this mass of chard earth that cant catch a break
brewing fog south of fire kill

and a snag hangs ominous

a snag hangs eying

catching sprinkles of rain

plotting projectile course
for foresters head
decomposition
calling in beetles
from grave
in the shadow of Mt Jefferson's
fungus

place the delphinium in my paws
and forget the meadow


say good bye in
which ever way you can

but do
something here
to stir the brush

recommend slight
ways to counteract
the sight and smell of smoke
on a dim wits afternoon



tear up

high center
rally
and whip the earths
paths


flinching to
look at

the dusty face of
god on a Kansas
country road

Holcome

place the delphinium in my paws

and forget the meadow
say good bye in
which ever way you want


something here now stirs in us
ever so slightly

burning the afternoon
for traditions sake

tear up

high center
rally
and whip

our uneasy jib

and dusty look given
by god on Kansas
country road

High Desert Home

with the wind banging
the tatters of plastic
left on wooden frames
I bury the dead
under sage

we make ghouls outta every dam thing
when we need too

trip on pumice
raised beds
and curse the slam jamming
door of chicken coop shed thing

I dont want to make my Jade plant a widow
but im gonna get naked outside with beer
give her water when she wants it
so she can

photo

photo


synthesis

Left em in the rain together to watch
the storm touch moon
and I interacting
with all three
cant tell the difference between

KOA camp

dredge
nothing
but old weedy
steamboat

bruise poor white jenkins
or
seek trashy
"sky oval "
dropping tears quickly
reshaping themselves
from plans given to us by
crescent moonish eyes
to itch shadow

drank
entirely too much
before dawn

the flee market coming to soon
and ending with five too many belt buckles
and a free turquoise lamp shade
in tow

finished the day off
musing for what looked like animals
in the
failed falling of future night
gathering like litter
between houses
and the outskirts
of every-thing else


Deep Deep Deep
where
moss on the trail
blocks drunk opossums way out
where paved sidewalk ends
and stump gives in to grave stones
dug up
spit out
and hid in

nothing to say
steamboat,
poor white jenkins
or
trashy
sky oval dropping crescent moon eyes
like tears

With the bear cub below
and the hot springs missed
nothing much is left between

I remember the trees we climbed
in my mothers back yard

the crab apples in

the sand box

and the pink house
with friends on both sides of
Towle Street