mirror

In Anatolia, around the land that is now Turkey
mirrors of polished obsidian were used 8,000 years ago.

catches the eye
flashes the light
better than a still pond
you can touch it

pick one up
carry it around
hold one up to look where you’ve been
hold it down to see the sky

put your face in one
it won’t talk back
won’t make a sound
what is left appears on the right

repeats colors
specularly reflective
practical magic
safe to do at home

weather whether

tv weather
showing maps and arrows
in red and blue is weather
you can see

radio weather
talks how it goes
though for tomorrow i doubt whether
anyone knows

i'm not afaid

i’m not afraid
to go outside the box
though rather get paid*
an cure chicken pox

filling our time now
an eye to the weather
i mean, holy cow,
we’re sticking together

i’ll rub your back
you sip my cheap wine
give me your heartache
and i’ll show you mine

the world is our sea
i am your oyster
they get us surrounded
white flags we’ll hoister

we drifts and we hops
as poets we'll cruise
dance till we drops
or the ship’s out of booze

*laid, strayed, made, spaid,weighed, swayed

for every minute you're talking
someone gives up 60 seconds
of peace and quiet

every year that passes

as i ladle up a smoking silvery spoon of time, though I don’t write or call
every year that duck squeak slip passes greased
finds me wonder why, and how you’re doing
in the golden yellow white days of summer, and another adobe fall

there is will be a small flower
something wild half hidden amid somewhere green
anywhere, i find one, anywhere at all, in between
no matter, it changes how I’m feeling that hour

taking up a petal, one will do
in vibrant color, texture, pattern, scent, then recall i will
from afar, time spent, and power from soft warm eyes
i think of you


every year that passes

as i ladle up a smoking silvery
spoon of time
though I don’t write or call
every year that duck squeak slip passes

finds me wonder
why, and how you’re doing
in blistering golden yellow white summer
leaning to another adobe fall

there is will be a small flower
something, wild half hidden
amid somewhere sometime green
anywhere i find one, anywhere at all,

in between, no matter
it changes
how I’m feeling
that hour

taking up a petal,
one will do
vibrant in color, texture,
pattern, scent

then recall i will, from afar,
time spent, and power
from soft warm eyes
i think of you

when old clothes were new

archeologists say
first clothes were made
seventy thousand years ago
more or less

before that? you tell me
what’d the cave man wear
sticks and clam shells?
maybe dinosaur skins

now in a cave in the Republic of Georgia
archaeologists have found colored fibers
that indicate the cave that may have been a factory
engaged in producing colorful textiles

found were strings and ropes
dyed fabric yellow, gray and turquoise
and one in pink, twisted together
carbon dated to thirty-four thousand years ago

scientists, not prone to speculation,
estimate that even then the fashion styles
changed every six months
and runway models were skinny



Scientists credited with the above discovery are
Ofer Bar Yosef, George Grant MacCurdy
and Janet G. B. MacCurdy of Prehistoric Archaeology
in the Faculty of Arts and Sciences at Harvard University
Bar Yosef and colleagues have been working in this cave since 1996.

writing

Digging into my archive, to save you the trouble, I brought this out from February 2008.

writing’s a bit
like digging a pit
you have to know
how deep to go

what to do
when that work is through?
You cover that lover
and start on another

curtis mayfield

around somewhere, maybe in a box
i have his business card
should be framed like a trophy now
here' the story

saw him perform
in those early times, 1963
when i was young and had the stuff
to get backstage, no problem

i was writing, wanted to see
if he would do a tune or two of mine
he was very friendly, kind
but wrote all his own

rolled em out, played em on
it’s all right, people get ready,
anyway, it was nice talking with Curtis
i really liked his style

animals revisited

the house of the rising sun was sung
by Appalachian artists Clarence "Tom" Ashley
and Gwen Foster in 1933
Tom learned it from his grandfather

Alan Lomax recorded his granddaughter singing it in ‘37
Roy Acuff in ’38, Woody Guthrie in ‘41
Led Belly in ‘48,
‘61 Bob Dylan did it

and according to punk archeology
in the British invasion of 64 the animals did it
many others have since recorded it
many other artists

