Faith, Fascination, Fun

* * *

100530

FAITH IN THE OUTCOME

Duck, the second of the pair,
was quacking mid-road
near the body of its mate.

It did not retreat when I approached
to remove the other’s body
or even when vehicles whisked by.
When I left, it followed me—
by then, we were both quacking.

The pavement was hot,
so I walked us toward a patch
of shade and grass.
There I sat, cross-legged,
while duck nibbled weeds,
and sampled me with its bill—
taking great interest in shoes
and rings—till it eventually
settled on the grass for a nap.

I considered our options.

No point in delaying.
I rose and quickly walked away,
trusting in nature and instinct
to make the proper resolution,
not daring to look back—
until, of course, I did.

Duck was quacking mid-road.


100529

EVERYTHING

Wow.


UNIVERSALL

Each. All.
Every. One.

Within, without
and under the sun—
every doing
is a being-done.


100528

PREP TALK

“Work. Work out.”
That’s my code.
Time to go; gotta carry my load.
Here’s where the rubber
meets the road.

Can’t stay here
like a big fat toad.
Gotta get my butt on the road.
Here’s where the blubber
meets the road!


UMBRELLA (for Lisa)

Today was only foggy—
but better safe than soggy!


BUSHED

Feeling unergetic today.

(That’s a real word;
I’m too tired to make one up.)


100527

TO BELIEVE, BELIEVE

The story
of the mustard seed
is somehow mustard-treed.

Would you believe—
a mustard tree?
Never seen one!
Can it be?

There is one thing
I believe:
it takes faith,
that mustard-seed creed.


BE-LOVE-ED

The rising of the land.
The sinking of the sea.
The epoch of each creature;
its brief ascendancy.

Gaia, what have I to offer
but rough humanity?
As long as you are loved,
it needn’t be by me.


SEEK AND BE FOUND

What is it that you seek?
...To end, begin.
You are made in likeness.
...Look within.
You are the truth you speak.
...You are the answer you seek.


NOT YOUR KEEPER

Pardon me,
dear sir, dear ma’am—
do you take me for a fool
fool enough to give a damn?


LITTLE BO PEEP
AND SHEPHERD BOY

“Your debt is due,
but I’ll steer clear
of lambs and rams.
May I take a ewe?”

“Hardly, ma’am—
that will not do!
Frankly, my dear,
I don’t give a dam.”


CANADIANS

Geese ahead, and flying low.
I have yet to see them, though;
fog is rising from the lake.

I stand alert at water’s edge,
as the fog turns more opaque,
to wait the coming of the wedge.

No sooner do the geese appear
than their wedge must split or veer.

With whoosh of wings,
they rise instead,
passing barely overhead,
startled at the sight of me
flapping arms in mimicry.


[ASIDE: I took liberties with the truth.
The geese saw me from a greater distance;
their wedge was already broken, and it passed
on either side of me, but barely overhead.
The wing-whoosh sound was impressive.
Of course, the most prominent aspect of the
fly-by was the sound of their honking; I hope
you supplied it.]


100526

AINA NANI

If age is just a state of mind,
one I can embrace,
let mine be Hawaii
or some equal state of grace.


CAREER

If nursery rhymes don’t warp you
toward life as a poet,
cartoons might, to your sorrow.

I trace my happy affliction to
Popeye’s cartoon segment,
"Hair today. Goon tomorrow."


HI SIGN

There’s nothing
regarding a poem
that you ought to do.

Each one's just a pointer
to the poet inside of you.


OBSESSION

First you pursue.
Then it does you.


FAME? ACCLAIM?

Thank you, no,
I’m not quite ready
for adventure
half so heady.


100525

POEM PLACE

A patch of white
serene as snow
beckons, teases
as it pleases—
and it pleases
me to know
a patch of white
serene as snow.


SCRAM!

Go away—
go find yourself
some other prey.

Go away—
or I’ll get rough;
you’re not so tough.

Go away—
you’ve scavenged
on me long enough!


A DASH MIGHT DO

May I use
a comma, momma?
I hate to be behol’en,
even to a semicolon.


BUMFUZZLED

If there’s a school
for being old,
in it I’m a baby
looking for a nanny:
a mixed-up fool—
feeling like a girl,
acting like a lady,
looking like a granny.


I DIDN’T WANT ANY PART OF IT

You don’t want to know.

