in honor of chicory

rising birds, lifting up out of a blue field
illusion of movement--
a still life of sun
on folded and extended wings

welcoming the new driver to, say, an 8-lane freeway

aren't you proud of yourself
the way you can maneuver
accurately, without touching
within this flock

on their 21st cruise

it was after they had secured their cabin
and arranged things in the cabinets and drawers
that she sat down on the bed suddenly, and said
you know what, Jamie?
I wish I were home

note for nation building

instead of they, them
I really want to hear more us
those of us, those among us...

I want the things that unite us
to decorate our shelves

homesick?

on the rippled water
an approaching mast
and the bridge begins to hum
two halves rise, drawing in the air
a non-existent mountain...

seaside on a Tuesday

the ocean is bored without us
lifts a languid hand to slap the beach

wipe your feet

on the door mat do
a little dance

refuge

in the kitchen
she surrounds herself
with things that will obey

amuse

although
our atoms formed together
part of the water, hardly distinguishable
and our energies go over in around--
pass through each other
all the time like ghosts

how is it
we’re enamored of the sharp image
straight edges, solid forms, incised letters
demarcations–eyes, noses, fingers
present and accounted for

and the numbers tally up, agreeing
goals, ends, clearly showing
orderly, marching closer...

Sunday dinner

people greeting people all around

alone, he comes to the restaurant
for the left-over smiles

windy weather, lax

from the seventh floor, by the airport
we watched the airplanes blow towards us
Aeroflot, Emirates, Philippine Air, LAN Peru--
labeled winds

always hungry

I had in mind the dog
but it was only an empty
brown paper shopping bag
looking up at me

cleanup time

when the web of time
joined the dust of time
she gave in and cleaned the cabinet

.


(the dust, on little
rubber bands
bounces right back)

theoretically, from the distance, knowing nothing

so easy, so familiar
pulling back a practiced finger
and the action playing
tiny and so far away
hardly feels like murder

the cries? we've heard these cries before
coming out of our own mouths--
nothing anyone would pay attention to
and we've been dead a long time
to anything but anger

still, we'd take it all back
for pizza and a night at home...

feisty

overheard, stopped at a red light, window down
two graybeards conversing on a bus stop bench
“Now, I don’t wannna have ta kill ya...”

jet (or swine flu, hopefully)

begins with intimation
builds to thunder
which subsides
does not come our way

wording

a landscape tossed by wind
a climate, cool caves beneath the branches
entertainments--spiders, squirrels, birds
the coming and going of its leaves

all this compressed into one word, tree
hardly worth a second glance

(word--at first, supplement to a feeling
then a feeling supplanted)

change yourself for the better?

sure you can learn a few things
give yourself lessons, lectures, sermons
make mental notes, resolutions, conversions
but in life we can only truly be
the way it comes to us

it's just good feng shui (Dunsmuir take note)

suspend some wind chimes in the canyon--
the river, the railroad, the freeway and the wind
blowing through town through opposite doors

mathphobe mutterings

one number is pretty much like any other

stored on slanted shelves, they slip off

educations

from a child I learned
it's ok to be easily hurt
it's ok not to understand
it's ok not to want what others want you to want

from a dog,
bark sometimes
don't let just anyone come near

from the cat,
disobedience does not kill you
("Come here." "No, thanks.")

legs

the cat gallops past to play
I chase her under the dining table
her legs distinguishable from all the rest

surviving the landmine

at peace--she’s not a burden to her family--
they’ve sold her into slavery--

on bare ground with her one leg
her hands weave the rhythm of her days
she had hopes, but they are dead
nobody wants me now, she said

suppose

suppose we really did
love one another
what would that look like?

psychosis

...standing on some foreign threshold
the fear, a fur on my back

where is that gold-paved road
the stone lions, the iron door
who has the formula?

where the dwarf to lead me
through this wind-torn landscape
shreds still flapping from the bones of trees...

I watch myself
trying to flee a terrible dream...

