July 4th
The beer rolls over my tongue
before it waves over my mind
gently because it's been a long time
and everyone is napping
The world is in first gear
working to get off the dime
from a surprise stop-sign
octagonal red
It makes the bog sleepy
and that's how I like it
the hammock in the garden
while the tomatoes try to set fruit
But I don't like why it's sleepy
or the knees on the necks
of good people
Goddamn I'm Thin
My emotions stretched out
drawn around the posts and signs
pulling tighter
To bounce with a pop
but damnit don't break
Singing
The sapsucker sang at the peak of the roof
carelessly ignoring me
and most all of humanity
only grateful for a high perch
Spring
Spring hasn't sprung but it's getting closer
seeds in the ground marks my season
sun on the porch and the songs of robins and sparrows
We're all home now, like the old days before cars
and in each other's space
and I can't stretch my legs enough except
When I haul the lumber to the garden
knees in soft soil, dark brown and caked
sweat falling off my face
bruises on my shoulders
Bare new kiln dried wood smells like work
and new things
But the bog will eat it over time
and until then
It will hold back the canary grass
While seeds are sewn
February Rain
Glossy faceted lights
halogen and filament and led
poke and bounce around the gray sky
the crystal clear drops clinging to windows are
gemstones in the gravel
taste of the wind
in my nose
seasalt
Silk
It happens fast
and you don't know it
because you're the frog
and not the cook
The sled runs downhill
like it's on rails
but it doesn't
cook that way
And the brakes burn
acrid ozone
in your nose
but you crank into the turn
The sky was purple this morning
Just a little pink
and the glow on the horizon
Through the late fall branches
stripped bare by the wind
My country is dull yellow and grey now
it's the mountains and sound
in my ears of rain
The hills are silhouette green
and the flooded fields bright
Just a little reflection among the ducks
of the clouds through false dawn
woke by a damp sun
My country is dull yellow and grey now
it's the mountains and sound
in my ears of rain
My ride bumps along while the caffein
flows through my veins
And the window refracts and reflects
my thoughts as much as the landscape
And the flooded fields with their ducks
My country is dull yellow and grey now
it's the mountains and sound
in my ears of rain
My country is dull yellow and grey now
The rain never stops
Fall Fell
Fall was a bigleaf maple leaf
on a main branch green stemmed born in spring
spent all summer on her task
sending her work back to the trunk
until she grew old
In retirement her shoulders golden
spreading all over
Until with her family she lit the tree alive
before the air turned cold
before the wind came
Until one day
She knew she was done
and longed for the ground
let go
Gliding down stem-first
pirouetting in the air
Riding the wind
with a shawl upon her back
Write on my Coffin
Like they did for Grandpa that day I wore red
saw it too
Make the words scrawl instead of neat
no fonts or serifs
Let them be hard to read on the pine wood
rough cut and not sanded
Because I want to go back to ashes and dust
let your words go too
My memory will be the taste of well grown fruit
the mineral taste of venison
The smell of the dust in the air before the lightening starts
and the drops fall down
Heavy and pendulous like life itself
landing finally home, in the grass or in the dirt,
before being taken up again
to fall over and over and over
Sediment
Seabeds and valleys layer cocomino
fossils in between and ephemera written in glyphs on rocks
Over time slow
A soul is sedimentary layered emotion
spark and life in the middle
Perceptions filtered and bands lay on
time the stream washes them away
And they lay on again
Thinner is brittle
so gather as much as you can
Let the pressure make it stronger
so the water and sand will only polish the solid rock