the road is laid out before me

flat desolate cold

a lone painted horse in a field

doesn’t seem to be lonely

the glinting sun parallels me on the railway

the faster I go, the faster it speeds up

in a race to the finish line

the heifer cows...actually running, galloping

the cold air making swift and quick foggy breath

at each cow’s nostril

I look ahead and see an old beat up truck at the gate

food is worth the exercise

the fancy radio provides no entertainment

despite it’s 300 channels

I briefly consider a haggard hitchhiker

and wonder what sort of doom would befall me

for actually picking one up

I’ve seen too many Stephen King movies

and I’ve read too many Dean Koontz books

450 miles of nothing

family on one end

and me on the other

as far apart as I can make it

This is a transcript of a recording my great-grandfather, Papa Joe, made for those of us too young to visit him on the upper hospital floors in November 1978. He died 2 months later...

Hello Rebekah and Timothy and James and Susan and everybody

How are ya?

Don’t bother about me I’m gonna be alright

They treat me real good in the hospital

We have a good hospital

And we have a God we can depend on

And if things don’t seem right to us

They will be to God

Because that’s the way he wants them

So let’s don’t bother about anything

I’ve had a good life

And I love you all a whole bunch

So you see how it is

I just want you to love me

Whether I’m here or whether I’m not

But I really, really hope to be here

And I’ll see you one of these days...

Be real good...

And think of me sometime...

And I love you...

Bye

The whir of a motorcycle

At 10 p.m. makes you think…
Wow! That would be Freedom!

But

He’s probably just now going home
After a blue collar 10 hour shift
To Tombstone frozen pizza
And re-runs of some CSI or another

Not to mention

The 3 young children he can barely support
Being watched by his mother
Who now lives with him there
Since his wife left him High and Dry
For another man- who could afford her addiction

Yet Still

He has the motorcycle
And he has the whir
That is his Freedom

Star

I am TALL, lean, and (once ) very fast
I came from an ad in the newspaper
And I was almost named Sunset
It’s bad enough that she calls me Starbaby

I love to sleep wherever she is hanging out
Living room, bedroom, bathroom, kitchen
It matters not to me—just stay close and keep watch

I love to play with my cat
(don’t worry—she’s a beanie baby)
I love to go on walks and play tennis ball…

Except I can’t do those things anymore…
My hips are full of pain
So I sit and rest and sleep

But—I get lots and lots of treats
And I like to bark bark bark
Bark at the coffee grinder
Bark at the door bell
Bark at the TV

I am TALL and lean
I am watcher
I am Star

The cartoon sky gazes heavily on the reflective surface
Delicate pieces of cotton clouds provide extra texture to the glass mirror
Rushes and trees bank beyond and add some much needed symmetry in my life

A swimming snake has the water all to himself

The mighty elm that once was in everyone’s favor
Now bows it’s branch low wishing it were a weeping willow
To express it’s sadness over losing the glory days

But the branch has found a new love amidst the dying one
It reaches a little more each year for the limb growing so curiously in the river
It’s amazing how much they have in common

Sunrise and 2 hours of drunken sleep
Just cancel
Sickness – movement slow

The Pink Jeep arrives, only it’s a Suburban
Scott knows everything from the story of Vegas

to the plight of an endangered turtle
A history lesson and a snow covered mountain

The trailer park trash
in all their tattooed, cigarette smoking glory

stay quiet in the backseat
I realize once again that pink is not my color

We are here
The unforgiving Sun
kissing Nevada like it’s never been kissed
The vastness brings a tear to my eye
No words to express the measure
Thoughts of Papa Joe long ago in this desolate place
Bring a lump to my cotton throat

No quick movements, please
Cantilevered towers, bowing before Arizona
You sicken me - don’t look
Metropolistic statues were unexpected, but welcome
who knew I would find you here
Oh, to have a cloudy day to look at the stars
I’m so sorry Papa Joe

exploration unbearable

The Mountain

Lying so frail, so exhausted in a heap
And all alone, a soul of steel

There was a once upon a time
Wading through the water up to my hips
The warmth of your blue Thunderbird
Creedence Clearwater revives us

A smile, a glow
The scent of Oil of Olay wafting through the house
Was it a house? It was a cracker box.
It was home. You loved me there.

Afternoons were lazy
A short nap for you

Taught me patience
For the good times ahead

You are sweet and tangy
Everything I want to be.

The Mountain

We would wake up early
She would let me drive her
Maroon Crown Victoria LTD
Even though I was only 12

The fancy car had automatic seat controls
I would move it all the way up
And all the way forward
After all, I was only 12

The Skaggs Alpha Beta was 6 blocks away
I would make complete stops at every sign
She would give me a twenty
And I would leave the car running

I selected a 2 liter Pepsi and a dozen doughnuts

We sat at the kitchen table
(Bright white with silver metallic sparkles)
And enjoyed our sugary breakfast
She never mentioned she was diabetic

Dig, Dig, Dig
The sun is hot – it warms my shoulders
The gloves are tight – they protect me
The shovel is sharp – but still not enough
Blackland prairie – dirt becomes clay

The hole
is slowly
formed
wider
deeper
wider
deeper
Until it is done
The lemon water tastes so good

Wait, Wait, Wait
For the sun to go down
The twilight has to witness the burial
Putting in is much quicker
Than digging out

Water, Water, Water
And there it is
And there it rests
And there it lives

Exhaustion is the last thing on her mind
Headaches and hailstorms swirling there require her full attention
Reprimand from a higher up is not easily forgotten
But anger will push her forward one step at a time

Frustration continues to build in all corners
Yet she does nothing about it every day
There are not enough hours from sunset to sunset
To get things done and be as lazy as she wants to be

Anticipation is always there
Wondering where all these decisions will take her
If only she could understand why she constantly gives in
Maybe things would improve

No one knew exactly what they were for
Or who made them
But there they were - all alone
In a pasture full of nothing
The sun setting brilliantly in the western sky
Always distracted everyone

Besides, the people zoom past and don't pay much attention
But, if they were to stop and listen closely
They might hear the murmur,
The sound of rushing water
Or is that a voice speaking softly?

Stuck now in my head - those voices
Living below the ground
Do I really want to know?

I was standing on a corner in San Francisco
And watched as the lion dipped, dived, and roared past me

I was standing in a parking lot in Seattle
And the rain began to pour as fish flew through the air

I was standing on a frontage road in Austin
And I heard the fireworks boom behind me

I was standing behind a Toys R Us
And you asked permission to kiss me and I said no

I was standing in a midnight street in London
And I was told the hotel might be on fire

I was standing in a convenient store in Biloxi
And there was water puddled all around my ankles

I was standing outside my house
And I wondered if there was an intruder inside

I am standing still
And I am still standing
And I am

She was mermaid, and he was a pirate
Least that’s how the story goes
They fell in love; it was love at first sight
After many travels and woes

He asked the question, and she said I do
And off to the chapel they ran
Then many years later, along came you
A big part of their little family plan

They had a small house, small enough for a mouse
And maybe a friend or two
They built up and out and far and wide
They painted it pink, not blue

This story goes on, as stories often do
This poem only a small legacy
To continue on forever and ever
The mermaid, the pirate, and little Paisley…

a mistake in a title

that leads to poem...

always take a minute

to look at your mistakes

before making them right
you never know
what you might find

A fist blog

Coming fast, swift

Stopping for nothing

Except a memory

From the House on Poverty Hill