The Rip, The Tear

My job at the collage factory didn't pay that well but I was not one to look down my nose at minimum wage.  Plus the overtime.  That's time and-a-half for all you white collars, all you gamers out there. Mostly, the data is what got me into the sweetness of OT to begin with.  Counting each tear, measuring the white part of a rip (collages are made of paper, sometimes old batteries and what have you, sometimes used Suns with a Moon or two).  Numbers add up unless you use subtraction. Division is another matter entirely.  Let's just say that isn't my job.  Multiplying--now we're talkin'.

To tell you the truth, I'm saving up for a new Skidoo.  It's so I can skedaddle on outa here.  Please don't breathe a word.  I wouldn't want that to get around.  I mean, I do have my image.

O Verbal Town

O verbal town of Kesey
& silent high school Brautigan
How deeply dark you dri-i-ip
Upon the green and greener fields
There's hope for bigger spli-i-iffs

Even though I don't imbibe
I feel the rising tide
so far so far from all the years
I did not      li-i-i-ve     h  e  r  e

O little town of resumes
how quickly I must try-to-lie
subtracting university degrees
remembering the dank sky

under dumpster cover dark alleyways
of cedar, fir, and rhododendron
among the cheer and seamless fog
another year slipping aimless  ly  ly  ly  

Library Wishing Well

Wishes take over
semi-comfortable chairs
at the far storybook windows--
How I've waited here
For my dreams to show up
On the page didn't I want more?
The wild thing past.  Was it so wise.
Throwing it out in the void
Like that no cares in the world.

Wood To Bring In, Parking Lots To Cross

I
rocked
the free world
sprinting to those
department stores
used up all their
toilet paper.

I
stepped
over people
sleeping

in their shoes

studied

the wind
dancing.

I
showed up
on the page
in the sun
using
a write-in-the-rain

to document
the sister war.

Just when I thought
it might be over
it started up again
a fault of its own
so freely applied.

Celeste

Anything we want

we already have

anything I'm giving
I've already given
away

before
turning.

Milk from the moon.
Milk from the stars.

The Long Hello

Sage
don't forget the rosemary
eucalyptus and lemon
drops the orange honey
garlic with all else
fortifying winter fire

expecting another
twenty years at least
call it begging call it
anything but keep calling it
keep playing even when it's
out-of-bounds and foul

Porcelain River Moon With Bear

The part about the bear doesn't belong here but what good
is a poem without one in it since they are the fur of the world
mothering all doubt way to warm hibernation necessary
full porcelain river moon matching what nobody
could ever find here on Earth

Rented World Serenade

Time tears away
the clay-white sky
    underneath
more clay-white sky.

Even when I've named it
sky
      clay
I know it is blue
and this is
          what I write about
          don't you?

The rented world is worth
ideal gardens
all the weeds--

yards and fountains
 
   walls

the whole city serenades!

Its song is rain.
Its instrument a soggy
Raven.
Train
hissing.

Treatise Spice R

The world out there little more than little
Ideas I've hobbled wild horses in the canyon
To be auctioned-off sorry they don't make
Good pets not trained and anything but
Obedient images grazing heads down loyal
With eyes sleepy from the watching

Es Zieht

Along the wall it's alive
a line of defense

after the close of the cafe
that's the place I get to

the place of forgotten rains
small animals and smells
so sweet it's all I'm imagining.

Splenda

Behind the fact that all is not well
the folded cardboard
against the concrete wall soaking
overnight drizzle
against daytime.

The choice is sugar in the raw
sugar or sweet n low.
If you're wanting honey
you have to ask.

Book Club School Dropout

Two strikes against showing up fluorescent
effervescent or even omniscient with presents
tables chairs--enough more than enough present
cider quite thick and stout with a large head presence
keeping everyone young, noses, time to present

books

thin strung-out long-limbed
tales of Old Mexico and even a shark
in one title how could reading be discussed
without reading?  I mean

what are your qualifications?  How do you
look in the bath, reading, I mean? 
What kinds of kids do you have?  Speak

speak about the book only it is very informal here.
By the way--exactly my dream apartment.

The Lake

We have always enjoyed the time there When we could find it
all that fog Underneath We saw the lake It was love of course
At first sight Just by taking one look even feeling alone

The lake found us, Found our follies the scuttling clouds
Hanging just above it Above the lake We were up so high
looking for that accomplishment forever finding the lake

Barely Above

Elbow hamstring eyes ears back down
twigs branches love holding until spring
no question of fir spruce and cedar
waiting out the thousand year meander.

The ifs and whens hiding grey fur
soggy refrigeration dripping soaking
sky island just barely above flood line.

Schnitzwasser Lullabye

Drippings from the blue spruce
bang the slush around small
the pear the plum the apple
finally easy sky.

A slow mo ache for more.
How we all belong to the day
repairing it hour by long hour.

Brambles I Have Known

Spider webs I have seen Close up like in a movie of Nettles,
their healthful properties Fine until any sort of idea occurring
Plush indoor ideas of Shelter, water, fire, fireplace.

Toss in some glass eyes, tiny seeds and the poets are happy.
Also, there's the solar system and what all else.  Water
Has become quite popular again, and violence more or less.

The Shape Of A World Existing

Imagine the shape,
shadows rake up the buildings
imagine all the rest.   How did
we lose it away?
Bricks and wind and rain.
I got that all by reading
into the nothing spaces,
in line with all the news under The Sun
dreading its return  (I must)
demure another day.

Ingots, Bracelets, Coins

Probably someone wept
when the hoard arrived
in its chunk of clay
never again to be in situ
that place where its resting
said more often than its sum
in a sequence.

Now war can commence!
Who would be able to say these words
in the new Kingdom I see what's been
going on between centuries
strange and hard to pronounce
what cannot be willed away
is gold.

Curtains move
well they thrash
in the winter storm
these foothills
at sea.

Center of Town

Well now we live in the center of town
Every night green dancing lights abstract
Glowing just so tall even taller than our building
The dark buttes are shrimps next to the town
It used to be the other way around not counting
Trees of course how could anyone forget
The tire shop situation remains exactly the same
This report has unlocked the past way past
Other towns have gone away yet this one merits
Early trains their moaning groans forks and spoons
Plates at the ready just like this report one for the books
Inky rivulets decorate the windows bumpy and shining

Gone To The Lock

A man gets
what a man
travels past
at the lock
water letting out
just

stand and watch.
The day is fine.
What happened here
when I was watching?

Alone with folk
ballads

alone with
the lock.

Mountain

You finally let me lead
on up ahead the rope lets out
and there it is

after all our teamwork
the high passes
above eagles
yet below the geese
we see many friends
their carved faces

Avalanches are heard
before realizing it is the end
each word could trigger
what I do not want
that which flags and wheels
are good

are great because of our pulling up
slipping down is a given so is sliding
into the past and this existing

Where

This the place
he sang about--

could only describe its shimmering windows
reflecting a fire the sky held onto

difficult poetry and its poets
inside gathering evidence
then tearing it into tiny pieces
only he could read
with little difficulty.

What was the point?
The point was in the telling
and how he became difficult
kept trying to get away
to that place every time
the place disappearing
after awhile its birds its wildlife

strange and moody its language
oozing so much sweet meaning.

Ansichten Eines

The public leaves
they are supposed to.
I am the public lock unlocking.

My public does not leave
because I don't want
to quite unlock my leaving.

I said I found the place
where I belong
I can't tell you its name.

I sang my songs of long ago.
I sang my songs of now.
I was cool.  I almost died.

The edge reached up
held me like a father.
I missed my chance

or so I thought of nothing else
jangling my keys waiting
for Mr. Bojangles,

Unmolding Bavarians

Bavarians cling to the sides of a mold with powerful suction.  It is usually enough to dip the mold in hot water for 15-20 seconds (30 seconds for a frozen Bavarian) and then invert it onto a serving platter.  If the Bavarian remains stuck in the mold, keep it inverted over the platter, lift one side of the mold a little bit, and insert your finger between the mold and the Bavarian to break the suction.  The Bavarian should slip right out of the mold and onto the plate. 