*

from the door
the view is wide, wide!
it seems that this is where fulfillment lies
and greatness
and slipping of the yoke
one step...

so why is my heart racing?

it is grey, and cold
I am alone
it seems a violent wind has blown
the air away

this freedom feels too much like dying

the door has gotten very small
but I know I must get in

sastrugi

snow with a bite--
dunes, knife edge
in dagger formation
gnashing under your boots

Hey

when I make a statement and you negate it
and I restate my statement, softening my stance
I’m not bowing to pressure
I’m restating my original position
refined for accuracy

yard list

gazing balls
purple plastic windmills
yellow wagon, red petunias
terrier with a serious underbite
snarling & snorting

gray days

the bay area was hiding from the fact
that it is a very hot summer

as the temperature climbs, the fog piles on the hills
ready to wash over us in the night
neither does it settle on the ground, but floats, protective layer
between us and the sun

I peered out the front window last night (where it is never really dark)
and saw it--caught the fog in full retreat, draining back to sea
tomorrow will be a very hot day

seltzer birds

bush tits in the bushes
like bubbles, rising,
breaking in a soda can

empty

tanker truck
up the hill at full speed
swinging its trailer

(trucks we built so as not to burden
any more beasts)

note to self

Shut up! The position of knower is already taken...

shifting the plates

whenever you say what you really mean
red hot material oozes from a crack
a blackened fingernail grows between two continents

unnecessary opinion

matadors, unnecessary heroes

sun so bright, fly shadows
penetrate the camellia leaf
emerge on the other side

why the dinosaurs died out?
collapse of their heaven

telephone dream conversation

grandfather calling, from his living room
at the edge of the farthest galaxy

and indeed, he is gone,
within reach of the stars
into the realm of the timeless

disapproving of her social self

perfectionist, she kept it pure
visiting no one
inviting no one to her house

celebration house

Christmas lights tacked to the eaves
ceramic pumpkins on the stairs
stuffed witch in the window
pink balloons
streamer over the door, “Happy Birthday!”

foreclosure effects

furniture stored under blue tarps
two more dogs in the yard
another car parked before the house

somewhere another house
dead grass, empty windows
the roses bloom for no one

The lie?

“at the tollbooth by the bridge I paid for the car behind me
just to imagine their surprise”

she told me the story and I could picture it
so well, in fact, that the next time I heard it
it came out of my mouth

I couldn’t remember and still don’t know
whether I repeated the act
or had accepted her story as my own...

pair bond

you can’t both want
one of you has to be able to say
yes dear, that sounds all right to me

getting into the passenger seat

if you have no expectations
they will surely be exceeded

winter bedtime

in the cold house
I laid my cold body down
topped it with an electric blanket

and learned
what a hot fudge sundae feels like

speaking of animals...

--pet-love
leaps through the air
warm, purring fur-ball into my arms
silky and filled out with winter fur
her paw and its thorn sticking out
on the keyboard leaving
a trail of 7's

*

start of the morning
in your robe, pork chop in hand
luring a recalcitrant hen

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

omnivorous and ravenous
the hen, when laying
Schnabelschweinchen (beak-pig)

*

distinguished from animals
by scheduling ourselves more tightly

(animals take themselves more lightly)

*

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

*

the cat comes in from the snow
and balances on my knee with her cold buttons

*

she followed me to the corner
and sat down, ears erect
black and white statue under the oak trees
until I walked out of sight

*

Cat on the fence, bird caught on her thorn by a wing
Malevolent little spirit
Anger lives in her
What it takes to bring a fast bird down

*

I imagine one small cat could eventually
Fill a whole house with hair

*

the cat admires back
eyes half closed with love

asleep on your warm bed
plunge your hands into her round rug

enunciates clearly at night
ow-whoa into every lonely room

flashing her green mirrors

*

the difference between us and the animals?
we are able to speak hypothetically
from a position occupied but not
believed in

