Dec 2010

is found within a cathedrals vespers
Earth
sharpens a poor working door

machine built to pry on me

opens me up to
contain multiple

cathedrals


for me
a dreams
tree lacks dignity
in gods death alone
hip death

reference to other circles


i cant tell cloud from smoke

15 miles into Kansas

Thawed murder by light at the boat dock

haunting
friend scared of black helicopters

ALVEY S

I never scratched Alvins feet for a quarter

but once he lit M-80s at the national horse shoe tournament

the Falls City court house

and jail drawing officers

once

Ima jean his wife welded metal into sculpture

twirling deal

we kicked field goals in the crotch of there oak

next to north school

with dan and andy

where we went to kindergarten

where we ate low income lunch

and i almost hid

Black Stone on Top of a White Stone by Cesar Vallejo

I shall die in Paris, in a rainstorm,
On a day I already remember.
I shall die in Paris-- it does not bother me--
Doubtless on a Thursday, like today, in autumn.

It shall be a Thursday, because today, Thursday
As I put down these lines, I have set my shoulders
To the evil. Never like today have I turned,
And headed my whole journey to the ways where I am alone.

César Vallejo is dead. They struck him,
All of them, though he did nothing to them,
They hit him hard with a stick and hard also
With the end of a rope. Witnesses are: the Thursdays,
The shoulder bones, the loneliness, the rain, and the roads.

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