find my dirty cup
and water my pines
I light my fires with dry pines
when church and
flowers treat me like a shady stranger
AND i dredge
and cobble EARTH'S assorted patterns

this summer the whippoorwills fell silent by mid June
I skipped the amphitheaters movies
TO play werewolf in the woods
moaning at autumns crisp kindness

with you counting the lightning
and my gray hairs
I witness the pond you skated as a kid
miss the turn
and fog the windows

your direction proceeding mine
a glorious road
of haphazard half glances
chilling me love
did you not know me as a younger self?
a reckless boy loving you
but not knowing
I know you in my bones
a past life?
like heat in the woods
or flooded river
I find you in everything now

we carried Lester's coffin
in a dredge of September afternoons

now
wearing his flannel
I blast god with Octobers wind
preparing grandpa for fire

red shimmer of sumac reaches me
through the echos of harvest
and Lesters ghost in a grain truck
oxygen mask and all

mmmmmmm

dumb new poem
same work with
cute wind and autumn trail
when I was younger I would have scared

Ya YELLOW
jumping out behind lush bushes
with one poisoned
armed arm
behind my back
and mean squint in each eye
with pointed locust twig
wily bird hobo dreamer
on all painted faces
at every single occasion ever
every train station ,even wagon
or box cars wrangled

from here on up
out
to Kalamazoo
a drunk
withering flower
in the weeds

"for Justin "

and now i've scared my brother
armed
to the teeth
with amazing
magic eye
learning to float well
and land its veil
amongst wheat sheered
by warlock tooth

bored now
with the rise and fall of what
we waited for
what autumn lacks
or takes from our family
now that you've locked me in the loft
knocked lose the latter
to drown it in the dirty hay

a sign directing me
from a southern " explosion of fall foliage "

to past gardens of passing vulture squats

nestled between big sandstone poems
and black Black Nemaha's eyes

where ive blocked out my fear of horse headed oak
the sumac making its snear

corrupting Sundays sermon

at the little empty country church
which only receives guest
when the sun hits the brick
an illuminates its worn red surface

Holy Mountain

place the turkey feathers in my mug
and trust them to stay put over night

stay up with night vision
use amphetamine
listen to electro
so time doesn't rewire
your vcr

reattaching each feather
to its correct spot
on each bird