Just

The sharp task of identifying things

terrifys me

hard nosed mausoleum rejected

a month ago

this doesn't register in me

but annoying sleep in sharp sharp river

deepens now with the weight of spring

pick
picking on me


where dog shakes

lose burs

buying the murder weapon at the flee market

where you sir have reduced hill cathedral

too intense "noise machine"

fed up fine tuned processes process

years

Too do things

in the making

Confederate History Month

You can pick up the severed limbs
while I leave the candles lit

between the shrubs of your glamor-is mothers
plantation


so that late at night you can see the
flicker from your window
and come to me
rap tap
tap tap
rap tap
tapping

maybe trimming my beard

or borrowing my etchings of a
large swamp monster bayoneting
Confederate war criminals

i will enjoy going barefoot on the catkins
believing with all my heart
that honest Abe was a real Marxist

after tearing my radio apart
ill ponder what the high school jocks are doing in
the dark void of cornfields
surrounding the
wild blinking light
of the run down
cold war warning tower

How Sick we are

I cant pull myself away from the televisions critique

of our multimedia

speed communication

obsessed technological culture

and before leaving the house I had to let you know about

stranger

from thousands of miles away

through the world wide web

Ozark Vetrans Etc

ain't nothing good ever come outta Missoura

but southern patches of poplar ripe for the pickin

meeting my mother at noon to drop polka dotted roses on my horses grave

in the holler

see em again in that lumber mill central in the sky

where my marijuana grows like gangbusters

and I booby trap the perimeter

with skills i acquired in Vietnam

with the sun cresting above the eastern cascades
the women next door shews the domesticated deer
from her lawn
recently landscaped with rocks
and cheesy modern art that she thinks is cute

no soul
in high pines
but the constant threat of spring
occurring every other afternoon
Our greatest assets often fail us
as the moon sails between earth and star
leaving a small few of us laughing
why cant things be so easy?
as quiet sinking sky
embarrassing fresh ponderosa
"jeering at the funny animal"
we view the vantage point with retribution
maybe longing for flood
while the sick color of the moon
invokes in each
a selfish revolution