There on the page where I smashed it
are tick juices—dried, of course—
some body parts, and a strand of cat hair.
The smash took the shape of a flea.
(I said you didn’t want to know.)

Now you know.
How would you have handled it?


WHAT?

I find what I see.

What do I see?
What I’m looking for.

What am I looking for?
What I see—
familiar things and surprises.

What else is there?


END OF
HOSTILITIES

Surely
there will
come a day
when we can meet
as mates and play.


TRIBUTE

As from this life
I do depart,
I salute
my faithful heart.


INVENTORY
OF A HALF-HOUR

striped mushroom parasols

woodpecker riddling a power pole
(just keeping in practice?)

first Cherokee rose of spring

rock? dead squirrel? shoe

deformed Queen Anne’s lace
really another type of flower

bulldozer parked in woods

hidden meadow

shoe mate


RALLY TALLY

Just as the task force
was about to collapse
from the exhaustion of
negotiating difficult topics
and diverse opinions,
it narrowly averted
both delusion and demise:
it came to its consensus.


DEAL

I think of life as a poker game
(people, places and things—
especially ideas and insights—
these are the cards).
I’m always trading up.


[UNTITLED]

Even when it rains,
you worry over ducks and frogs,
not to mention lakes, seas, bogs.

[Twitter challenge issued by @MyWordWizard:
flesh out the opening “Even when it rains, you. . .”]


SKIES CLEARING

Kokopeli serenading a cactus;
two white elephants
with trunks entwined;
a big-lipped moose
riding a hippopotamus—
yippee-i-o!
Also—beyond the far hills,
mountains of snowcapped rubble.
And all I had to do was look up.


100524

YOUR PROBLEM

Just because you
contributed to it
doesn’t mean you
can’t ask for help.


JOURNAL

Reading back,
my life appears to be made up
of intertwined recurrent themes—
various animals appearing
or demising near roadways;
reactions to solar, lunar
and household events;
weather;
existential, psychospiritual
and literary musings;
discovery, frustration and fun.
Not bad.


* * *

Purple Prose and Poetry

* * *

100328

WRITERS OF THE PURPLE SAGE—

Ornate excess, clichés, and slang
overload the whole shebang.
Who can tame the purple page?
Who can spur your words to fly?

When you just can’t get the hang,
hang out with the Zane Grey gang—
masters of the purple sage;
sage “Guest Writers in the Sky."


100328

SURFACE FLAWS

With the touch of a wand
in those anti-wrinkle ads,
facial lines appear or disappear
to age or rejuvenate a face.

While personhood remains intact
behind placid model eyes,
skin conditions
condition perceptions.

Thankfully, the peekaboo
reveals how easily
even these mistakes can be undone;
with the touch of a wand.


100327

SHARED LUNCH

I knew what was up
the minute he proposed shopping
at straight-up noon.

Braum’s is the kind of place
where you can get
bananas and bread
along with your burgers and fries.

Half a loaf
went to the ducks
at the pond by the library.

The geese, Canadians,
barely deigned to sample.
The mallards grazed
but didn’t gobble.
It’s spring—
they have other things
on their minds.


100326

WHAT A DEAL!

I do my part;
he does his.
Mine involves
the shopping list.


ANSWER

There is an answer.
There is always an answer.
The only time
there is no answer
is when you pre-conclude
there is no answer.


* * *

Birds and Bard (Dr. Seuss)

* * *

100302

THEODORABLE (for Carrie)

Happy Birthday, Dr. Seuss!

To you, I raise a glass of juiess,
saluting what your words prodeuss—
fun and joy that tame abeuss.
Thank you, Engine! Signed, Cabeuss.


PORTAL

When you choose
an opposite way;
when you lose your bearings,
all that you bear, and all
that has borne you;
when you cast yourself out—
as you exit the city gate, notice.

The little bird
hidden in the bush
beside your path
still sings for you
its melody of kindness.


100301

CONSIDER THE BIRDS

Consider the birds;
their value is immense.
Consider the world
with no insect defense.

One recent spring
bugs arrived early,
birds arrived late—
an incipient pestilence
slow to abate.

Consider the world
with yearly such springs.
Consider the world
with no birds in the wings.


“CATHARTES AURA”

When is a buzzard
not a buzzard?
When it never was!
(That’s the buzz. )

Europeans decry our
lack of orni-culture.
Hawk, they claim, is buzzard.
(Our buzzard is their vulture.)


* * *