Madagascar morn
biology sugar test
St. Louis pizza?
endangered lemurs
whine-free museum musings
provelle, cracker crust?
let’s not burn forests
enjoy easy-going friends
eat under the arch
saved on raft from storm
evolution miracle
lemurs, 3D, life
two free holidays
first one ushers in a storm
mountains disappear
skyline from here
is always magnificent
minus the whining
how influential
a video-head friend is
shuffled in with clouds
moms must compromise
perk warmth into snowy scene
where surprise awaits
no seats near the girls
overheard conversation
prettier than snow
a Vietnam vet
three decades of war photos
now he snaps for peace
how much do you charge
to bring your eye-witness view
to my refugees?
you see, there’s this book…
as all great requests begin
Inside Out and Back…
Again, he returns
to where he lost his manhood
and became a man
I don’t charge a thing:
without our youth, our schooling
the world won’t change
we make lesson plans
till the girls will wait no more
Happy Veterans’ Day
first free holiday
though nothing is ever free
let snow send us peace
if money could buy
the time i lost regretting,
would i be happy?
my biggest paycheck
untouched in the nursery
unswaddled bonus
its late-night crying
ignites a hole in my soul
but babes are fragile
even when nursing
they can fuss and search for more
easily cracking
my scarred nipple skin
tearing my hope inside out
leaving me empty
safe in its blanket
i will keep my money wrapped
while i nurse my dreams
Janis Joplin hair
might as well accept it’s mine
Happy Halloween
drive to edge of earth
that’s how far money stretches
there’s never enough
space, bedrooms, hardwood
three people and all their shit
spread suburban sloth
walkability
on a scale of one to ten?
tractor crossing sign
there is no number
to measure my distaste here
size shouldn’t matter
Americans Dream
big, better phallic boasting
in the shape of homes
American Dream:
be Janis Joplin–different
don’t let it kill you
only a kind heart
could compliment this lemon
alas, it still drives
Hobbits for two nights
Andalusia’s secret
take the back way home
small mountains pounded by wind
for a million more years
than our Rockies,
we listen to the persistent slap
of waves coming in,
smashing into slate,
bubbling up along the beach,
a Mediterranean breeze
no competition
for howling Fourteeners’ gales
just like in Colorado,
only shrubbery will grow here,
yet it persists
beneath a blistering sun
that has taken a vacation day,
just as we do now
instead, sprinkles of rain
mock our first steps,
and we discover fluffy carrascos
and giant yucca-like palm bushes,
a chaparral setting with
soil colorado, tinted red,
the roots of our state
along the shores of this sea
every morning
as i come to my crossroads
just after dawn
touches her fingers to sky,
i make my decision–
an uphill battle
breaking my muscles,
the wind of the highlands
an ever-greater challenge
than the meandering creek
i pedal for simple sights:
the middle-aged blonde
with two matching goldens,
(sometimes leashed, sometimes free)
the bright yellow spot
of a SmartCar, and me
always wondering just where
on the curvacious beauty of
a road i will pass it,
the ever-silent deer
who peer intently at my machine
as they stand cautiously
at the edge of civilization.
and today? a gift,
the top of the most tenuous climb,
the wind bending back leaves
and straightening out flags,
pushing against my will,
when what should cross the road
but a lone pronghorn,
its native spirit leaping
over barbed wire and into
the chaparral, leaving me to
finish my ride, open up
a starvation-induced chocolate
whose wrapper reads,
You are exactly where
you’re supposed to be
(i don’t throw it away,
its aluminum words
imprinted on the crossroads
that may lead me elsewhere tomorrow)
before this great institution
you have a tabula rasa—
you could start fresh,
show the world innovation,
speak the language of the plants.
but in your usual
conglomeration of unspoken words,
you have filled your slate
with water-sucking weeds
stealing the words from native beauty.
if words could work
i could buy the right food
food to feed them
food to nurture the Earth
rather than strip her of
her natural beauty
if words would work
we could respond yes
throw our three-dollar-dinner
into the wastebasket
and forget the one week and
ten dollars left till payday
if words could cure
the tears would be smiles
and they could have
the ice cream cones of their dreams
instead of the cheap flavorless popsicles
that melt before they can get a taste
of the world with my words.
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