Rudimentary songs,
percussive and primal
parade through my hot mind.
In the stew of my stem cells,
supporting my innards like a
parent a wayward child,
a private boiling,
public steam.
My drummer is a bit inebriated,
and so my steps are quadrilateral.
I grow new eyes,
with a cobalt vision divine.
Self Portrait
Raptor in the Rafters
My monosyllabic life—the faint
screech of a hawk having the joy
of his prey,
somewhere beside the statuesque mountain.
I have never known fear.
I construct cocoons for five dollars each,
chilled coffins for five cents.
The banality of spice seasoning atmosphere,
tossed continent at every place setting.
Typically,
I dine in my nest of cylinders and pistons,
but today there is a feast
at the hatter’s house,
and I am invited if I bring my kill.
I never look at what I devour,
I don’t want to swallow the
resentful soul.
I am the raptor in the rafters
of the hatter’s mind,
his goggles giving him
truthful vision.
Cake
Untitled
Over my shoulder,
some ubiquitous business
cashing in on my impoverished back.
I am clay,
am a starter culture
for a world of salted rain,
with a rind of potpourri.
From my private beach,
a bliss unfolding in the midst of absence
a pleasure exchange
a hard market
a refreshing barter.
A meaningful trade.
Women
their bodies a desire,
painted in a tonal language I know so well,
lovable and mysterious as weather
Flowers
I write with thread,
recording morose intentions.
My flowers grow inverted,
chubby blooms burrowing into
the soil
while the root balls glower
at me in the gray Thursday sun.
My essence is in the breeze,
carried far from me.
One last mournful whisper and it
Is gone over the impassable plain.
My blanket will be cold and uninviting,
and I will chill beneath it
like a spurned lover,
champagne,
ego.
Who is it with red eyes,
the mossy fangs?
Who tills the plain?
His flowers grow up to the
unscrupulous sky,
rancid stench permeating the void.
The Gift
She offers him day and night.
He leaves her with a gift
that reminds her of being happy.
Slaughterhouse
Pastel pastures bask in
the purity of their useful
ponds,
the hammer ringing in
the paleolithic barn.
The slaughterhouse is pink
with blood washed
with wicked water.
Awake and aware,
the animals appreciate
the land
more than we do.
the curvature of canceled
mountains ripple the fields
like an ocean.
Wyoming, Montana, South Dakota
Our road trip through the Northwest began on Thursday! We are doing Wyoming, Montana, Idaho, Washington, Oregon, and Utah. We would like to do Nevada and California, but we don’t think we will have time. We went to the Museum of the Rockies in Bozeman this morning. Great dinosaur museum with a planetarium, though we didn’t get to see the show. Pictures of the museum in another post.
Montana is stunning. Wyoming is marvelous. Cheyenne is a cute town with amenities, but from the highway you could easily drive right past it – which is what we did. We had to turn around.
We started off in Wyoming and then went into South Dakota to see Mt Rushmore. ! It is an amazing work of art. On the way back to Wyoming we went to Devil’s Tower. It looks like stump of a giant, alien tree.
We also stopped in Deadwood, South Dakota and went to the cemetary where Wild Bill Hickok was burried.
That’s not his grave, but another really pretty grave in the graveyard.
Miniature Moon 