--from Dessert University, Roland Mesnier, Simon Schuster, 2004

 

The herd did not want her

did not stand still

their hooves growing coats      thick

needing rocks       meadows    winter

mud   rivers                    while she

was away.

 

This took some time      getting         used to

as it             always        did.  The young ones

now immune to her        particular    disease

now forming         their own regroupings    divisions.

 

Was it         always        this way?  Was     she

the odd addition   swimming   across

where it was         t        o        o                 w       i         d        e

getting         carried        further

down

          stream

taking longer & longer to get back

each time.

The Black Flame Part Two

Her voice
a tambourine
shaking glitter songs
throughout Toretta.

It was the black flame

pouring dreams
into tree shapes
left cooling.

I Must Demure

So that black flame that shadow
was a projection of the far future
on the green convent wall
Europe's last remaining tree
the Bear's fur stroked
into fiery points
in song in art song.

The North hearing
ribbons and branches
the wind telling
there's no going back.
There's no waiting.

All Was Said

When all was said and done
the town
was just
another place
the train
ran
thr
ou
gh.

We Have A Cloth Filter

It has to stay in water after it is used.
Where is it?
On the counter.
Where is it?
It is in the plastic container.
It has to stay in there after it is used.
Dream and then wake up tomorrow.

The Motions

Frost roasts everything.
lawn's hackles, roses.
against nets.
birds scooting
leftover skies, short flight.

All buds shut, caught.
asking nothing.  Light
upside down, dangling.
mint the cold recipient.
of love and loving.

 

The Black Flame

The black flame is visible
to nobody to everybody
woodpile stained frozen
winter shade winter flowers
smoke following

the mountain, snow-rinsed
cedar and fir underside
frozen air, heavy fog
sun lasting until four

clinging
to the tops of trees
the falcon stays there
watching us point back
where we were just walking.

Tina's Braces And Mom's Retainer

Beautiful teeth
those two
she women--

hair
op-positional

soft pillows.

They of the
overlooking.
Tell me!  Please tell!

What was it you wanted to say?
To me.  To me.  The secret ingredient.
Of long ago Oil of Olay diligence
excluding ordinary anguish.

This Day Threw Me

It threw me to you
magic ache.

Whorl not just a word.

Desire being pants fitting just so
and wearing them
always.  Let H. D. deal
with all those fruits

all those flowers.

Rosy Dawn Of The Corporation

Grazing land.
Wool,
Impoverishment,
Displaced.
Traumatized.
After serving terms--
English Angels.  Irish Devils.
Taken from indigenous farmers.

Lazy commoners!
Suppression of women--
1550-1650.  Thanks.  Giving.

Split Moon With Onion Idea

One was wild under the pear tree
The other was, well, the other

It was impossible to decide
If it helps any--

One was a clown
And the other clownish

All this went into daylight
Part of the mix

We could be deciding this forever
Look up, the moon dividing itself

Splitting again, which part is better?
Before or after

Almost crazy to write about a painting
but there it is with its three parts

Farm To Fable Direct

Halfway across an ocean.  Still
was not far enough away.
Then, direct statements:  too much
not enough.  Her thinking.
What does she envision?
Grains, roots, hard cheeses.
Parsley, kale, mint
from the garden.  Should she
continue the nightmare.  Trying.
Dr. Oz would like the effort.
Dr. Phil weighing in a solid no.

Friends

Yes, they have dissolved
been patched up again
then seem as something else
entirely.  What  I count on.
But who can live inside a collage?
Trees, rivers, hawks and eagles
along the freeway corridor.
I sought Salem and found
a velvet pin cushion
felt more comfortable
thinking of their wings.

Untangling La Tengo

When all is said
and done
there are no words
sad enough
plain enough
for meaning so

listen.  Hear
where
you just
were--

the W.O.W. Hall's
Scorpio quiet.

Flash In The Pan

The miners sat at the table.
Long legs of the wolf.  Same stare.
Give my regrets to the airport.
See all my friends.  The curious buildings.
Preserved as Nome.  The place

with no name.  Give my regards to
Front Street.  To my kith and kin.
The musk ox is a small buffalo.
The one that got away.  But there
are others.  See them?  With the others.

Working Away

He pointed to a white wolf.  The bear
was caramel. Up there, four months
is your life.  We weren't supposed to talk
but we did and I asked about everything
that I had encountered.  The point wasn't
there anymore.  Wasn't taken.  Not
as I remembered it.  All worry

and bumpy.  The divide
in the distance.  Plus, my mind
was focusing on the willows, still,
and not those short flowers and their path--
purely imaginary until they made it
to camp all these years working.
Slaves in the summer
winters quite royal.

More about the berries, the people,
the animals, and the town
to be continued.

Breathing, Seeing The Sun, Having Somewhere To Sleep

What we get.
Alive in air.
Seeing

where to sleep

breaking

river
trees

sun climbing out
only months away.

Worshipping Mars

Do we have enough bullets
bombs missiles?

Do we have enough
hate outlasting hate?

Is blood really gold
inside the red planet?

When do we put away
silence and begin seeing?

Why is it called daybreak
heartache's  dumb turning?

The Town And The City

Around the corner 
daylight all business
night is when Eugene

is pulling

that citizen.  The one holding
an imaginary key
opens volcanic knobs
the swollen river

Living on smokes
Metropol bread and brie. 

For Awhile

Only down the road
reading stories of trees
mynahs bedding down
so loud

after fifteen minutes
puddles long gone
I made it home

There are words
just before the moon
indicating

mattresses and couches
all soaked through but still
belonging

Levis And His Couches

                      let's say
we travel along with him
let's say
                       we love the twilight zone

where should we park our bones

strapped up on top is the old mattress
the old couch my idea of Eugene

the grime of the mill turning out
beautiful shapes

                         Meet me there
nervous I'm anxious
our tea is growing
hot house flowers

marrying trees
birds outside this place?

Crisis Garden

This is called
My Crisis Garden

and this

The Lily At Home
Changing

Dripping
Into the earth
The land into other spaces
The lava alive
Then cool
Our love and the memory
Windows

My mind ate the cheese
but I did not

Klimt's Poppy Field

Remember
so much fruit
grass
wild flowers.
Counting
points
buttery.  Little
glowing stones
in trees

and how they
spoke to her.  What
they said
she was lost
disappearing
into blues
into twisting limbs
corkscrews
dancing

another shape.  Trees
green flowers!

They moved wind.

Clouds spots
on the sky animal.
They prayed
into.

When I Was 13

No matter what
my favorite things
were cliffs and edges
figuring out the way down
how hard I tried (worlds) (strange)
words familiar (close)
Shumagin, Schurz
looking so difficult
to decipher--I could not see
Hand, heart, life, eye
this way?  No.
where they were going
at all.  Up. Down.
Western Nevada:  the spirit
hiding in the grass
I could not interpret
no matter what.

Silence

Clouds sit on the ground.
False eagles find food.  Angels
whipping up the air
attempting the same flight.

What we said was true.
The white cat creeping
along the fence line.
Death is two syllables
only one symbol.

Embroidery Pattern #1972

Lots of work in the principality.
Orders from Albert:

Mend the aprons, hoist the sails, we never use aqua, pink, or brown
in our embroidery our design is of the caribou
and they’re always on the move.

 My own project was building a round stone

somewhat like papier-mâché
from Die Sieben Geisslein, The Seven Little Goats

they sewed a stone into the belly of a wolf

when he was sleeping so he couldn’t move--

 only heavy as lead a small planet or moon with layers.

 They say life is like an onion or is that art?  