2009 the dentist’s office
heard it on the radio, and kid next to me says
wow. the animals, oh, yeah!
animals lead singer Eric Burton 68 years old

lets dig up Mozart, blow some air in him
and see if he can open for the animals
just keep pumping air until
we get a beat out of him

i can turn it on

a low level technician i am, i know
rank me where I ought to be
somewhere low
because a lot really blows way by me
dust puffs on light wind to vapor

it’s the way I see it
what I expect
don’t you feel it?
examining from the back porch
under moving tree shadow and moon light

watching lightning bugs while
making thoughts, stringing them together
that could be necessary, stringing
to adjust things not quite right in my reasoning
we’ll see, I’m not sure, no regret

nine eleven answers

some day
historians
will follow
the money

bloodlines

fractional Cherokee blood coursing
she stood the ladder
painting on high
four and a half feet
beyond fear

off to the side with pride in my eye
envious of her heritage advantage
i watched from my perspective
as a humble full blood
Kielbasa

not the hanging judge

the frog tunes stopped
got real quiet hereabouts
don’t want to rush
to irrational judgment

but it looks like Herb stayed
and the nervous girlfriend
the one with the big eyes
might have split in the cover of darkness

this morning Herb is there
sitting on the same bar stool lily pad
like someone told him to freeze
he didn’t move a muscle (can't say hair,doesn’t have any)

we’ll move slow around, easy like
take our time, not make a sound
and count ‘em up later
to see who’s still in pond town

a frogs worth

summer now gone
September cool arrived
a few days of rain brought
warm damp last night

opened the window
imagined heard familiar
this morning M. saw him
called me to the pond

yes, after a summer scamper
to spend time with the girls
fall season approaches
(Errrb) Herb‘s home again



An hour later we see there are two large frogs in the pond. Maybe Herb brought his girlfriend with him.

days are like eggs

days are like eggs
some sunny side up
they’re hard, or scrambled
and, thank god,
always a few go
over easy

nature

of fish, birds, squirrels and frogs
there’s all kinds, good and bad,
each exhibiting different personalities
with examples for each
i told my brother what i had observed

he listened to my explanation
then told me i had too much free time.
in defense i maintain
it is better to observe nature
than watch television

old clock

old clock man was here
brought the metal guts
didn’t have to take
the heavy wooden case

just the grandmother works,
we talked of factories and parts
in America and Europe
how things have changed

of old cars, collectors, estate sales
and the time he opened
someone’s old dead clock
to find an equally dead

rattlesnake wound inside,
when he tried to get it out
it went back to nature
returned to dust

future talks

two more automakers are thinking
of launching an electric car
that was the promotional word – launching
it must be better if it sounds like a boat

and from here, a few days into the centu…
okay, actually a nine years into the
next thousand years
electric cars are the future

how’s that if you’re looking back?
and yes, I’ll take questions, go ahead
you there, the little one with the uh, . . .go ahead . . . -
why, no, I never knew the Earp brothers

was that kid kidding
or is the future that far ahead
that you forget
exactly where the past is?

apple cake

from a peg on the wall she took up
her worn canvas bag by the shoulder strap
said come on, we’re going to pick apples
near the corner across the street in the empty lot

there’s a neglected, half dragging to the ground,
poorly shaped, unremarkable old tree
not worth a glance,
and loaded with apples

we ate one to sample
half red, half yellow, a little strange to look at
but fresh off the tree
it was some old variety

forgotten, unattended and delicious apples
she filled the sack with a dozen or so
when she said she had enough,
we walked home

late that afternoon, after other tasks
by September sun streaming into the kitchen
she made an apple upside down
augmenting a vintage recipe found on the Internet

an hour after dinner
we each had a piece
of the best apple cake
i ever had tasted in my life




It would be too easy for M. and I to eat the whole thing, so I took the rest to my brother’s family. For us, there is always tomorrow.

look around

look around, you’ll see
old rock musicians
like politicians,
have taught us

if you stick around
long enough
you can always
make a comeback