The Sky is Mostly Cloudy, But the Sun Has Found A Hole

Some gin goes undrunk
Remains hidden long after
Eleven fingers have ceased
And Death has come and gone

Undrunk fire capped safe
Lay under wool and pine
For lips all day to part
And tips as light as day


-

The Back Room

On top of the woodstove,
the crust around the spout
of the black cast iron pot
feels like Winter to me.

The blue couch loves dark motion
and moons around the round
braided rug in short barks
all night.

Spinning in the air with
the sharp bite of woodsmoke
tiny rainbows arc
and dance with the sun.


-

June, Dead

I died on a ventilator, but the good news
is instant access to freedom unrelated
to excited visionaries, young lions,
zealots, wanted pass-times or having
a home. Listening to music (Killing
Joke) my morbid curiosity at the
ordinary neighbor's names and things
(art studios, beatboxes, catwalks, dressage)
caused extreme reaction in
underaged boys (runaway inflation),
whose steep grades and total domination
at this unbraided hour draws June's
demise to a quiet close desperation.


-

fragment

unhinged at spider's edge, the wall
valenced at the sky, the shadow
world ignited at dawn long before
Xerxes and Ramses and Darius
yearned nightly to be the sky formed
zealots they knew they should be


-

Why are you afraid?

Because there are scary monsters all over the place.

Because you really aren't good enough.

Because you are going to die.

Because none of it means anything.

Because you are weak.

Because you can't control anything.

Because everything controls you.

Because your god is angry and allows
                                                        weak
                                                                mean
                                                                        men
                                                          to be his

                                                             mouthpiece.

Because your god is a false god who can offer you no protection.

Because if there is a hell you are going to it.

Because your evil thoughts come from you.

Because you can't blame anything on anyone else.

Because everyone lies to you.

Because you can't stop lying.

Because you don't know what the truth is.

Because you cannot know what the truth is.

Because the truth makes you totally insignificant.

Because everything really is out to get you.

Because you don't ever know what's going on.

Because everything is always changing.

Because everything you love that is alive is going to die.

Because you can't do anything about that.

Because you are nothing but a bundle of fear.

-

Sport, Maybe Tennis

If
you
find yourself
at one end
rather than
at the other.

You could say it was just

that easy to read minds

and you would be right.

If

at the one

hand in nightmares

with shades drawn

the first craft would not be

left out of the rain for long.

Life

takes

alone from

your genes for

emotional support.


-

All There Is To Me

I might write a poem a day,
usually many at a time
and then a few a week.
I always think I should
put them up here
or send them off,
then I don't.
I still might,
but it's really not very important.
Life just streams on
with the butterflies
and the Summer breeze.
Sometimes I write stuff about it,
but what portion matters?
The part where life is streaming by is all there is.
I write or I do not.
I work or I do not.
My life is my love
is all there is to me,
and I can see the day
when it is not here
but the bees and the flowers
still nod with it.
I've never been here nor there.
There is no mark I can make that will last.
Summer is right now
whether I notice it or not,
make a note about it or not.
One thing may seem
better than another.
One way might.
I don't wish for any other life.


-