 

I made

a miniature of the bomb nobody knew about

until Mom began telling us up in Nome

while the TV channel showed footage of Vietnam

while Dad was gone on trips to frozen villages and their  small islands.

Tina

got the parts about surviving but thought those

came with instructions whispered by Albert only she could hear

because they were coming from nowhere else.  Dad didn’t know

until a decade later when Mom decided to tell him. 

Corine

pointing to objects in the air only she could see dropping.

Then falling down in the snow fort built of blocky chunks

right by the shipping container I made into a play house

tried my hand at sleeping there at forty below

giving up and going in only at pitch dark. Our neighbors

were into Elvis and Evel Knievel.  We let them play.

Their Bomb Shelter

I just remember it home made
so we didn't have to go over to the church
my dad thought we would drown over there
because of the water pipes he was right in a way
where the paters lived it did flood another bomb

damaged their place that part
it goes all the way down to the cellar
that was the official bomb shelter you can't explain
helter-skelter you would be trapped rubble dirt cement
things falling over

I remember when my dad and (and Polish prisoners) went and took
a wardrobe, a Kleidershrank into the bomb shelter the nice clothes
of everybody it was a bomb shelter supposed to protect you my
beautiful red dress was in shreds after I was really sad about it

I really have the dark hair my cousin had dark hair also and her
sister hated her didn't speak to her and her son and my dad
was the blond one there was so much seething hatred
even royals got bombed had to fight warriors to the end

Fear Of Frost

The fig tree needs covering
whole thing
even its sides
branching
under the green tarp.

Frost will fall tonight
from up the Umpqua--

Mt. Scott's shaggy mane
clear cut slopes knobby protrusion.

To say bathos is quite popular
but I took the road travelled
less by red-tailed hawks
more when I was a deer.

Memoir So Far

The day was bad the horse ran away.
My memoir had to wait to live--
brambles and poison oak
were its pages.
Sticks the birch shed.  What I wrote it with.
And the cover!
Clouds mixed with two parts dog
half dew
half cat
half fattened calf.

Didn't you run away once?
Fans ask this frequently.
I remember it more like chasing
in my memoir.  It is my memoir after all.

For Your Fable

Swale sunset precisely at five ten

egg mc muffin made with real fable
hen sitting in the dark answering
branches cracking 

living room cave 

kitchen a clearing 

rusty copse

no officers 

we did not see him 

running away

Rain Securing Dust

Even the sweet foal next door
Noticed the sheriff his deputies
Tromping up and down the road
After the attempted robbery lights
Flashing a coal-black shepherd
Leading the way to Marney's trees
One officer held up a syringe locating
Douglas County on a Sunday morning
Weak fog Ravens too high overhead
To solve this puzzle remember how
Empty the fish ladder is appearing
The little house no good for fugitives
But they looked and searched anyway
For anyone hiding our hearts shrinking
Dad flat on his back the rest of the week
There were glitches in FaceTime happening
Those worked out depending on minutes

Especially Umpqua

The season is slow to change
slowly turning down blankets
on its banks its rivers and creeks
rivulets and swales the ditches
especially the Umpqua's valleys
oaks their brown leaves brittle
holding branches not letting go

We're looking for the fox
at the same place we pass
each time after Metz Hill
meridian widening the size
of a small country all ferns
It's not there nor is a carcass
a relief soon forgotten again
in a trance driving there's fog
mist catching on the slopes

You are here with us we see
everything more that we did
more than usual this season
refusing to go to sleep it's
supposed to be at least 68
today and almost the same
tomorrow this time I'm lying
it will be cooler tomorrow

My Wordle

Wordle was my teacher
in the larger scheme of things.

My pants
in Nevada--
crazy crosswords going
every which way.  Right on brother
sister and peace and joy and love.

No matter where
we saw the same Great Basin
and then suddenly didn't
mountains and their sage
getting in the way scratching.

Exactly like Wordle
but it isn't and then it is when
it isn't that's me walking with Dad
around the block and Shumagin
prancing his malamute dance
tail curling and cottonwoods shedding.

I Mean

Sometimes I could really see him
Wearing velvet
Smoking a cigar
He was the little prince
Harold and his purple crayon
But wearing bright red.

He was unapproachable
And very protective.
It went both ways.

He probably had the bright idea
practicing "walking the line"
After a can of Dad's beer
At Tina's birthday party
In the third grade.

He probably told Tina
I was the big tattle-tale
That time and later
She was immune
To the cat food pate'
I served up on crackers
Maybe that's why.

Dear Monsieur Albert

Please tell Tina to speak
the sister competition is off
 finis

Should I address you as Alpert
(Herb) Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

The album we hated most
in Mom's collection, musically

The one we looked at
more than Woodstock--
Corine stuck on Marty Robbins'
Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs

Is that where your name comes from?
Was there a battle I missed?  Not counting
Mom and Dad and that summer of John.

Is this the possible reason for your Ezra Pound
silence?  A protest against the past any mention
of it now

The voice you use in your work
is the one you use in real life, Monsieur

Please use this voice to tell her
I've come to no conclusions

Please tell her I admire her pergola even though
I called it a credenza by mistake trying to sound
international

Please tell her that the stuff about spraying
and having to spray the wicker furniture
underneath the credenza--

I'll use pergola
so I don't appear so foolish
plus that is what it was

Missing Years

between those decades
Trees grew attitudes

fragile kiwi and peach
Against the high rises

tame geese
Bats claiming more

this list without you
My sad bench no longer

waits as it did
Tucking into green

miss you next to the fountain
look at its light splashing

Millrace Spectres

Now it is the future
with its no trace
of Agripac

With holes looking out
the steam plant's
impossible windows
one light left on
for us?
To come in and begin
again?  A patrol of the cages
wires and splicing--
extra rags in our dungarees
creating something out of nothing
that would be our job

Too-sweet pancakes
at the diner its name escaping
because it was right there
customers obvious
the Four O'clock
wasn't that the name?

Upriver cormorants in the snag--
their ancient throats singing
the same silent gulping song
in the sun
we walk along
looking at everything
twice as much as before

When The World Was A Clock

I lived inside an almond
not one named Steve, please
but machine, nonetheless
broken into parts--
a surgeon.

In attendance.  On a shelf.
One day, I became a flower.
Mind, a leaf.

We are ever in the time
of the bad cupids--

Tell them to leave
listen for ticking.
Truths.

Now, this and that really happened.
We are too busy sorting to even look up
except when we enter the forest.

Floyd Skloot Mister Amazing

Hope lives magic waiting
Old Gold
Parisian Blue
Mr. Osprey Mr. Sand Mr. Dream

Night Life

How can I leave the apartment knowing
you died out there years ago
strangers without houses conversing
your street not exactly quiet but also exactly
the same at 2 a.m. Remember that guy
going door to door selling buttons
exotic wood and how
I thought that would likewise
be my future only the wood
dense without any animals
dark danger living stumps
did the same idea pass through
awhile ago just asking

Tales To Tell

Miles to sleep
Before I weep

Tea to drink
Under the drip

Clouds are cloudy
Trees have wings

I miss driving
It didn't seem

House of Starlings

Get up and go
to the place Bride never went

it's the river's task
undulating
reason with bright leaves

The Big

Thoughts were left there
A big question mark
The missing person

Could not answer

but is supposed to

The fields are wet
Their mouths so dry

Only three blocks away
I live in their shadow

Buildings absorb the sun--
the dust is kept down

usual life not as usual
as murder everyday

Apple Cider

La Grande Drive In
closed for the season
what decade is this
valley flat
boxcars whining
night of no agreement
there is another elk

Ladd Marsh

They were interested in removing
Any trace but that was after the fact
In the investigation The criminal
Remained condemned possibly
Remembered for more than
What seemed to be meat
Along the roadside we name it
Roadkill
When we are too late
Closing our eyes to the crime

Mind Of Its Own

I had them take a picture
Just to see its eye
however evil
the oyster flying at night
Not that great of a hiding place
my opinion a rocky landscape
my fertility for all to see
we're not talking zip codes
or even time zones
finally rid of futile things
crushing them smaller
a large project

Convex Mirror Tina

Tales of her teddy bear hamster.
Begin and end here.

