Famous Painting

He wrote about the famous painting
just pronouncing its title seemed to be difficult
he said that with it swimming off his tongue
into the Mediterranean fragments.  Once

people with their lives and ideas and selves and others.

Listening to war's travel itinerary.  What have
we become

so something and so someone

so mature so future.  

Green Line

Stand there and you will catch it downtown
Union Station where number forty
going near where you want to go whole
life story stuttering desert thin old palms.

Back beyond marble halls and polished
women on tall pedestals you know the gaze
will this attract destiny molecules all rushing
where my focus landing long boulevard.

It is not bus without thinking of the forays
on another island.  Why did they vote it down?
Answering the past will only present further
inside love in fact the best will be along.

Seat Of Power

They don't speak but when
government can't be expected
all Your problems Douglas County
bust town once 30 mills operating
at the same time Oh yeah
Heaven Can Wait at the Grand
sewer fish in Ford's pond
end-to-end overkill conclusions
meeting with confirmed non-readers
Except the Bible and all the good it's doing.

Field Guide

Our hair could be left
outside somewhere for birds
for their nests like someone
in Oregon Field Guide did
in that one show where a small lock
was left at the foot of a tree
waiting to be noticed in the green
clearing where deer eat even though
the poets said they hated deer
how overused these days but still
there will be a lot to learn at the
conference if that could be of help.

Awake Before Birds

A poem should start out full of hope
and end wisely.

The room is dark but glass everywhere.
Look out to rain and green and grey shine.

My friends are sleeping.
Things are not like before.

I try not to hate my sisters.
How does this matter at all.

Flowers bursting out of the earth
from the limbs of trees.

There is nothing else to want.
Nothing else to need.  A book.

Ongoing Investigation

Well one thing was said and I thought
what the hell did I say just now
because all those records surrounding
the case at hand.

The used disguise didn't quite match
the phony signature.  Obscure
feelings peeking around the corner
but this was inside the house.
You get me now?

The cardboard box was mistakenly
assumed to be a main clue.  It
just jumped out
speaking to my sensibilities.

Tourist In Her Own Hometown

She went there to the past
Exactly as she remembered
Exactly as she thought

She thought about the past
Yet she was able to discern
A future not at all
Things she saw back there
Nickels and dimes looking
Seeing her but not thinking

Ms. Under Standing

She remembered her promises.  How she was supposed to keep them.
The others thought she made it all up.  She didn't lie.  They just
could not hear and when she repeated herself they stillheardotherthings
than what she originally meant.  Who cared then and what have you.
Time went on and she really did forget what exactly it was
what they didn't know.  Was she supposed to tell them now?  Of all
the most inconvenient

too bad now it was too late she thought in her spy place
the garden path ran right by and from the leaves she could see
it was nothing to stay there an entire day and then some.

Walking The Plank

They looked at nature so naturally.
Inside the umbrella were little sections.
Rain forgotten in the downpour.
How could it last would it?
She wore her question mark on her skin.
He made a necklace instead.  This now.

The ruins so mysterious so early. Circling.
They followed their instincts after watching.
One leg shorter than the other as is the way.

Detox Dementia

I've always wanted to live in a castle.
Now I settle for Eugene.  The rain
the trash I've become.  My broken
boots dragging me to the library.
Cars without their lights on.
The mean streets of Eugene.
Against the volcanic knob the river
snaking its way to Corvallis.  Where
in the hell am I under all these magnolias?
Trees are killing me.  Wait up puppets.

This Time

Don't mind the worry.  In fact
it's better than nothing.  Fact
thumbs so useful.  Just think
in a million years.  Fragments
cut it.  Maybe this will be about
Eugene but maybe not.  Easy
to forget ocean swimming.
This time there's lots of room.

Always Eugene

The air runs off the river.  All spaces
have given in to dreaming about slowness.
The shadow between here and the cedar
lengthening love for Eugene.  This is how
it always begins with me and Eugene.
When I begin observing the trees again.
Always Eugene running around.
Expecting every moment a change.

Local Sights

My sentences are incomplete.  What else
This early.  Eugene in another heyday.
Same daffoidils and hyacinths scratching
The air river willow even far from it.
At home in the library.  Others also
Resting their eyes.  That's why the carpet
All so quiet.  Not even phones ringing.
This way it is the day of the memorial
Every day cycle.  Heads bowed.  Then
I say no to the salmon dinner.  It is
Already too dark for driving but that
Is what we do leaving them behind.

Hallucination Takeover

The story should have been more about the landscape.

If I could criticize just for a moment I would say ugly chairs

yet I would have them in a minute in a second and recover 

the material

a fine swirl, a madcap idea, something exotic

as burlap

a velvety horsehair

recycled later as a shirt.

