I've been holding "conflagration"
in my back pocket
for a good time to use it
for more months than I can count.
I've been holding
for a while and we've been
staring at the curb
to see if a little bit of something
goes pill bug rolling...
....is that what they're called?
nothing does.
I would love to tell you
there is a problem with you
parking my car ten spaces down,
but you know I'm lazy.
Conflagration is,
however, a wonderful flower
that is so many leaves and
a lot of hurt for meaning, but
I've been holding
in my back pocket and it's
burning a hole like a lot of things
that are want to burn holes in jeans so
I'm letting it go
like a lot of things
that are want to burn holes in
back pockets.
original works of parts
The Things We Spat On
I want someone to be
animal with me.
I know there was a day
when I said I wouldn't
date again, but I will
when I find
someone else, not easy,
who understands
that just inside is what it says.
animal with me.
I know there was a day
when I said I wouldn't
date again, but I will
when I find
someone else, not easy,
who understands
that just inside is what it says.
Leaving Home
Give them the advice gained over years.
Don't burn the house down
or at least make it look
like an electrical fire
and make sure
the way out
is still there
on the planogram.
Don't answer the door
unless they ring twice.
And stay away
from soft cheese.
It's good, but like potato chips
you'll never know when to quit
until it's too late.
Pets never know
and nothing is worse
than coming home to catastrophe.
Don't burn the house down
or at least make it look
like an electrical fire
and make sure
the way out
is still there
on the planogram.
Don't answer the door
unless they ring twice.
And stay away
from soft cheese.
It's good, but like potato chips
you'll never know when to quit
until it's too late.
Pets never know
and nothing is worse
than coming home to catastrophe.
The Sandbar Tree
The tree is looking at the glitter on the river.
The river is, thousand eyed, watching the tree.
The tennis ball goes, a skip, into the inch highs.
The dog is charging, fur whipping, after.
"Two feet deep, fifty yards out, at least."
The nods are a relief. Hands still knit
waiting to see
if Oatmeal brings the ball back to shore
or plants it and wags his tail by the tree.
The river is, thousand eyed, watching the tree.
The tennis ball goes, a skip, into the inch highs.
The dog is charging, fur whipping, after.
"Two feet deep, fifty yards out, at least."
The nods are a relief. Hands still knit
waiting to see
if Oatmeal brings the ball back to shore
or plants it and wags his tail by the tree.
Bad Ice
My knuckles hurt,
something bad. I'm
breaking up the girl,
no seriously. Ice packs
please. Or not.
Either way, I'm going to
see you fall
if it takes every last bone in this body.
Unique motivation, not hard to come by.
Scattergram plans, however,
are more difficult to make
than he ever knew,
and you wonder
why I keep dressing in black.
something bad. I'm
breaking up the girl,
no seriously. Ice packs
please. Or not.
Either way, I'm going to
see you fall
if it takes every last bone in this body.
Unique motivation, not hard to come by.
Scattergram plans, however,
are more difficult to make
than he ever knew,
and you wonder
why I keep dressing in black.
Baseball 5
after "DVNO"
Dig. First the right foot, then the left.
Pick your spot. Left field or right.
The center fielder is too fast.
Pick your pitch.
Single into a double; up,
if you dig. Hear it in your head
before you hear it in your hands
and your hands scream
dig! There is no time
to see the short stop's
leap, hard left. Flat footed.
Dig. Straight through first,
an arrow of light
spat from God's mouth.
First base coach
patting your left shoulder,
seventh inning dust in it's wake
is good enough for me.
Dig. First the right foot, then the left.
Pick your spot. Left field or right.
The center fielder is too fast.
Pick your pitch.
Single into a double; up,
if you dig. Hear it in your head
before you hear it in your hands
and your hands scream
dig! There is no time
to see the short stop's
leap, hard left. Flat footed.
Dig. Straight through first,
an arrow of light
spat from God's mouth.
First base coach
patting your left shoulder,
seventh inning dust in it's wake
is good enough for me.
Baseball 4
"Let me tell you a little something about love.
It's in the grain. When you turn the barrel
at high noon and the sand is in your nostrils and
the sun spits gold from the creases. It's there.
It's in the leather. When it traps the white
red stitched rocket powered rabbit
like a black and tan cage and
crushes it to death. It's there.
It's in the two seam. When you watch it
from wind up to release and
read the whirl and hear the breeze
crossing tree tops and
everything
slows down
everything busts apart and
you can see clear through to the heart of deep space. It's there."
It's in the grain. When you turn the barrel
at high noon and the sand is in your nostrils and
the sun spits gold from the creases. It's there.
It's in the leather. When it traps the white
red stitched rocket powered rabbit
like a black and tan cage and
crushes it to death. It's there.
It's in the two seam. When you watch it
from wind up to release and
read the whirl and hear the breeze
crossing tree tops and
everything
slows down
everything busts apart and
you can see clear through to the heart of deep space. It's there."
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