Walking a Small Dog
A bird wrinkles a low
branch
as a hawk pierces the
stillness
and in a swoop a bird
passes the wrinkle deeper
into shade
I see motion, I hear the
shrieks, see color
brown against green
through leaves
Something is about to
happen
beyond my inattention
Routine
Business
Levitation
Blindness
Inaction
Escape
Motion
Velocity
A building high above the mist
The moon standing still in the sky
The forest casting living shadows
The wind blowing with abandon
Do not hesitate
Escape!
Together in movement
Moving
Scrambling
We must go!
The building glows from on high
A place of gold and comfort
Radiant with brilliant color
After you enter, realization comes to you
The skeleton of our leader is found in an
automobile
Its motor is leaking dark oil and stink
We must drive it away from here
To a remote, alien place
Come along with me, we are going now
Escape!
The reptile within is taking control
We cannot deny it
Our span of control is infinite
Stop the Earth too, in its tracks
Crawl to the pavilion in the whirling sound
Escape now!
Pink Ginger
Flailing nixes of cruciform thunks
flunked as badly as the skunk stunk
warbling junk to monsieur le drunk punk
or so informs a crunk quidnunc monk
Ginger got her jack-in-the-box gunk
which went funk and clunk into a trunk
then slunk downward and sunk
away from he who plunks a song chunk
Who warbled and what song was it when
the downward spelunk spunk clinked and sunk
What nixes fixed the stinking rupture skunk
to the libelous brotherly rapscallion-men
Now, Ginger Pink suddenly slinks down to sink
into the drink in her jack-in-the-box mink
mountain whiskey
with clear head freed of media
water-conjured I swig
rivulent ancient essence
cold met with grainy heat
and time to unite
invisible spirits
of unknown variables
pickle barrel
brine cumber cuber seedsmore
sharp system stave
rationally reified unusual usuals
float forever jar retraction
I am a man wandering in to buy
realms of pickles the stars of which
fabricate smiling Czechoslovakian
sandwich blue plate specialities
down home not loose enough
to remember bright greenery
via pickle juice transparent hands
flown like birds down into green air
snack and tartar sauce garnished
in Friday night fish fry apogees
Euphonic Dysphonia
An
annual hemispheric exfoliation sequence is a testament to celebration, sharing
of food and drink that runs through the history, legacy, and plans of our
agency; signals the passage of seasonal life, like signal flags turning in the
wind exploding in bright and colorful traditional folk costumes, native dresses
forged in patchworks consisting of cookie-cutter styles per the ancien regime method
as teardrops fall into a silent lake.
Underground
ox-wheels maintain illusions fluttering in the air as the festival capers on instant
by instant before the first freeze tinges with sadness.
People
lined up in the distance smile widely, laughing while shouting vivid sayings
known for happiness day and night. Children sneak in and out of doorways where stockpiled
sweets draw them the delirious village offspring whose laughter echoes down the
stone streets pursuing pinwheeling stilt-giants and feathered clowns with an unheard
loon flying over that darkness in light.
The
chickens stutter and dance as heads bounce in anticipation of the revelries.
Foxes, wolves, raccoons and other nocturnal bandits in constant crowd evasions
list from events. Dogs, cats and domestic birds become invisible in buildings
and under them, scuffling amid the lighthearted danger.
Rudely
hewn barns, shops and huts festooned with dyed streamers and woven straw around
colored pebbles seethe like heaven in the starbright autumnal sunlight like a
celestial city of admiration constructed by magical golden sheep as the shepherds,
rangers and cowhands roll into town. Random frowns cross some brows.
Dance,
sports games, music, parades, care, joy and soul renewal; declamation of heartful speech, vocal recitation
of song, storytelling, poetry and group inspirational recitations. Exchange of seed and goods, handiwork of men,
women and children. Pennants, flags and banners waving. Frivolity. At the equinox.
word by world
the world keeps speed-reading past me
while I slow down to savor each phrase
it rattles off words like a ticker tape
words ideas and ends I don’t care to hear
the olive oil universe is fast and thin
where it should be slow thick perpetual
it is momentary fragmenting temperature
burnt from the grate in a dulled instant
a smokiness instigating clangorous alarms
where lubrication and frictionlessnesses
should abide to counteract toxic ice storms
hovering just beyond our insufficient reason
the words and worlds steal slowly to a crawl
to listen one by one sentence for sentence
