Sunday, December 27, 2009

What are you doing here? I guess you could say I’m just answering my own questions

What are you doing here?
I guess you could say I’m just answering my own questions


Answering my own Questions

It’s a great grand proof
that there’s no mere puffery
in birth’s miracle

For two days after
numbers of happy births
of babies births and saviors


I have been watching
squirrels,
and the ends of things



Yum, the sand honey (((a winter morning in Minnesota – sponsored by white)))

crinkled and crisped


the big jays were sliding
off the feeders
like overweight ice cream cones

Plop on to the side walk

and the chickadees greased
inside there green
butter cages for protected
squirrel flapjacks

It was too cold for this
pre frozen banquet
but I couldn’t help sitting there

watching the winter feast

wondering how many calories
there might be in a dead man’s
breakfast

Friday, December 11, 2009

BABYLONIAN

i AM A RAHTELLLLLL LZO REPMUHRE SDDLLKKKKKKKJKK THERE IS IS NOT EDGE TO CHICKENENS THAT NEEDE THA oh VOMON YRR[GGGGGGSEEIIIIFH EONFRT EHY YHR GSDVINSYINH GIC YHR MOT DYMBOLOIF OS SES LKJLKLKJJKLLLLLLLKJFSDDDDDDDDDDDKJLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLSKDJSSSS;SLDKDFKFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFI lOVR YO VFFFFFFFFFFLLL;LLLLKKKKKKKKKFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFJGJBNCMS;LFJTL

Thursday, December 10, 2009

doxology

And Ever Shall Be
Brass knuckles
“Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto.
Sicut erat in principio, et nunc, et in semper,
et in sæcula sæculorum.” – Latin Doxology

three deer
a yearling
buck and doe
breathe small breaths
in the pre dawn
moon light
as some crow
with remembered
sleek black
feathers
and a scimitar beak
flapping its wings
dark flags
in the dark

closer
two arm lengths
in the tree just over
the fence

a pair of owls
larger than cats
black marbled
eyes
reflect stars
like flying backwards
murderous inspirations
murderous inspirations inspirations
murderous inspirations even they fly from
the susurrus inspirations
of cars
of cars
of cars
of cars
of cars of cars

and sickly trees
rooted in dry tangle grass
uncurling their leaves for
morning sunlight as
the wheels and engines
the wheels and engines
hum a doxology
for crows
dawn and
the waking
carrion eaters
will get hummed to pieces by my tough wife, Judy
forwards and backwards
she may get them before they get me.
Anyone want to take bets?