We’re very impressionable
Throw us into the middle of a different movie /dream
And we’d believe that too


Sequential
From one dream she
Fell, dreaming
Into another
believing all the while

Somnial roads (I did it myyyyy wayyyyy)

Square-cut niches, shelves in clay
Dusty window, cobwebbed, gray
In passages I traveled by myself at night
To get there my own underground way

(underground chambers now fallen in
or closed off by spiders
you can’t go that way again)

flat against the sky

hawk or buzzard, mistaken for eagle
until an osprey happens by
*
evenings the osprey go fishing over at the hatchery
uttering high-pitched eagle cries
*
at the cry
I looked first to the human
but it was impossible
it had to come from above
two osprey
turning wheels over the city

fellow light, so briefly shining

removed the gaze from her eyes
took the verve
and left us with this stiffness
this stillness
erect ears, body still clad
in perfect

we laid her in the ground

I have been reexamining
my attitude towards the ground

crow and raven notes

the tips of their wings
a little curl

sunlight with its long train
is shining on a glistening wet surface
*
young crow on asphalt, begging
following another
swinging its black tuxedo from side to side
*
crows to juvenile, a too-persistent child
still demanding to be fed
you can’t stay here
it’s a pair bond, not a benevolent society
*
cries building to this black confrontation,
feather-flap through branches and down into the grass
they are harassing their parents, begging raucously with open beaks

edge of the parking lot, in the puddle
one parent continues to fulfill his duty, wading in the water, showing them
here’s food

again I find myself asking the question
though I already know the answer
suppose one of theirs
won’t learn

sleep-walking

dissolves the light
from the stained-glass windows
the clash of battle subsides
from the bottom of the staircase
flee the echoes

real morning shines through
the tunnel of doorways
reprieve--another—
for the murderess
surprised to wake innocent
among mirror glass, ceramic
stainless steel

dreams, fears

alone in the house
while mother went dancing
night pushing black
against the midnight panes
fear looked in the window
with goat’s beard and long horns

stretch marks in the air--descending wires
a witch alighting in the trees
a force you cannot fight, or save yourself

cracks one day, shouts
deep in the leafy woods
sweating men and whipped horses
dragging tree trunks past the house
in heavy chains--gashed earth
the creek ran in mud

I dreamed my life was over
when giant logs turned, rolled over on the house

hauled not by horses, but enormous oxen
spike-horned, swaying in tandem

I followed them later, another dream
to revisit such a fear
but found them grazing in mellow sunshine
flowers dangling from their lips

sorting through some old dreams

I can tell the dogs have grown
since my daughter brought them here for me to tend

three tawny pups, the male lion-like with a short mane

In the long intervals between dream visits
I must have forgotten to feed them

Tired of waiting, they had gone to final sleep on the straw

I don’t want my daughter to find out!

lately

I’ve been dreaming of an ideal world
where the winner wins
and the losers are honored
for giving what they had

taking action

she shrugged as she watched her losses accumulate

everything that was left
she began to fasten down with words

novel: a story dreamed for us by a different sleeper

Swinging my arms

Walking the patchwork
of old concrete and new asphalt
over cracked geology
in the wilderness of houses
between the hills and the waters
I’m not lost

By now, the exhaust of the buses is nesting in my body
The wind from the sea blows both me and the weeds
busy taking back new native ground

upon reflection

thanks be to the red dog who barked a warning
thanks to the hail of footfalls down the driveway
the man vaulting over the fence (flash of white hood and the red dog)
to the back fence, up and over
thanks to the policeman in blue who almost had him
breathing hard in the back yard
thanks be to the helicopter, circling
the sirens up and down the street

thanks to the warm bed, round pool of light
paper, the pen

reportage

the plants won’t grow
in the yard, the earth
tamped down below the level
of the walkways,
half buried plastic toys
cries, curses
another puppy, tied
new consolation child
*
incident
so much anger breaks a window
seeps into a neighbor’s house
*
An argument before the house
loud voices answering each other
belligerent with force and life
pull back in alarm and consternation
Mary, with her trust and lack of guile
disarms the fiercest mother
*
what distinguishes you from your neighbor--
you have electricity
something other than
shorts and t-shirts for the snow
you never scream at the children
get the fuck out of my room
“she’s not
minimalizing her life,
just poor”

relentless blue

Californians watching the weather channel--
Any hope of weather today?

generation gap

in children stories, I could never
look the devils in the eye
but noted where they were
and turned two pages at once

my daughter keeps hers
on a shelf by her bed
so she can say
goodnight and good morning

note to the halves

you don’t know what you want because
what you want doesn’t matter
life as an interpretation, as vision, as art
heroically carry
your life from a deep center

the rewrite

born of woman so hard to take
better: springing intact from the forehead of a God
still better: a complete reversal: small loss to a man
of some insignificant part
rib, one of several

Subtle

I answered the cat that blinked her round eyes at me
Crimped ear was her answer

cat-in-arms

she liked to hook my robe with her claws
and lean back against my arm like a child,
exposing a neck of white plush

wiped herself down pre-nap on my desk
so she could go to sleep in the blue
plastic basket on the bills

an only hen
top of the pecking order
expects me to fight for my position

it must be something good for you
administered with motherly intonations
a painful peck

makes do with the company she has
alternately squats, pecks, and begs for cheese

the god of hens dictates closely
does not allow one to choose
heaven or hell

remembering when (I had some too)

not so crazy
as to talk to chickens
the hen and I,
engaging in duets

Flees the night into the racoon-less space

the scruffy outside cat has taken to dashing between our legs
welcomes me into bed, running her little motor