She didn't spend much time weeping.
That was me.

I was the one with the bag on my head.
Sure it was paper but that still counts.

She spent endless hours regarding powder puffs.
I noticed that the world was existential.  Especially Dad.

She wrote off all of us.  She wrote as a spider.
Even Albert was jealous.  That was the secret not The Secret.

Dear Tina

How lucky we were that summer of no parents
where you and I could act young especially me
our sweatshirts saving us again and again from
elements the Lower Fork's deception you forgot
that's what you said although who could believe
a particular seven month-sized stone lived inside me
all those years.  How it hid there like the dickens
how I ignored it even when it was discovered.
To be hiding an organic mystery seemed no big deal.
Even now I think of Doctor B and even H and remember
how they had to go on their family vacations.  Aspen
and Disney.  The Internet said that to be enormously
liked by others it is important to listen not interrupt.
There was also some junk about repetition and reinforcing
but that's ounces too much like teaching which I would
rather avoid for the time being.  Your hometown is waiting
to hear.  How splendid is your silence.  The tarp is open.
Now please get in this time before the others start
screaming.  Charley horses.  Catching light in the dark.

Our Next Conversation

Tina.
But not in this life.
In the hands of the inebriated.
We met then left.
All to chance. Could you say?
Near campfires I find you.
Just a trace of ash.  Dragonflies.
Glass babies and how her sister
spoke about salad in a most irritating.
Way.

Union (city) Blues

Kingfisher
Ring-necked pheasant
All faucets turned on
Cottonwoods
Their line-up

The valley is made
Interesting

How she told about her mother
Who will never die
Never emerge from never land

In A Year Without Berries

Hear it breathing
tugging on something

on your dream

of sheep

big horns
         protruding

curving
cupping

wrapping

nice and hard

into America

what's leftover
on the Middle Fork

tangled in the tarp

then shooting

unlike autocorrect

teeth remaining teeth
climbing

The Transaction

And you
will look at you
and
I will look at me
in our
happy
ever after

Glacier's Pace

Some talk it neat straightening
egos above the many valleys
grimacing strangers
listen distractedly
arranging their pedigrees.

It's liquid not porous.
At least take some comfort
in the halfway meeting
understanding slipping
into miles and miles
freshly scrubbed wheat.

Old Oregon Trail

The henge is

a contented circle
in the middle
of so many angles
criss-crossing dashes
competing elevated designs

as life moves
the hell on.

.

Hill Mansion

I live in a cave
off I-84
the mansion
my days

nights
spent counting
the lights of Biggs
two shades of yellow
reds all the same
green is in the middle

Mosquitos bring news
Something
Happening

This was supposed to be
Hilariously
Not
otherwise

Rest In Peace

Then Mom said someone from yoga
among the dead and her voice
matching
nothing
the fish ladder parking lot
where CNN and all
their dishes pointing
up the Umpqua's
outer space.

A break finally
that struggle
potatoes
in Hollywood
where cooperation smiling
personality friendship happy
occurring back on Earth
solving math problems
not the English ones.

What If Douglas County

We lived on a watery planet.
We depended on a bright orb
hooked on its warmth its being.

Peace and love.  Starlings.  Red-winged blackbirds.
    Douglas fir.  Douglas County.

Would be enough.  

               What if this holding a candle
yes holding a candle.

My LaGrande Hair

A small white gorilla
riding Dad's shoulders

at Winchester

and up the Umpqua
with Mom
posing
in front of
a slab of
old growth

the sun
a weak pewter question

Slinger sd
demure surreal
(a whole new world)

I remember
going
and looking it up.

At tiny tin house
they're avoiding gunmetal

but

muscular is in the literature
quite a bit.

Dontcha know now.

Coyote

Her sadness couldn't be explained

With words

But she tried to become

A ghost anyway

To describe everything.

About the person

About the poet

They are the same

Why split them

Tragically?

One canceling out the other

That's how to proceed

In the game.  Tennis and all.

Chemically.  

Now we read about it.

I think it is about changing places

Disguised as processing and such.

Musical chairs.  Nowhere to sit.

An Open Letter To My Friends At The Illuminati

FYI Friends,
Please include this in the next newsletter
Secret Information for your eyes only!
I go by Ms. instead of Mr.
And I HUMBLY ask of you WTF
do you find so magnetic about my courageous
yet heartfelt poem, the ever so beautiful
"Toadstools" about a small, innocent Oregon
boom-bust mill town?  About the pizza parlor?
I must admit that I've never seen such a gigantic
American flag, either, blighting the I-5
Corridor I mean room suite wing chateau
palace mansion castle national park.  Lake.
Satan could get pizza, shop at Goodwill personally
THEN praise everything the freeway desires--
swinging back round for hot fudge at McDonald's.
There, now I really said it!  Membership pending
I mean canceling I mean the mill burnt down
how many times now rebuilt each time
fewer cars outside the front by the landscaping
lots of bark mulch even some lavender.

What's For

Salmon meat piled on a platter growing cold everyone waiting outside at the table umbrella even with sparkling water picking the carcass her favorite part that can wait for later I say first generation source.  The sun agreeing with the sky a squat falcon in the field neighbor's goats gone all that walking bringing her nearer and nearer instead of far.

Brittle And Flat

It's Halloween now.  The air.  The wind.
The moon is Halloween.  Water too cold
to undo.  Grass brittle and flat, smoothing down
slippery.  Leaves stuck.  The rake bringing up nothing
but dust.  Jealousy.  Birds.  Beginning sun.  Wool dress.

The Italian plum taking a stance.  But the apple trees
steady, confident.  Life of burnt toast.  Mineral water.
Halloween is a month away!  How can it have happened?
Empty shoes waiting.  Nubby cement.  Only steps.
Basalt columns. Just add water.  Just add water.  Heat. 

My Darling Daring

What is here shines larger than my life.
Without a home.  Things are for yesterday.

In between roads I rest.
On yet another road!

We are one country one town.
Trees look far away.  Faces.

She was so upset about the dollar.
We looked for her face but it was nowhere.

I spent it on nothing but a newspaper.
Will we be friends again tomorrow.

What Went

By the wayside dockside
bright on the wall
hats off split words.

I read about language
how it gathers truths
then disperses, oily.

Water.  Sky.  Raven.
All along.  Which.  Al.  k.
alone.

They Spoke Of This

A guy comes from the city
where's the furnace
he went down there
and I thought you're going
to inspect it?  A new power line
they couldn't use the one I had
four and then two and I thought
what the hell and then the landscape
he couldn't have, didn't have a permit
for that.  We did that same thing.  I had
this guy is a professional.  I could look it up.
He told me what to do.  Then the city said.
I never got that permit.  Thirty forty years.
Thirty or forty dollars.  I forgot.  The new ones
you have to bury.  I don't know.  Sat in that one yesterday.
That's just the law.  These aren't going to be easy.

Wait A Minute

It got old sleeping on cement
tiring night after night.
Daytime, the town was a huge dump.
Another regime change.
Future dreams.  At night
we made real plans. Stars and all.

Pillows of dust and blankets of blood
were everywhere.  How
could this happen
while you are pondering this
I am running out of everything
chasing my life down the road.

Just Up Ahead

After three days
earth disappears.

Seeing hearing
crooked
vanishing.

What startles most
catching up
too late.

Wait for me.
Please wait.

Cave Nest

Things have their names.
Not mistaken.  Look here.

A pine
right out
in the open.

In front of the cavern.
Fun shadows at night.

Ravens getting.
Somewhere.

