"Insignificant Nothing" is a poem that needs introduction. How would anyone figure it out without such? This is a throw-back to Hawaii and its grand hotel; the people in it. Spring 2012.

Insignificant Nothing

Insignificant nothing
I channel
Best stirred perfect
In this preferred lobby

Amid said wealthy
Squirming like netted fish
Cannot soak in this buffet
I languish outside its range
Savoring this ocean
Its roil instead

"Clubhouse" is another statement about the Monday morning affect. The poem tries to capture the troubling affect of abuse that occurs in our homes and next door. People trapped in unhappy situation in a rampant way and, thus, are ill-fitted for Monday mornings. Summer 2012.

Clubhouse

Sunday evening
Azure Blue sky
Melts like ice
In the west
Suppressing
Orange peel
Crescent, under lit plume of fire

Across my way in same stamped unit
Troubled couple
Domestic disorder
Progress in digression
Silhouettes angular,
Dumbstruck
molten spew
spoken in shout
bludgeoned space

Above us
Eggplant colored, velvet mountains
Designer terraces
Sprout early wafts
of smoke
inhaled
by others

To the north
Cumulonimbus activity
kettle drum and all
Descent
into Monday morning

"Race Horse" was the outcome of moving into an apartment after so may years of houses. I felt like a loser, even though the house sale was my idea on my terms. But I wanted to escape the apartment, fast. You don't always get what you want. You don't always want what you get. Summer 2012

Race Horse

Saw myself
Atop a horse
In full gallop
Frantic, both
Me older than myself
Horse's nostrils flared
Full throttled
Colors snapped behind me
Crowd cheering
Mind clearing
Suctioned into accomplishment
Hatch closes
With vacuum swoop

"The Animal I've Eaten" was recognition of my carnivorous ways after living with my nearly vegan daughter and her very vegan boyfriend for about a year. I was slowly dragged into recognizing the disaster of my carnivore ways and its effect on society, culture and process. Remember those cow suits! Summer 2012

The Animal I've Eaten

Claw afoot
Fawning at me
I digest
Another haunting
Ingestion
I suffer its pain
Instead
Melting this soul
Within me

The next entry is a question, not a poem; another few-liner. Afternoons with Rita prompted this question. This one may take some time for you to absorb. Move-along if it doesn't register. A lot of my stuff won't. There is twist. Summer 2012.

Would you say:

"Leave your memory better than you found it."

Or

"Leave your memories better than you remember them."

"Cascading Soul" is very straight-forward. I felt this moment at the Grad Canyon. How else does one manufacture crap like this? Summer 2012.

Cascading Soul

Felt a soul cascade past me
Breeze and all
Outstretched arms
Drawn upward
Toward me
In fall
Anguished face
At foot of arms
Fallen from somewhere
Nowhere to land
Sighing

"Orange Vapor and the Other side of Tracks." was a continuation of my animosity toward the owners of houses who were "smarter" than me. The 'Right-wingers' were right and I had to shop next to them. I wrote some nasty things about these people who churched on Sundays and stabbed horrifically on Mondays. I deleted most entries about them which is generally good for humanity.  And so I wrote:

Orange Vapor and the Other Side of Tracks

Across the wall of delineation
Where they own
Allotted parcels
Of taxed dirt
Their orange vapor lights
Protect them all night
Howls of hounds
Escape their quarters
Piercing their work
Upon stricken skies

Through rudimentary
blinds
Angular orange hash marks
Carve ink into my spine
Crawling insidiously
Infesting my dreams


"Evangelical" was another function of the Grand Canyon. A Great Condor stole the show above all the magnificence it circled. My God, those are ugly birds! But they so command respect. Ancient, I think. Summer, 2012. Two Grand Canyon Poems follow. Both about Condors.

Evangelical

We are mere hallucinations to them
Hemorrhage
Staunched
By black wing
Crossing of a heart
Ever-loving
Does not
Ever-love

Grand Canyon Two

Reflection I reserve
Most for the Sea
Absorbed instead
A breath
Steadfast
Smoked dust
Energy
Dissolved into catcher's
Cloud
Circling condor whispers
"Angel's loom."

"Face Print in Moon Dust" is just weird. but I've always loved it. This poem has nothing to do with anything. Let yourself go there. Summer 2012.

Face Print in Moon Dust

Realize
How Problematic
The Scenario
Lying
Upon
The Lunar Surface
Temperature extreme
Vacuum and all

Yet
I'd nudge
a cheekbone
Into blue powder
Sigh if I could
In a vacuum

Kindred spirits
This moon and me
blast-carved
From earth

Absorbing starlight
quiet
Solitude
From which we sprung


"Death in Dress Shoes" is another lingering doubt about the futility of "success." Need I say more? Summer 2012.

Death in Dress Shoes

Stood upright
This elevator
Polished hooves
Blackened shine
Corporate code
Paper chic
Sure
As feet fly out
From under self
Door sucks open
Next floor

"Monday Morning" is an appropriate ending to my "first load' of my blog. Trust me, there will be plenty additions; one or two a week. Stay with me, okay? With best wishes for the new year!!!

Monday Mornings

Your Monday
Premiers
Sunday night
Forty hours
At your fingertips
Upon your imagination
And counting
Your's and not
Press your shirt
Evoke your water
Collect your weekend
In a wicker basket
Indulge
The work week
See how far
It carries you