*

neighborhood dog
peculiar high
bark of protest, wounded pride

when your dog calls, why do you not answer?
pity taints the springest morning

*

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

*

the hen, in flight on the ground,
steers through the gate with the rudder of her tail

*

My black cat travels, in part
Hair stuck to the Scotch tape
I used to mend a payment envelope
To Allstate in Dallas
That’s also how my tongue cells,
My saliva gets around
To the various corporations
That personal touch, soon to become obsolete
Bill Pay online

*

Dogs are young
And don’t know any better than to give in

*

Chickens--Observing their customs
Committee of three
If you can persuade two of them
The other automatically follows

Flatten the grass with extended toes

more of a sail that a tail

--Free flying chickens
Flying is the araucana’s joy
She cajoles the others
To fly onto the fence, chase jays
Who come for the sunflowers
We tied seed-side up

Right after I wrote this
I was forced to clip their wings

*

The cat
The way she’s laying on the chair
Four legs together
Like a bouquet

Crackling purrs
I hold her while she spit-cleans
Her face

A little food to sustain the cat
And a lot of opening and closing of doors

*

observing chicks—the expressions
on faces that come to a point
_____ says
Innocent lives that can be had for a buck

*

Chickens stretch their necks to peck
Spider-silk wrapped packages

*

The way the young chickens, gathering their skirts
Come running out of the greenhouse every morning
Leaping at each other with a challenge
Into the air, chest to chest, with raised beaks
And then resume pecking at a common clump of grass

You’d think that
That much aggression
We might be allowed

*

The cat’s asleep, at peace
Having found her food bowl
She has discharged her duty to the nation

*

--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

*

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

(coverlet for seeds and civilizations)

the woman fat, the old man limping
between them their bright-coated dog
with his hesitation and adoration
sensitive ears flicking up, flicking back

The raccoon children have been in the cat food again
And they peer from basement corners with their shining headlight eyes
Brief glimpses of black masks
Robber babies

The cats accrue to us when the neighbors move away.

silent leapings, little m sounds
tidy head-butts and rubs

dish out the cat food in the laundry room, satisfied crunches
(mud flowers on the washing machine)

cats reward you with their well-being

flood on South First

in a moment of exuberance
the river catches at a back yard
swings itself over the road

(spacers, as in a necklace)
we have to remain separate to contain a separate fire

same old, same old

each weekday the mailman
angers the same dog

visits and visitations

The old, not so very dangerous

You do not have to have a plan
By itself, my body breaks into a smile

pooled in the hall--
(these things are not important)
(describing these lets them take on a false importance, do you see?)
greeted by the stink
of forgetfulness, unbound bodily urges
the breaths-upon-awakening
exhalations of spent stems
from flowers too long in vases
crazy laughter from the boy without a bladder
Theresa, on hearing herself groan
feels less alone

coiffures and nail polish, lipstick and earrings
on the propped-up old, waiting
feather-light in carriage wheel-chairs
for family to come and take them home

“Listen, dear, I don’t live far. Can’t you give me a ride?
I’ve been waiting here for such a long time.”

Earl, I love him
his face turns red
when I read to him
he cries

Leila, lovely in pale pink
and a little straw hat

back to pre-speech
variations in tone and timbre
a flute and a hum
innocence returned to her

Agnes
rising inflections on the way to a question, “oh are they...”
parts of statements left hanging, “yes, that’s a...”
an opinion stated, while smiling into a smiling face, “no ”

Wanda--Alzheimers
common, farmer stock
pale, lipless, cave of her mouth--

does battle for her perceptions
bursting right through her confusion
to make a statement, any statement

a definite conclusion drawn from an imagined occurrence--
“I got them to give me a beer”

there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with her
though it frightens them when she talks of things that never happened.