You Can Take It All With You

There is no other choice.
The dust the dirt comes with you
does not shake off
new clothes
shoes for two years
from now.
Mind not taken but left behind
under the rubble
where someone else
might have a use for it
someday
when you're really gone
when you've really left.

Eugene vs. Eugene

There's always Coburg
give me Coburg.

The hills hump up.
Hamburgers.

Scratchy boar.
Geese on the fly.

Eugene vs. Maupin

Uncle Ray
would.



    still

be


                      alone



   with.


so many

Eugene vs. Pahoa

Walk over to the food cart
meet old German prof
foot-stomping independance
Nations dancing singing day
into night rain starting.

here is where
There is

Look here
salt.

Their Language

to speak it

whisper above

a whisper.     mainly

with others
Who come from elsewhere too

it will be a long time

like never
derelict muse

we'll call this early fall

you are in your office
and the hours ahead
loopy squirrels

All Normal

Eugene leaves smelling earth salad
River returning cold summer empty
Our tree has a baby growing
in the soft bark mulch cannot tell
who is a hobo and who works
bikes rule the path either side
thinking they are the ones first
too fast all normal now the train

Missing Places

See those trees their outlines
translations of wind little rain

pears that dropped
swallows reunited.

See to today
bringing hellish smells

past Fair Oaks
we saw the tall flames

lingering so the sun
seeing it remembering.

No, not fire bombs
but looking sounding.

Bedside Table

The figs have ripened sweet
roses love the heat
circles air and leaves
red wing blackbird
somewhat stray

delicious
Normal
bloom

walking

year will be
amusing too
have you

How To Run From The Funeral

First of all
don't stop.
A green shopping bag
will not clear the way
into the safe zone.
Please tell me
when you find it.
Please let me know
how you got through.

What is waiting?
Clear air
little dust

broken buildings
left behind

they marry it today
children marry it

regular life
somewhere underneath
what is called rubble
polite term

bones of a city
everywhere
open casket.

Goodbye My Shaniko

Mute tongues
Rafts are

dumb language
returning

surely
elderberry

ponderosa
willow

painted hills
round corners

tell me why
noontime crowds

Mumble
into ears

petrified mud
magpie  wind

the same farm
careening

knobby ridge
hiding

Mainly

Winter labors near
The salmon
Leaves whipping

love wears
A purple sweater
Out of nowhere

Mergansers
Kingfisher
Wet Sage

Milk Street

Silt lining the pool

There's the river nearby

Some do not know

Which way

Is up

At the end

There are

Three strong taps

To the head

The net spinning round

Twisting still

Almost as large

As the men

Carrying them

By the gills

To the trees

Twice As Quiet

Super moon wind down the canyon
All is well smoke dampened by rain
What did we learn here?  The school.
Walking the track after work before dinner
Tired anyway twenty-three the highest count
Quail along the fence an osprey making its way.
Now the kids are back, cars in the lot the river
Bigger than before with a quiet only heard twice.

Deschutes: River of Ghosts

Someday the river will be normal again.
Nothing holding it back not even Pelton.

Not even Lake Billy Chinook.
We are on our way for the last time.

Winter smells like October.  Paulina's murder.
The crew danced in a circle.  Whiskey.  Tequila.

It was time to leave after loud discussions.
All about the river.  Blue and green slipping.

The lines get tangled when I think of him straight.
Away it went when I was finishing.  Fears.  Doubts.

Then Fossil I hope we can squeeze that in.
Cottonwood Creek is next summer.

Time To Play The Bagpipes

Wet ghosts waving
cold water not warm enough
Then too warm then too cold.
How will it be in one hundred years
Now it is one hundred years
thought riding the tracks
see where they derailed watching
Train Wrecks Of Wasco County.

Summer Wind

What wind
at night
what noise
The train
instead.

Summer Rain

I was asked to write about it
Upset about the ride so far
What to do but keep going
The look the plain agitation
This unceasing travel maybe
Lucky enough we'll see above
The elevated language raining
Now on the sage nothing better

Region

In the early enough
Let's face it
Before you know it
Trouble ahead
Cypress

Dream of nothing
It doesn't hurt
Will go away
Someday this
Will all be
Grapes

Just remember
Lives spent
Impatient
Remembering
Wheat

We would die
Under the memory
Taking
Anything
And everything
Olives

Dreams So

Our dreams so small American
big under the magnifying

glass that is more than a little dusty
images appearing so large

Our fingers waiting for ourselves
action we took no looking back

faces memorizing lovely smiles disappearing
Where are the trash cans for the trash we are not

Their words will eat them some day
then they will know what we have been

leading me back to your face
fearless hearts faces naming

dreams counted on an inch
given another mile wide moon

Fall Run

The rest falling away
Old wall painted
Over with the fresh
And just knowing
About the layers
Making it seem solid
And thicker
Our lives:
Rain wind sun
The real river
There, underneath.

Dreams of Long Ago

Milk air
Close mountain
Baby snake
Lost
On the sidewalk
In back
Of Depot House
Too cold
To move.

Details West

Those were the details
Added in later
With a gunshot
A signature
With a rope
A silence
The handshake.

What matters
ospreys sitting

Smoke-filled
Fires everywhere

Up and down
The plateau

Its river fingers
Running cold
Over old lava beds.

Sleepless In Maupin

Nightmares, continuing on
into the next day

Featuring
Vice
my P.O.s





       (Vice Principals

Chasing me into the teacher's lounge
Their radios copying the principal, security

Scholastic magazine purchase order

Rejected

Three times)    For.).  Not.)     Meeting.)

The. )
Standards.


The answer is both
Both are correct
All of the above
miles of bubble sheets
brain' s lone silo
Now full now filling.

Let's Go Grand Island

He said he went to Florida with his wages
Rode the bus at 16 then went fishing
Looked around no that wasn't why
To the Sandhills for the farm job
Colorado dude ranch summer railroad yard, no it wasn't those but

Nebraska itself so huge so big a given going then returning.  Even though nothing changing in what he called Cold Oatmeal which made it disgusting sounding and not funny ha ha.

Melon Slice Moon

Laughing cow moon
My white jeans with writing all over
Letters saying wow and groovy
Stop war
Now

Melon slice moon
Smoked salmon bite
Owning all the power
Another word
Hanging

That's why I'm here finally dawning
Eugene hustle and bust like before
The long journeys full of thinking
And not much else supposedly
Things right where I left them

Downstream

Let out from the bottom of the dam
water is too cold
to smell the way up
the way back
this time of  year.  This is

what they say what they tell.

The problem is further downstream.
Larger, nearly impossible.

Beautiful town.  Stars
      turning    over
          in their graves.

Post Order

The smoke: poor vision   the strain: cloudy
overhead jam on I-5   wary    taking hours
in the canyon valley plateau   corridor    heat
remembering the volcano last year
hurricane a few days worth    taking months
later     to get over thought it    behind now

One Place Then Another

Monday of my life.
Cars rolling down Bakeoven Road.

Colder than the previous.
Sheep were the factor.

All that's in my head gets wasted.
Forgotten tea bag on the sink.

Speculating does not help.
What returns will longingly return.

Hanging there on the Warm Springs
Huge rippling white cloud.

At noon the siren just like in Nome.
The whistle just like in Schurz, Missoula, Reno, Roseburg, Sutherlin, Eugene.

Intermittent Animals

They live shadowy then full sun August
Under trees sage shadows in the morning
Afternoon too peppered with light flowers
Who can tell them apart who can judge.

The Smoothing

The town is a student of sage hills
The plateau, and its Middle Oregon tribes.

The falls are in the shadow of the old hotel
Now gone the orchard of bachelor apples
Now gone but the county is the size of pie.

The fish vibrant but what's in a name?
Steel metal all colors of breaking light
Cold underneath riding old lava beds
the memory of it waiting, watery.

