Blue Sky Desert

Lou’s House on the Right

It is you I skip to with an unconscious beat

In my heart, my head, my being.

When I can longer skip, but trip over dead logs,

It is you I call out to with unconscious words

To save me from the sting of dried wood scraped

On my knees, my palms, and my cheeks.

It is me you find on the bench waiting for my name to be called,

Bent over, sick from all garbage or sitting straight, hands tucked

Under my thighs, smiling at how a bird soars, no movement of wings.

I watch it land next to me and cock its head about in the same silent

Rhythm I heard when I skipped to your house missing all the cracks.

Born On a Fault Line

What a failure am I to see the faults,

all that falls through the cracks and

what is still standing so proud and

moving, moving with harmonic tones

from a harmonica in a movie seems

so far out of reach across the gap from

where there once was a solid green field

meant to feed everyone including Me.


I look out across the line, imagine the leap.

There I am, moving in harmony, dancing

among daises, singing songs with birds

while the proud go on making movies

and my dogs are happiest in the car

riding with me, going places we’ve never been.

Happy tails wave good-bye to San Andreas. 


Someone asked me if I ever wrote a love poem.

I said if I ever wrote to you it was always a love poem.

Maybe they didn’t get how I wrote them; it wasn’t

Always with love. Sometimes it hit me over the head,

And I wrote how much hurt it caused. Now they know. 

Devil eS Muse

I am the devil

No, I am the devil and you are my muse.

And he danced to a beathless beat.

I am dead.

No, I am death and you are my breath.

And she danced to invisible heat.

I am life.

No, I am love and you are my heart

I am an angel

No, I am dressed in black

And they danced in a moonless street

Black Coffee Guts



It was the coffee that made my stomach turn reflecting my life upside down.

I ask myself how did I get here and I can see their evil grins smiling at the sex

With their hands over the cardboard backdrop meant to be the stage moving

Puppets around, tangling the strings making the marionette dance and sing

Like they wanted her to because their long arms could reach that far out

Past the audience, out the door, out in the street to the corner drugstore

Where she would ask for something to make the pain go away and they’d

Smile their sinister grins again, throw out the candy in open fields of blue

Oceans and dogs frolicking, saying go get it, watch her bend over searching.

Little Dog on a Full Moon

With his uncombed wiry hair and little tongue lopped to the side

he jumped and he jumped and he ran and he ran like a crazy

hellion on wheels going to race the wind on a calm full moon night.

Hey there little guy, I said, as he flew on by me wondering how tasty

my apple pie would be, waiting for me, when we got home sweet home.

But my little dog didn’t wait for me as he ran and ran and jumped into the night.

I lost him I thought.  This is it. He finally caught up with that invisible wind.

I looked all around, at the park, at the playground, behind the alley and then

I looked up, ready to ask a favor from his guardian angel when what did my eyes

See?  But my little wiry, happy tongued dog up dancing on the top of a round full moon.

He looked down at me, skipping and hopping and wagging his tail, gave a few yaps at me.

I heard him clear as that full moon night say, Come on up, silly person, it’s happy up here.

I thought how could this be? I looked down at the ground where I just buried him full of tears.

I said back to him, It’s okay little guy. You keep dancing. I’ll catch you at the next full moon. 

In the New Red Dawn

I want to know what it’s like to taste the fourth world taste,

The middle of two, the divided line of what is You, yes

it means You, the You who wonders the Being of Me.

I want to know You who wonders all about Me.

I want to know what it’s like to taste the line

between your halves, to lick what is inside of you.

Yes, I said it, and You heard me right. No need to

repeat it late into the night.  I will do you like

no other before the sun rises, make you clean

and repent all that you’ve believed what can’t be true

Say No. Say No Tomorrow when the sun leaks

its silky truth on all that is shining fully spent.


Getting to the World Race on Time

Spirits soar through the air, invisibly claiming unrivaled power of light

spread a billion miles into space to kiss stars, all of them in the seconds

the pallbearers reach the dead’s destination and a baby’s head for air.

They comfort me, wrap around me like a warm blanket, usher me through

the revolving doors flapping, flapping always flapping. Hear it. Take a step in.

Move around my pied-off section, around this little piece of earth, grounded,

pushing against the clear heavy glass. Take a look around, round and round.

Step off, stand still, listen to them soar, listen to their silent grace filling space.

Jet engines line up for take-off ready to race against timeless wings; they will not win.

Mother at Midnight (Day 8. NaPoWriMo)

She’s full of maggots, not worth eating,*

Spinning round on the spindle

Which way is north?

Is she perfectly round?


Yes, she is. Beautiful. Full and complete,

Keeps giving and taking around the sun.


She is as beautiful as the sun so bright.

And when the maggots reach her head

She’ll show you how the moon rises

Through the trees and over mountains.


Stand still and watch birds fly.

Sit next to the vines, watch her grow.


The maggots made whales deaf.

They died singing her song.

The wind echoes it now and then.

Did you hear it?

Was it as beautiful as She?


*lifted from the movie version of The Hobbit

Day 7. The Tongue Pendulum

Swings one way then the other

giving sound to thoughts of what

is in the world, so wrong, so right.


What I believe, what I want is

the whole.

Understanding, compassion, respect

for what is not human

yet I only end up

understanding the other side;

Humanity at its worst. 


So I send them my love,

my understanding

my compassion

that someday they too will feel

the same things I do when the axes

fall on innocent 

animal hearts, 

on life-giving plants, 

on oceans that keep giving. 


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