“I’m ok, I guess. Only I have to waste my time, come here and sit all day, you know, when I have small children at home, the youngest only, what is he, six by now I guess.”

no crying
around the lunch tables we tell jokes
short ones so
we still remember the beginning when we get to the punch line
Estelle, hooked to an oxygen tank
chortles into her coffee (she’s hoarding two green cups at once)
“I’d give anything for a highball”
(make that a 7-high, if you would)

Lou
motions an arthritic claw towards her plate
I pick up a fork and feed her
She thanks me, unaware
we’re saving each others lives

from the viewpoint (vandalized, graffitied)

the fields laser-straightened,
machine-planted
the fruit trees equidistant
their shadows aligned

the subdivisions
are securely fenced
so the houses cannot escape, stray into
the surrounding fields

Worlds in Collision (Immanuel Velikovsky), etc

I wouldn’t push the truth too much
or regulate the child too precisely

bad science makes for good dreams
a great education

hope from a book that’s badly written
but too exciting to put down

in the cracks between
the inefficiencies and inattentiveness
of the imperfect teacher
flourish little lives

aha

being good at something--
not always a recommendation
but a competition

on the campground

I don't mind the children
It's the parents
giving in to anger, lies
revenge
when a quiet word would do

I accept what I'm guilty of
my mother, not so much

corn fed

cows genetically stupefied
held on blackened ground
under a wide umbrella of stink

advice to self

don't be afraid to look foolish
it gives others courage

ad

tomatoes–-hand-ripened, slow-picked

Two more dreams (it wasn’t real, but I did live it)

I said tomorrow is going to be my lazy day
but my dream knows better
comes at me with mops buckets...


Although it hasn’t rained in months
no matter how often I repair the roof
water continues to drip from the ceiling...

Art Project

every Sunday, the priest
climbs into his plane
secretly sprinkles
holy water from the windows
he wants to bless the city

Whiff of Cologne

(we could see the cathedral in the distance
but construction barred the way)

five remember the city not only for its fine cathedral
but the actions of one old man

who, seeing our out-of-town license plate, led us
past detours through construction zones
directly to the underground garage
stopped to point us to a parking stall
and drove on

(before it becomes entrenched)

not yet sure of its position
everything the child touches, sways

the teacup with the tiniest flowers
lost its handle on the floor

they drank from broken teacups

Ney Springs

no one needs to prune these trees, arrange these rocks

this is not a park
uncorrected lies the glade

(there is nothing to be done here and there is everything)

*

let the rocks be hot and the water glacier cold
the logs span the rock piles
dead sticks remain in the trees

let the bumblebees swing
back and forth like pendulums
unaffected by my breathing

let the birds be silent or insist

exposed roots hang, curtain-like
side pools reflect the shadows
fallen leaves float flat
let the water striders stop and start
over colorfast stones
on a clear ceiling

let the dark moss soften and envelop
stone wall and hillside

the spiders continue to wire the canyon, the sun
glide on their filaments

let the sulfur spring continue
to overflow its bucket-round concrete pool

let the plywood covering the larger pool
continue to warp and splinter
the concrete steps detach from the hillside
the fine, almost dainty debris
accumulate on the path

the rock, appearing
continue to work its way out of the ground
blue and white stippled, the color of old enameling

impress (1)

carved black marble
the light just so
bronze cherubs in the vaulting
floating between them
the Polish crown

I remember this place
or another exactly like it
another dark tomb

left-over mysteries (2)

a medieval street and
a funerary chapel
in a cathedral deep in Poland

twice I returned
in wonderment

what deep well
of memory
connects us?

imaginary conversation after stopping at convenience stores, the length of California

Studying English?
Yes, I’m going to visit the States
Really? What part?
California
Oh, that won’t do you any good there...