Bluster

I asked if this wind could possibly
be from Shaniko
the answer was no

I asked if my life had meaning
if the grass all sleeping flat until fall
animals sitting in its stubble
along the corridor how did I get

Wrong gear up the hill from The Dalles
when I left them all standing around
their mouths tightly closed so this is what
it will be like on down the road so quick

Life over, the Rainbow Tavern painted pink
oh I get it now enjoying the view across

What thanks can I offer?  Sage seems like nothing
until you get really close and forget about breathing

Berry Humidity

The chip on his shoulder
buffalo variety
he said this life enough
to go through his many
disappointments.

Southern smoke
settling in
the Umpqua
soft edges
river glittering
smooth going.

Their roses
so thirsty the metal.

Wood chip heaven.
The brick building in town.
Thoughts sloppy, repeating.

Waiting For The New American Hot Club

Driven mad by pain
before the dew
evaporating
their steps are fast
schedules in hand
her stage name is Black Velvet
she goes by Crumbly or just
plain Kitten everybody knowing--
more kettle corn?  Some bottled
water?  A good place on the grass
just past the small tree hanging on
last time running back to fields

Leaving

She will see her sisters she's
waited her whole life this year
gone quick the day dreaming
always traveling to or away
from them counting their blessings
tough nuts fall from the oaks
along the scenic highway
onto basalt onto the surface
roll a little in the wind always
a surprise a joy seeing long ago.

Ospreys practice building their nests
along the corridor sometimes taking awhile
to get the hang of it starting out.

Glamping

I thought she was my mother
Even looking a little like my aunt
But they weren't she wasn't.

She takes her time, does not get
To the bottom of the map

her words are gardens with lots of paths
benches, pots, gazebos

Corners filled with light
Then cool mystery.  Leaving
meeting.  The depot.  Obsessed
With June.  Everything about her.

What could they find out

About nature, tenacity
retreating to the cafe
Holding up their hunger
To the incoming light.

Shaniko Revisited

Wool center of the world
Rattlesnakes right in town.

Miles away the river.
To measure

Look at the trail
Where it stops

Picks up again
Peaches, plums.

.

Eau Plateau

Where the only women who interested Lucien Manners, they told Arabella, were long-dead ones--like Cleopatra and Dido and Sappho--none of whom had anything in common with an empty-headed model girl, far too young for her age, whom Lucien described as as "street Arab."  Arabella had better just stop thinking

stranded in Greece with money,
Christine was grateful for the help
of Nicholas Martinos--
but it must stop at gratitude, she told herself firmly.

It was
inevitable that Nick would marry

Lovely Mariga,
Who had known him all his life.         But Christine
found Serena            was almost desperate
"lifelong security" to the successful
applicant.

It was a move that was to take her to far-off Chile, to a husband she had never met--and to what else?

To make matters worse,

Their host, the powerful and attractive Rory Stevens, had somehow acquired their uncle's property--and refused to say how.

What The

It never matters how many years
Grief sharpens up they don't return
But you return to them instead you
With your sunflowers  and funny hats
Hand around a stone so smooth.

The space too large even for the queen
of Rumania her dress its embroidery
silver wheat dripping stars golden
Blocks for sitting, leaning, sleeping
Above carved basalt woven tules
Beads everywhere pipes blankets.

Under Laminate

Sweet body fat from salt the signs
Talk about weaving and mashing
Drying and trading.

A big wheel
In the background.

Stand up in this wind
Mixing it all together--
Diamond memory
of sun basalt
Ghosts of
Constant
crashing sound.

Trees, Waterfall Stars

Big round around
please paint me here
use dark moss and ponderosa
find the other shade
one close to
waterfall stars.

This punctuation lasts and lasts and last
see what happens attention lingering.

Entirely

Blazing heat cruel sage nubby
basaltic hardscrabble sage velvet

Together

They need the train to roll.  The stock
Is a powerful horse.
Wanting to run and then
Getting to.  That is freedom.

They do stop to eat
On their way to Bend
I just put two and two.

Lore

between the icy water
and the air set to bake
at a million degrees

Feel it
the only place it exists

A parallel corridor
Thickness
Just a few feet

This subtraction
what we came for
Dear grain elevator
Dear drug

We Have Always Lived In The SpAceship

The spAceship has always
         lived in us
mother, father, our rebus owls

Outside is a river with water

Too cold to swim

The color of a grape

And
See the sMall copse
Down there

In the canyon gorge
igniting
aversion

We lOOk and lOOk

The Shamen

In the yellow house why didn't?
It was supposed to be perfect.  Stupid.

he was giving and giving.  Difficult.
Changing and changing.  That's the drama.

He wanted a lot.  nowhere.  Beliefs.
They knew everything exactly

Their faces were beautiful.
Outlaws without the bankroll.

true in the blood rapid
Their dying expression.

Up A Creek

When I am shot
After!
Beating the odds

Just a whiff

Hours I've spent dreaming
saying I have no dreams

This life dangerous
Beautiful in spite of
What they call it

Hiding out in the open
In the tunnels

There is no
Middle of           things

That's when

You'll find me



Low        to

the ground

Even    in it

Waiting

Out

the        heat

🐴😂sister tell me

Sister tell me
About the crawl😘
Is this beneath you😭
Underneath you
Free😳
As long
As           You.   Get.  

Now you mow lawns😃
The old regime thoughtfully😜

inside 😁  writing
Letters
Saying😣
You're really this time
Dead😒

All The Water

Fresh out of the mountain
An arm hanging
Opened fruit
How could we leave
Our short lives behind
stay here with me upriver
Stones will be our furniture
sage pillows, a carpet of sand
Feet finally quiet

Look

At
The

Immense
moving

Liquid

Ignoring wind

Going

ahead with it

Redsides

He wasn't there at Trout Creek.  Wapanita is another matter.  Then it might be good to check at Upper Dant after getting a looksee at Harpham Flat, Nena, and Locked Gate.  I imagine he went to Dixon, maybe on to Wingdam.

Backwater

They blush telling
Big and even bigger
With the steelhead
In the fall.  What
Was so important

The race downriver
Not thinking it won't
Come back Klickitat

Fire Downriver

I remember when Mom was in love.  She didn't act different, just calmer and more determined.  Who would've thought of oaks left in the canyon but there they are.  Sage, twin fawns, white-tailed Kites, vultures, and ospreys carrying fish, carrying sticks, crowding the oasis.  A fire helicopter stirs up a wall of distance. We ended up hating John at the pizza parlor.  We loved him before she did. He was ours until she stole him from us that summer.  Then, Dad was the dangerous Class VI it would do no use to scout. John was good with ropes and with the necessary triangulation, carefully and somewhat tediously calculated for the best advantage. Victims.  Which we obviously were, which she obviously was.  The most important thing to remember if you dump over is don't panic.  Wait for your chance to breathe.  Wait out all those bubbles.  Then find the tongue.  Point your feet downstream and look for the nearest eddy, the nearest shore. That's what you want to find. And don't forget to swim.

Notes From The Underwood

Over time firm footing logical crashing
Explaining a lot about why we're here
I mean me when I say we so I don't seem
Lonely and weird just weird is quite enough
To begin with.  Hearing about it
I can now see what was there but I didn't
Put two and two together.  Finland
And all.  It was about knots and ropes.

The rescue.  What type of victim?  A
Three will blackout.  A
Two will try
To climb over pulling you down
To drown.  A
one will do exactly as told.

Alone Moonlight

Struggle defined.  Roots tree fingers
Passing through colors through surface
To get to nothing.  Gnarled
surface.  Being in a place not quite.

Not so fast.  Wagon wheels.  Their implements.
Window dressing.  Hardscrabble.  Hand me down
To each blade petal twig branch offering best.
The news from there more than sunny
With rain.  Alone Daylight.  Moonlight.

