“They arrested Gus, but turned Harry loose,
though he was the mastermind.”
My senior partner laughs.
And you wonder why?
“They charged Gus with emotional terrorism.
Is that even a crime?”
It’s strategy. When you’re an old lawyer,
you’ll understand.
No I won’t, I’ll stay a boy
unsettled by the shadows of deception.
you discovered the watercolor
on “In Through the Out Door”
Built a camouflaged fort
in the woods behind the houses
Crossed town firmly cool
on a Schwinn banana seat
Buddies looking out
stole baseball card packs
The crew spilling over
the fence onto the playground
Tuning in these moments
so the judgement
can be tuned out when
school started in the fall.
we stop the car
startled by a turkey buzzard
tearing at a scavenged squirrel
a second bird hops off the road
a third roosts on a roof
An old Pawpaw tree stands below the slope
overlooking Owsley resivor.
Here it waits for morning sun to glisten
over eastern cedar roof shingles in cotton candy streams.
Watching for the kayakers to grace distant narrow knobs
with their zippered jackets, capped locks, and cushioned arches.
It’s golden leaves dancing to the waltz of steady marching feet,
elongated paddles, and accompanying life vests
unaware of those who were here before
but for the inscriptions carved along its gray trunk.
Here the tree stands solitary and firm
the grief and delightful journey of many show
on its uncommonly protruding tap roots
The scars of life; the hopeful dreams of years forgotten
All who pass the tree, even the lonely blue crane,
are subject to seasons arbitration
health may wain, but story linger here firm
embossed in the dark wrinkles of the tree’s ripened custard fruit
Unfolded blade declared young love a year before the road was paved
A name added to the long accounting written in awkward script
leaves twirl and welcome new declarations for all eternity to see
Maroon blossoms long to collect bits of wisdom
and burst open as moments are recorded
from those who can’t resist
None of us has resided here long enough to know of the tree’s origins Racoons, opossums, gray squirrels, and birds have all forgotten
its sleepy, drooping, pyramid shape hobbled to phase and season quietly balance our erratic joys, struggles, regrets, and sorrows
Alone at the edge of the sparcely graveled walkway it waits for companionship-
the wound of life, the portal of spirit, the awakening of moment
like me, it waits for when this time slows, no longer needing the steady achievement and accounting
for when wonder returns, the sun heats our chest, and thoughts shift once again towards ponder
here it waits for evening sun to shadow our insanity and all our restlessness
-for azure canvas to again be painted auburn and red and fall behind the western pinnacle.
God’s old Pawpaw tree stands below the slope overlooking Owsley resirvor where it waits for tomorrow.
When my daughter said
that she was terrible at soccer
but enjoyed the camp anyway
and couldn’t wait to go back,
I nearly jumped out of my chair
and boomed Yes with a fist pump,
but not wanting to risk the moment
by inserting myself in it, I simply
nodded and muttered
something benign, like that’s great,
and went back to my book
which was some self-help bible
I’d paid good money for
written by an esteemed guru
with an alphabet after his name
who’d spent a lifetime of study
to offer instruction I knew,
just ten pages in,
I’d never put into practice
while sitting on the floor
not ten feet away, playing with dolls,
was a child who’d discovered
the secret to happiness
in just three hours of chasing
a black and white ball.
Bare, blue-black mountains
Flat-topped hill in the center
Ladder rides turquoise heavens
We body surf big
waves wearing sunburnt shoulders.
In the distance, fins
break the surface. Dolphin friends,
jubilant, join in our fun.
I learned to hold snakes that first summer
on the mountain. Not with stagecraft
or raving tongue, but with concentrated focus
like a tightropewalker holding a heron egg.
I’d find them, fragile silver-edged shoestrings,
alive & nonvenmous & dozing inside a door
sweep or wiggling on a fallen branch, a curled
leaf. I spoke to them like fresh puppies.
Hello sweetheart. What’s up little
green? Staying out of the heat,
my lovely slither bit?
Baby green snakes everywhere! They danced
on my zucchini, spiraled at the foot of my claw
foot tub. Dined on banana slugs & chili-bean
colored earthworms. I said, hell yes & I surrendered.
Hello, Sugaree. Don’t be afraid.
I’ll walk around you. My sweetness,
if I step on you. I didn’t mean it.
Oh, tender lessons of my preparative
days. Yes, yes, I remember them fondly. I learned
the snake kingdom will not devour me. Virtuous
garter, I grew to adore your sweet-keeled scales.