Belinda encaustic notes

memorable colors, textures
filling in the squares of an orderly life
partially or completely, or with overflow
out to the edges of the painting,
honey running down the sides

(a few are filled in half-way
to a rupture
cascades of wax solidifying over
a bottom-heavy canvas)

(some thick and gloppy, slowly clotting)
(others, liquid, faster, shoot out the top like a geyser)

try to be consistent in your admirations
which muscles do you use to be true?

at Box Canyon

the dam in massive silence
among the interactive trees

*

happening upon
a statue in the wilderness
begin to pray
to the best in both worlds

at Eileen's

beautiful the room
the carvings intricate
costly the chandeliers
no matter. Once you sit
down with the others, there you are

eyes pulled outside to the trees,
the hills, hoping for a distant raft of clouds
to hurry on this way, bring wind

at Mary's

take off your shoes—
contact with the same ground
the teacher walks on

listen to no one’s poetry
who will not reveal their toes

she's getting old too

purpose-driven life?
not for this cat
asleep upside down among towhees and sparrows
pecking at seeds on the new seeded lawn

teamwork

her poor dishonored body
she tries to think, plead, order it into place...

(the brain, in its capsule
aspiring to become commander
of the whole darn rocket)

(the body, with its own will and intelligence
regards the brain as an add-on
latecomer, would-be usurper)

...which finally responds, expands
into the true position

it’s a long way through Nevada

simplify, simplify, says the landscape
mountains in their stony essence
blank valleys
repeat, repeat
driving through an endless
mid-day still life

:-)

she must have decided that
to have a clean house
cleaning is too high a price
to pay

importance of words

the cat stares, round-eyed
when I look up, she heads towards the door
now that’s just plain English

the dog projects his wish
directly to my hand
that last little piece of meat
won’t you lean it down to me?
it does

the black man did it! (another false accusation in the news)

If there’s any crime to be done, I’ll do it
That way it will be easy to tell who’s responsible

noisy news (from the neighborhood)

the mockingbird
and the jackhammer
in duet

police helicopter
clattering
in circles over the house

new neighbor
parenting
at the top of her lungs

Amtrak sultry-soft, two tone
reminds me
you can get out of here

words about Anne

her paintings are modest, hold back
reveal themselves slowly, over time
as your eyes adjust to their tranquil light

in folds and niches she concealed them:
silks of countries changed forever
bits of wheat fields
laces of streams and, I happen to know,
a mountain, entire

the fabric of her life is woven
into grass and soil
beneath the placid horses
lazing or grazing in the surface sun

and did you notice
the Sandhill cranes just arriving
or have they just left

progressing through the age brackets

the controls loosened
sounds began to escape her lips
she learned the strength of her emotions
surprised at her surprise

I stop for gardens

pausing before a house
a patrol car happens by
watching me
case the spinach

wind today

jerking the tethered wires

the orange plastic ribbon caught on the fence
waves like a hand

and beyond, rising and falling
great lungs of the eucalyptus

Weather reports

forks of lightning, withdrawn
darts of rain
a huge glory over the water
light shining out of a sun-cave

*

clouds with their bottoms intact, firm, dark
stepping stones to the mountain
where they fray with rain

*

grey day
the sun sets in a gold commotion in the west

adjustment

she tried for years
to straighten him out
nowadays she contents herself
ironing creases into his jeans

bird spit

wetted
by a single bird
high on the wires
with inordinate aim
she felt herself selected

delayed

oh boy
said the old man who had just stubbed his toe on a tree root
this is really going to hurt

90 degree turn

she stands outside the door
pulling on a cigarette
with that left-behind look--

society has moved on

news from the other world, visited nightly

what a night
kitten in the water
the wallet, the blood test, the game abandoned in the middle
an avatar of the children—
from those parts of them that lie unused--
and in the morning, like handles
the words

holding the pose

toppled
by a thought-quake

view from the hotel

swaying towards us
headlights in air
our windows part the stream

hoards of metal
arriving birds
reach for the ground with rubber claws

walking toward the darkness

at 75 she asked herself
while looking at her breasts
aren't you tired of having these?
*
cataract surgery? no thanks
my eyes fading to the details
as they should
*
after the old man died
his wife still gardened for years
"I'll just mess around a little longer
then I'm coming too"

acting as if--
aiming for the door right beside heaven...

inner smiles all day because of what a dream whispered

the beloved departed---
sometimes they’re still available to us in our dreams
for long rides down the interstate, for instance
in a bakery truck...
*
tired of her illness
she stepped into the glass-walled garden
plucked a leaf, and ate the healing herb
*
the children chorused
they wanted me to be their teacher, but
a big man sat down beside me
and muscled me out of my dream

testimony

the hesitant child gained fluency
by not correcting herself

(even the awkward are able to achieve
a level of competence over time)

after the break

Once the devil goes home
and God withdraws His face into the clouds
and you are left with yourself, alone,
whom do you trust?