Welcome To Glass Mountain

Nature's furnace
Hard at work
The other self
At little crater
Round the bend


The the story about the glass mountain

The obsidian flow
Ponderosa
Disorganized atoms
As opposed to organized

See it in the trees
Vanilla puzzles
Carefully growing

Thoughts about the artist
Not separate from anything
About my life

Cones

Look at all the pine
Cones
I mean spruce cones I
Mean fir
Needles
Large rodents
Eat their bark
Their fur
Prized
For hats and things
The spindly mountain top
Such a flat tail
Once were bear-sized
They position their
Twigs and sticks

Whisper To My Mother

Not so fast nicht so schnell
I cannot hear your answer
should I pack my tambourine
before we head out
to the desert
imagination in ruins
consequence instead
smooth river
summer alongside

Diamond Lake each wavelet
a glistening tarot card

didn't one say to pay attention

summer is short
we don't spend too much time
watering the trees
but a little each day
remembering

I thought about Shaniko some more
thought about my behavior there

The boardwalk hollow
the only thing alive

Antelope looked shady
lawns with people

there were more faces
in the rocks this time

right above the falls
where it narrows

ripples curling wizened
into late July

Je Suis Désolé Mon Frere

They are singing in the desert
imagination slithers to water
signs, trees, lights, action

The message is clear
but it is so dry so dry
our throats are human
eyes moist
dancers
please listen

Blackberries

The field
its memory
of water
the day
its ocean
wind

finding them
is not hard
holding them

a small panther
silver bowl

Passion Card

It said follow
all those
don't be afraid
they multiply wild
wind is good
water an afterthought
right by Scan Design
just down from the butte
where the view of the jail
is out in the open
noise from the train
all hours so much
don't hear it after

Kerouac Haiku

Fires
in the great bowl
keep us
on the green side
sitting pretty
I think of the silt
the river's milk
how we didn't go in
but drove away
just like
they told us
crumbling

Luxury Collage

Micro sure sounds sexy
even the gleaming counters
free of dishes clean sills
so appealing if occupied
would not be anything of
the sort and so easy to step
into the wall of green mixed
with grey imagining winter
already and how it will be
against the eyes two places
multiplied river puzzle pieces

Dusty Drama

What just happened
Trampling the dust
Into the blanket
What and where
Past the altars

taxis deciding
Upon a clown car
Water alongside
As a side car

Their Tree Is Gone

Only a slab left by the steps
very flat their house looks small
now they could be anyone
with an ugly house
their tree made it alive
connected to everyone
and everything air

Notional

There is a mountain
hugging
the oak grove fair to say
embracing black leaves
A small river is scratching
the canyon's throat

Oily weather overcast
Never enough time to love

Dots ticks ruined calla lilies
thirsty for it a large blue bird

Problems of Stances

"I'll tell you some stories...memory and the imagination might modify and transform experience, problems of stances...to order language...Some of that heavy stuff."

Richard Hugo, The Triggering Town, Chapter 8, Ci Vediamo


The moon does not consume
hardscrabble dandelions continuing
what was before to be there before
today is too new
broken zippers

steady winds across steep clear cuts
my pet falcon not my pet
acres frustrated with developments
why do they just bake there?
When I was there it was home.

The tree is not the same
tree the road drops off too sharp.
I looked and looked.
Thinking there was power
in staring but that only
makes them really mad.

The Ticking Clock

Globe with pine trees
Fish leaping lining up
To
Leap
Up
Over the falls
Some say time
Is in the details
Or is it love
all that water
Swirling

Union Pacific

Four deer
At least
Pink sky
Falcon tiptop
Cedar air
Afterall
side by side
Neighbor's silly
Longhorns
Another's
Wishing well

Working Away

It is that the edges
Flowers faces turning west
Deep space deep shade
Found under the house
Pinging of small picks shovels
Just thinking this a secret world
How great a gift what's its worth
Hands on cool stone wishing for bread
jumping back on track despite
crowds their Olympic isolation

Away With It

With names you can get away
adding things that would
just as soon be left out
as if requiring something else
someone else not just here
smoothness of my teeth
Jay scolding
for a good reason
but what is it?

Waxy Growing

Mountain smell
juniper sage pine
dry wooded water
weeping under moon
fast like running away
while standing still
white volcanoes cooling
down flowers
the ocean floor
its door

Zone

White River suddenly

its name
mixing  

nearby scene so distant

milky glacial silt columnar basalt
under Criterion Summit

only time
tells
whether
unquestioned acceptability
hops on board
agenda riding 

Set Onto Roam

The road leads into the canyon
What came loose inhabited

My eye here past looking
Better sage invisible fence

What I knew or thought
Thirst is what is here

stopping starting over
Working itself new

Big full light out past
Space flattening

Terrain

They said her fur was rough
I thought it had improved
there were others with finer
silkiness shine luster look
clean with oil is how it felt

otter-slick sidewinder-new
territory sticking underneath
hay rolled leaving flat weather
we read about how Wovoka
Revealed what he was holding

Detour

The detour took longer than I thought
distracting myself in order to breathe
visions of everything dry and crinkly
rustling and catching it went under
day not ending moon quite translucent

Caught myself there so many hurdles
illusions gimmicks torn under little
leaves symbolizing leaving
sun meaning sunny day bright
ribbons turquoise red yellow

False Beach

At Celilo
lozenges litter
trees rimmed by teeth
What mistakes
lawn an oven

Baked-on trees
bronze sky
miniature pioneers
metallic
rude pointing

Wreath

Still Christmas

in La Grande


shadows
don't move
except
                    whistle rolling

Past town

out

to

Island City

The Painter

So thirsty
animals peel off
burning hills

following the river smell
Is that a bear or just willows
Is my mind clear or just my head

Legs warm the moon half
looking in the silver part
its necessary backing

He Sat Like That

Twisting angles crossed pretzels
wristwatch belt shoes
kids ran around
in her hair
happiest circus.

She taught me how
a blouse from curtains
rickrack turquoise
pink brown eyelids
up and down my arms.

Sammy got a candy bar
nails skittering
coffee
one cookie
canned goods
cupboard full.

She could repair
holes in suits
matching fibers
where ash burned
through nights
alone working.

We sang railroad
split the rum
getting ice cubes
coke gone too soon
there was so much
she didn't say.

Dogs In The Cave

No shoes her feet were black
standing in the cool
a child gave her
a piece of grass
to play with.

The drama there
familiar
so many in the nest.

I guess the trash
showed they had eaten.

The trash.

With Water From The River

With water from the river
the land turns lush finding birds
chimes turning clanking legs tucking
under the path different shortcut
I remember the school in Schurz
radiation up the road here
wheat rolling instead of alfalfa
but just as thick the horizon already
gave birth the canyon its elephant

She Said She Hated Deer

This might be a bad sign.
It is only the beginning
feels like the end.
Stepping carefully grasses short
for hiding.  The glass ceiling
tall light with extra air.
How could it be
they know my sister
my 8th grade friend
better?

At least the heart gets checked.
All systems go.
I said I hated wine but that's not true
I just don't let her drink me anymore.

