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