consciously
There is every skin tone except deep black at the table
My family--all that is left

Childhood: I loved going to my mother's family in Idaho
It was hot in summer or cozy warm inside in winter and
a wonder land outside for snow shoeing and skiing
It was quiet and they always had wall to wall carpet
I rolled from one end of the room to another in it the first time I felt it
It was warm and fuzzy.  
People listened and there were breaks from noise and chaos

Here, every conversation is disjointed like we are going
in and out of different time periods and different petty rivalries and
fierce competitions under it all and families are blending and being
torn apart and the latest one has formed from "OK Cupid" online
and my Aunt has to be right, the smart one, the good one, the one of the people
and it is so cold, so very cold, and the windows are opened to let in more
cold Oakland air as if there isn't enough of it and all the sounds of
kids and electronics are driving me slowly insane

What can plant scientists do to help nine billion people
without water?  Not a whole lot, except invent crops that
survive like camels, or can live underwater like fish
since everything will be either dry or deluged with water
and I wish there was carpeting, warm carpeting and less
noise and more harmony
and this is the family I have now
the old one is gone, like the glaciers that will melt all at last
and the rivers that will run dry forever.
And I think: what we need to do is invent a way to make water
Make enough water for everyone, maybe from recycled bags or used Nike shoes
and if we can do that, maybe the air in this house will warm
and it will become quieter and the hard wood floors will become soft and warm and fuzzy
and I will feel at home here, with my family

He bought them from his cousin
they were shiny black and new
the man was doing business
and at a fair price too.

Well they looked like patent leather
reflecting back, he smiles
he wore them out to church
and had put on several miles.

One day the skies grew darker
and the rain began to splatter
the drops absorbed into the shoes
well not a sight was sadder

For the shoes were made of paper
and his cousin bought the stock
from a man who made his livin'
shoeing feet that used to walk.

The business had been slowing
at God's Shoe store for the Saints
though reports were never glowing
he rarely got complaints.

I am told my father's cousin
owned a bar on Irving Street
and fitted many customers
while they still had living feet.

Many of the regulars
brought back their soggy shoes
I am sorry but there's no returns
can I pour you up some *****?

He bought them from his cousin
they were shiny black and new
the man was doing business
and at a fair price too.

Well they looked like patent leather
reflecting back, he smiles
he wore them out to church
and had put on several miles.

One day the skies grew darker
and the rain began to splatter
the drops absorbed into the shoes
well not a sight was sadder

For the shoes were made of paper
and his cousin bought the stock
from a man who made his livin'
shoeing feet that used to walk.

The business had been slowing
at God's Shoe store for the Saints
though reports were never glowing
he rarely got complaints.

I am told my father's cousin
owned a bar on Irving Street
and fitted many customers
while they still had living feet.

Many of the regulars
brought back their soggy shoes
I am sorry but there's no returns
can I pour you up some *****?

Do you see the caricatures neath the full moon pines
The ghost of General McIntosh , spirits of Creek hunters along
the river brush
Old Timers whittling song flutes from bottom cane
Farrier's shoeing mules , work horses straining at the
crack of the whip , ferryboats treading shoals across the
foggy Flint
The voices of children in one room schoolhouses
The rousing , morning bell of little towns , the clap
of field wagons
A fiddler sawing a piedmont 'Rag'
The rustle of picking field peas with Croaker bags

They say love at first sight
does not exist.
But…. it does …..it does….I know.

I think I was 18 at the time
It was 1990 in Mexico
At first she was only a picture on a poster.
I was learning Spanish
And the old movie theatre
in the small town
Was showing movies
of the golden era of Mexican films

On the billboard was her picture
I saw her for the first time
My young heart beat in my chest.
In. All my days I had never
Seen such a beautiful woman

Then I saw her movie
She filled the silver screen
Shining like the star she was.
I stayed and watched the movie again.
By the end of the night I was in love.
Indelibly connected to her.

Research showed me she was born
In 1902 reality told me she was 88
Still she would not leave my heart.
For the next year I watched every movie
She ever made again and again

I carried her picture by my heart
in my breast pocket.
Always so in love with her.
I tried dating other ladies
my own age they were lovely…
but. ….they were not her.

Then one day I read  small editorial
About her in a Spanish newspaper.
It spoke of her beauty and many movies
and her impact on the Mexican film.
It also said she lived a quiet life in the
country outside of Boston.

The old car I drove
all I could afford
on a Spanish teachers salary
It finally made it through
the fifteen hundred mile trip.
And I arrived at the tiny cottage
With Boston ivy growing on its facade.
The fall colors of new England
shone in the late autumn sunlight.

Suddenly there I was only
a few footsteps from the woman
I was helplessly in love with.
I knocked gently on the front door.
Then she opened it
she was young and beautiful

How  could this be.?
I stuttered nervously
I have been in love with you
for 10 years.
She looked at me unsure.
But I don't know you
she answered softly.

I carry your picture
close to my heart I said
shoeing her her perfect likeness.
She laughed
oh that is my grandmother.

She allowed me in
I met her at last.
She was still beautiful
Even  in the ravages of old age.
So regal and elegant.

I confessed my whole story to her
As I noticed her granddaughter
Observing me.

Two years later

We introduced the twins
to their great grandmother
She smiled and knew
that in some small way
She had starred
In her last romance

*** it,
I should be on a beach
with a satchel full of stars
teaching
oysters how to reach for the sky
and
what am I doing?
shoeing horses for sixpence,

working for a pittance
is worse than the temperance
society.