The Size Of It

One arrived from down river
a cloud quite thick with meaning
and I mean dumping sharp punishment
in that canyon even boulders
could not help the hail

One had been there longer than suspected
taking up a lot of space inside
so it became the space just like
in outer space where it is jelly
it did not fall away on its own
I stepped on her hand under the tarp
I almost killed her is that why I wish
to go back to find out what happened

Later another river almost broke up
our parents half drowning everyone
Now she is not speaking again
the topic glass window panes
and how that is the most interesting
Maybe this is true non-fiction

Shaniko

Whoever said we could not find them
tickling the grasses eyes empty
out without clothes fasteners
protruding apartments
sage is the garden now
and then magpies
brushing everything flat
swirly landings the whole
picture including headaches
nostrils too dry to stand
wind a reminder of more

Shaniko has already been
yucking it up ice cream parlor
ladies and gents the town too big

Things made new but empty now
tourists no longer entertaining
ideas of wagons hitching them up

At The

My twins are always two
I see them reflections in the creek

Tame my twins stolen
Out the window spotting me

Seeing them spicy the way the world
We were just getting to know

Their house burned down
Fire burned down their house

Walking she points out the soft
Waiting not waiting they would be

This Time Stuff Did Not Matter

Holiday pressure
on the image
in a certain room
electric
didn't this send me
somewhere else
entirely
the Depot
quite restored
tracks parallel

Leggo My Ego

Where they pull apart a piece
fading beauty quite awake I
do my own slicing not mentioning
where I've made sharp work of it
kissing strange stones faces showing
changes in the light the clouds


All I know turning up 8th
this place still has its Buicks
right in town behind glass
sidewalks undergoing repair
expose the boardwalk underneath
walking past a thousand times
parallel and not so parallel

Fossil

Shaniko is where you leave your heart
dropping down into two levels
some of it familiar most of it not
backwards paying attention

animals rocks kids looking up
a large ungulate burnt stumps
bear black even a place called
Bear Hollow where who knows what
goes on meeting my eye expecting

Wasco

Night kept out by heavy cloth
so much there understanding
another matter telegrams
small binges to back then
birds chase the raccoon now
loping away from the juniper
healthy silvery into another tree

We All Have

Grass dancers tamp it down
crow hopping white pyramids
an eagle watches a small spring
two songs that we dance to
women were only recently allowed
inside the circle instead of the outer edge
floor lining up shortest we had fun
round dance the friendship dance why
did I have to get the Pendelton design
named Jerome was that the cruelty of Maupin
tonight between juniper and feathers

Bluebirds

The path is even cool well-worn
travelers rest there drink water
thinking of water lovers
trees answer any question
birds with worms flying around
careful with the fat pieces
meat filled with earth
listening on the garden posts
waiting until it's all clear
even longer disappearing

Feeling It

It's a machine.  (You are) in it
not in it.  It's beyond
a suitcase a bag baggage. 
Beyond myself Earth's pores teaming
with items precious all of them junk.

Old language to describe new
things the now finding an animal
underneath the fur of the sun
moon a blanketing
wave not the term exactly.

Left To Chance

There are other feelings undefined
early morning thunderstorm
Heat sub tropic plus
Beatdom falling away
This year the currants weak
too much rain spider nests
cedars the next town friendly

They decided
love would be held
in small baskets
spilling over the swale
lush yet static
blue heron cut outs
routine just one solitary
plural adding together

Trivial Pursuit

Chasing memory down hallways
paths through rain around lilies
past the likes of my own breath
breathing the silence of self
the hundred ways to keep alive
one look at the karma repair kit
thinking about the trinkets in there

Tall Grass Lemniscate

Something loose on that truck.
Even going over to the river.
Up the hill out to Nonpareil.
Everything happening outside.
Painted eggs an angel playing
beer stein weinkrug glass daffodils
cradle board cuckoo clock baby Vivian
framed in pine needles orchids the white
lamp wooden plates being here not here.

Wild Roses Wild Peas

Thirsty pink we saw hardscrabble inclines
he said it was Egyptian but really you'll see
next is the drive trees waiting rivers draining
The mystery of it One was art then there was
the other part meeting nowhere in the middle

Dogwood

What I said was what they did

they told me there is another way

I did not believe them too long

it was a rock after all now dark

Turtle Island lots of lights squirrels

at Super 8 terrible lime allergy

reported on Fox welcome to

This Will Be Normal

This is the next the best and the rest slipping
step to following dream time dreaming this
which has already happened chasing echo
round rainbow growling keep up with them
because there's more ahead Douglas County
Linn County all ears all tambourines.

Moon In Two

Split second logos

Through

To have things start matching up too much
that's where thoughts "make as much sense
as rock lyrics" where waterfalls and their
rainbows  invade dreams drops slowing
pour over the edge didn't that one just
flow through mossy places just upstream
where there were supposed to be messages
instead just echoes rich emptying overhangs
slabs directing the sun towards the trail
away from the trail others copied without
giving credit where credit was due

Walking Away

This layer of the holograph had never appeared
so clearly before where to begin maybe
there was something to the story
walking for days in wooden shoes
across burnt grasses same names
fever up and down spine long
forgotten plague ache remembering
head fever a mild word in the new place
west seeking it seeming friendly enough

It So Happens

State that can be found most places but yes
going there really would take focused effort
hopefully it would be more than party talk
saying yes been there right where it all began
way back went way way back even got itself
translated through the states not quite unchanged
dancing singing colors tears partnering up
checkered eagles conspicuous how absent of bears
So that's why we had to go to Hiawatha to snoop
visiting old couples living together in one room
strange stone statues just hours dead ideas eastern
seeking what is already there all along the way

Before Today

Rain moving thinking loss
getting lost what to take
desire for the warm pond
goes without saying absent
found some high octane poetry
milky turquoise sun unwinding
Yes the greats were also clerks
fitting fingers around clips stacks
corners typos and postage sealing
envelopes closing boxes vacuuming
wiping hauling closing the front door
then mailing Jay his two brass keys

Time Bureaucratic

Consequences of the now
time races runs to find it
turning over stones
they are heavy crumbling
there the grasses writing
fuck it all wanting to

Renee

It does not matter now
my white jeans the ditch
bullheads horny toads
Donald Wayne Rudy Carl
our hatred of the teachers

I left for the other world
my face not fitting there either
goodbye to our bikes horses to tame
basketball Walker River Reservoir
finding sage black alfalfa
cottonwood oasis and caves

Silence Says

What is it silence says

alive 

even when 

smothered 

slick.

Quietness

lack of sound shushing

a noisy movie-goer

nothing is heard

empty 

opposite of 

a noisy racket.

Glug glug

in the new

urban dictionary.

Increase

Condense it into a line
that way it will be clearly
seen how this outcome
is happening carve away
what you want to keep
mistakes are okay know
there's the other side
it has to match mark it
so you know which way
is up that way things won't
turn out upside down

Goodbye Cruel Island

The Kiss of the Fire Ant
all the Water in the Sea
the Mood Dangerous
failures too many to count
(12) William Burroughs.

Layer

It didn't stay within the confines of the park
the fence the road the trees the ground.
They wanted to stick their feet into it

just a little bit.  The lava was a tough animal

sensing danger in the name

of more information
continuing to tuck into itself
strangely opening
rumbling another day began
ended torn-up breathing piles of burning tires
and then not torn up--detouring the main road--
anything was the present time.  No matter
how pitiful no matter how active.

Thinking Makes It So

Thought about it and thought about it
checking out various meanings
some parts will be pulled away by the process
other parts will be left Sunflower beautiful
details slipping away the path tall grass
so what if there's the immediate shove
isn't something always on the horizon?

Catnip For A Brilliant World

1. another week. What was

It didn't take long to realize it was too much even for


• described as chaotic really wasn't. Time distortion he called it. Plus, I should buy one of those special pens that check for counterfeit.  At Gadgetcopy it completely slipped
•  
• my mind even
•  
• though I had thought about it
•  
• the whole way over.  
•  
• There will be nothing to take away
•  
• only to disintegrate.
• 
  
• 
  

Words Wept Not Spoken

When she remembers she remembers this way:

lack of understanding overwhelming past present
future tense in all forms of he she we they I you

little boat of electric tears
held so tightly so long afloat
food water shelter we others

Calibri Lurking Light

Nothing nowhere endless
onyx sweating Emperor
Empress ding dong
tracings left by Times
New Roman Courier

Calibri hummingbird
poems archiving
heart's linoleum cuts
that's the plan spilling

Fire Eaters

Under the same uncaring sky
clouds build eating shade
stripes feathery beneath palms
heat dropping huddling hoarding
last moments of dead beauty
We continue to elbow aside

untamed chewing sipping hell
while in heaven symptom-free