(in Southern Indiana 
with Robert Bly,  circa 1974.
I a graduate guest of Brescia College)

action squeezed
between subject and object
with less less less space
to move any argument
much less one’s heart,
he kicks butts
of people places things
trees are horses
stomping through the night
he throws languages around
like a mullah’s rug
rubs wood for heat
seizes the throne
of common sentence
becomes
an indigenous Norwegian 
clansman with antlers 
and the whole business
of bells and other rackets,
what he means is heartily prone
to the fuzz of swirl & twirl
& the squealing spin
of his iron Ferris wheel
built out of thin 
air
      with whole paragraphs
attached to the rim
whose grand gondolas
and loud rollers defy
gravity,
and then begins
his obscene view of looking
up skirts of long legged clouds

he sends boys to the woods
to slap mosquitoes and wrestle
with skinny words,
the girls (even nuns) he keeps
in the garden
his sense makes no sense
and when aliens land
all the world’s a mess
less less less obvious
as the gentle knight dissolves
and his protestant substance
gives this catholic school 
its lesson

The unknown rests in front of me
shrouded in smoke and fog
and I wonder
aloud if there’s anyone
beside me. No one answers
except the hollow echoing
of a too high voice. 
If I reach out my hand,
will I find a wall, or
will I find vastness,
endless possibilities of ways
the air may travel, molecules
zigzagging about, bumping
into each other, into solids, 
into themselves? I do not know
if I should keep going
or remain still until the fog
dissipates. And when will
that be? When eternity stretches
before me and there is no behind?
When the ground is so saturated
that the bones float to the surface
and the sky has run out
of rain? I cannot say. I cannot see.
So I will feel my way through
the mist and the fog and the
oppressiveness of air. And when
hope raises its head in my chest,
I will stand at the precipice
of squashing it and allowing it
to breathe and fester, and then,
and only then will I know
the difference.  

Thief of despair.
Giver of grins.
Protector of promises.
Keeper of secrets.

________________________________________________

Jumper of ships.
Deliverer of disdain.
Scepter of sadness.
Breaker of vows.

________________________________________________

What horrors come
with the pretty masks you wear?

after Jay McCoy

a couple of sparrows
they were

bright and beady
of eye

sharp and chippy and blunt
of beak

pick a little, talk a little
cheap, cheap, cheap

never let it go

A youth enthusiastically sets out on his journey.
He is the seeker
the soul
the hero with a thousand faces
the spirit in search of experience.  

Over his shoulder, a staff—
a wand to protect and guide along the way
and a bag—
the things we carry
that do not belong to us.  

He wears a bright tunic—
the garment of the soul
made of earthly experience
On his head, a laurel wreath—
a symbol of the victory
of a pure spirit
over the adversity of the world.  

Above him, the sun is white
the pure point
from which all energy emanates
Behind him, the sharp peaks
of the mountain of initiation
And by his side, a little white dog
leaping joyously—
his companion, his faith.  

Like the Fool
who has not yet experienced the world
and learned his life’s lessons
we are all
always and already free
and our spirits
are always and already pure.

God, i missed eating peanut butter for lunch

i’ve cored and cut apples into eighths for more kids than

can count or be counted

coworker commented on my efficiency once

                              it’s strange the things you remember

                              but to be Witnessed is like a folktale

                              repeated and braided in your brain

                                        Let Me Show You Them

                              is what brother and sil call it

in childhood we called them

               Apple Boats

and there was

               Macaroni in the Neighborhood

for some reason

               Stuff on a Plate

is a new year’s classic with cheese and meats and crackers sure

but shrimp cocktail or whatever dad has in his many freezers too

                              in Mongolia

                              there was so little fresh fruit

                              just eight gallons of milk filling up the minifridge

                              and when i bought three apples

                              there was a worm in one of them

you can cut it into ninths through sixteenths if it’s too big

he does his makeup
in the corner
rose blush a facade
of the flush
from the night before
after our love-making

the light coming through
from the small window
overlooking the alley
breaks off the mirror
& beams across his foot
i want to kiss

i can’t kiss him now
lips rouged
put together
unlike me
scratched knees
& wrinkled shirt

i wonder how long this time will last
until he’s gone

A group of friends we are,
our hearts entwined
living and sharing our lives

Encouragement, scolding,
and lots of laughter as
we interact every day

We share heartbreak
success, jokes and
chunks of our hearts

I think we all survive each
others trials, because
together we are stronger

Friend is not really a strong
enough word, sisters works better
because we share love

Of each other and of
the one who created
each and every one of us

The key jump starts a voice in the seat next to mine
Let’s go for a drive
A remembered song idles from broken speakers
Keeping time with a forgotten blinker
Until the journey ends
And I get out alone