Not yourself.
Hug tight the bottle, pills rattling as you walk

morning city

A fast morning walk
adds swing to the day

The people are mostly in their houses,
(their cars, their businesses, their schools)
Out here it’s just me and the birds
a few stray gardeners
or old walkers
we greet like friends

the end

rainy

I imagine the rain eating
clattering utensils against the eaves
forking at the slopes above roads

scaping off with a butterknife
a thin film from naked mountain tops
a few more pebbles spooned away
from the mountain's slow life

the back 40

cows, ducks, rabbits, hens
our edible friends
come running to meet us

war room--no damage

For birds it is a hands-off world
Whatever they’ve been discussing
with shrieks and cries, ramage
in the roomy juniper at the edge of the parking lot
the world will come to no harm from it

(birds use their hands to fly)
(in the hands-on air)

glimpsed on the way to somewhere important

the quail, jangling its little bell
runs into the manzanita bushes
rolled up like mossy boulders
against the leggy pines

by the stream

scrub jays arriving on startling blue wings
answer each other's questions with questions

choice

shall I peek out fearfully
from a corner of myself
or dare to be the force
behind my eyes?

alternate view

I see a small dark Jesus
slightly myopic
the load of love bending
his forehead down
shaggy beard, long black coat
briefcase, roomy, to accommodate
everything he owns

hurrying up to people in the bleachers
bending close,
whispering, "Remember--
the children--
they still know the way!"

when he leaves, much sighing before
the murmuring begins, "Yes, but
what He really meant
must have been
entirely something else..."

he sang a dream song, not with his mouth only

today the Spanish kids are playing
with the Korean children’s puppies

pedestrians on the sidewalk smile and greet
as after an earthquake

“I cried, brother, I cried
that such a thing can happen in my lifetime”

more rain

what an anger the river
has gathered into itself
and now rushes to the sea--
the grinding of banks
gnashing of boulders
and in troubled recesses
silent accumulations of gold

light side

earthshine you're standing in
earthshine you are
when the sun comes bounding in
to warm you

at once poetic, scientific
and mathematical
it reflects off our foreheads
at predictable angles

state rock

serpentinite
time-cracked
spilling out of hillsides

having been accustomed
to supporting water
by the oceanweight

I'm ready at last

to apply for citizenship here, now

compare

pouring rain
our superior intellect
fat, wet squirrel
at home in his fur in the tree

preparing dinner in a glass pot

through transparent crustal plates
we can see the inner workings of the planet
roiling rock, blue darting flames
plutons rising and descending like parachutes

sugar pines
stretch forth their arms
welcoming, though with bare regard--
they like to have their seniority recognized

praying

we came to praise
so our voices, herded together
could plead your reality down

to walk here among us
in justice and wisdom
we're somehow not able
to conjure up for ourselves

all the sadness banished
the yearning quenched
your light to wander among us
in sudden new landscapes
of joy and acceptance
and unending wonders
that our eyes, cured of darkness
would now be able to see

(for the children)

very soon
probably today
someone will want you to be
smarter, quicker, straighter, taller
hairier, prettier, stickier, smaller
stumpier, less willowy
bony-er, less pillowy
smilier, curlier, burlier, meaner
pricklier, sillier, lighter, cleaner
(did I forget anything?)
well, do what you must
but what the world really needs
is for you to be more...more...
what was your name again?
yes. you. more you.