Once a hurricane has landed, there is really no going back 

to before and how before was different

everything

in place in that place.  Even the water does not taste

like water

extra potent

extra watered 

down. 

Busy Signaling

The sun swallowing whole drenching days.

Desperate for return.  Oak King.

Crimes still at hand, their detection.

Every last song at your feet at your roots.

Is it possible seeing where to cross the river?

A satisfaction in just reaching the other side.

Small footholds chase the dreaming.

Gorgeous Dream(er)

I was walking to and from my life.
The rain pitter patter all that space
Between the drops onion soup.
Thought it was another corner
To go around and instead went right through
Saw a different angle saw you as an angel
Talking me down from the edge
But I never knew I was quite on it
To begin with.  I'll tell you my dream.
It is of my house.  A house of trees
Fantastic leaves.  They could be needles.
Actually I would prefer pine or cedar.
Cozy.  Something branchy.  Moving.
I am lucky.  True as weather.  Say it.

Rain Crowd

Side A

In The Crowded Crowd
All Hand s On Deck
Space-out
Flashback Pogrom
We Need The Hippies

Side B

Sublime Telegram
Later
Mister Go Away Now
Too Rich To Know
Podium Blues

No Shame In That

See how they were waiting and waiting
for something to show up in the mail
a turn at the big wheel so to speak
out of their league mostly true
but it was fun while it lasted.

If this poem could be anything
it would be their spirit attempts
with feathers and time crossing
the ocean grabbing all light
mixing it a little and so forth.

At least they weren't endlessly
sitting in cars and doing just
about the same although leaving
the motor running is what trucks
do when busy with deliveries.

Dear My Life

This has been on my mind as recently
as last week in the days ahead and those
just past.  About that slice of sunlit
shadow just passing by.  Another
point being the clouds framed just so
moving to Springfield to where another
river meets up following along blind.

Dear Letter

Do you get any I mean do you
open some up now and then
rescuing their burnt edges from the fire
in the story of you quite plain with you
tossing them in so they can be demolished?

Do you tear to little pieces or just one long slash
gashing my hallucination of loud and quiet?

Is there a point or just the dull edge
careful not to focus too much or you
will surely cut your tongue
sealing the words inside.

Forest That Time Could Not Forget

If I could stroll through that forest
I would always know the correct time.
It would be late in the day in the middle
of my life.  I would be writing and thinking.
Thinking and writing.  I wouldn't have to look
around for someone with a watch or for a clock
or a heart by the station the town the bank.
Or do they really are they just pretending
with their ticking with their thumping?

Friend Connect

The friends connect over their instruments.
Singing of love and regret.  Their words
are simple because it was back then.  I know
now of the absent presence leading
taking turns to sing another's
song.  Only how alone sounding.

Dear Eugene Part Two

You will inherit
the acre of coins
(dandelions)
palace of icing
(garden shed).

Rose trees (no scent)

daffodils
lemon pepper.

Return to them
Rinse slowly
allowing for thaw.

Dear Eugene

I like your hair the way it falls
the way it springs when you walk
around the town your flannel
waving then passing by
across the bricks of the square.
I had a terrible vision of you
married to me to Tatiana
she didn't appreciate your swagger
back then and now I question
the relationship thus this letter
telling you of my feelings downtown
in the middle of Eugene's windy
rainy rose trees and azaleas.

Passageway

The tree is visible from the den
blossoms hanging onto branches
wild promises for now wild notions
at stake even ideas at stake  matching
words long grasses almost warm
almost lost the calendar says:

nature flows where rivers rush
waterfalls roar into the web of life

salmon, bears, hungrily the shore
waiting complex, constant
habitats continuing upstream
in the important flow.

Close To Spring

So fast he forgets how to fly
Among the ruins of last century.
So fast I would have missed him
Except for telltale signs.

Those flowers their birds and bears.
Our berries we shared even though
They were not exactly mine
Douglas county and all my being.
What time is it now so late so early.

What do I need to do in this life?
This is time grabbing pulling?

Lesson

I thought the future would be less difficult
Especially when it came to poetry
All the end-alls and be-alls
Up the sleeves of the supervisor
But what did I expect?  A free
Plains on which to roam
Hooves and claws digging in
To dreams I have not yet dreamed?
Yes, that's what I thought
What I wanted to learn about
To feel it--freedom--for me to
Admit, allow into my thoughts
Feelings anything but strict

She Said

unlike any and you
aren't the least bit
boring dearly broken-in

person of interest
she said this is heaven
the rest I'm guessing.

Beautiful Day

No two fish quite the same.
You see the upside
Down.
Magenta altostratus rumpling
Young thoughts
thinking.
The dream again.
More.  And counting.
Painting the cave
So fun with you.
In it?  As subject?
Great bear. Wishing you.