Daisy: A Texas Heeler

Daisy is a heeler,

Who lives on our farm,

She patrols the boundaries,

So that nothing comes to harm.

She chases the little birdies,

That hop around the yard,

And all the wild rabbits,

Find she makes their lives so hard.

Now and then she goes in swimming,

In the creek down in the field,

And herds the water striders,

If they are smart they’ll yield. 

She swims circles round them and nips them,

Her own aquatic stock,

Keeps them bunched in the pools,

So they can’t hide in the rocks. 

When water work leaves her weary,

She runs up the bank,

Trailing water everywhere,

Her hair all wet and lank.

She hasn’t time to fret appearances,

She must go check the mules,

Without her to guide them,

Who would tend the long-eared fools?

She circles them and nips them,

Making sure they know she’s there,

Perhaps wondering if they know their luck,

That they are in her care.

She has to then go check the cattle,

Cows, calves, bull and steers,

To let them know she’s on patrol,

And to assuage their fears.

Then to the house in the evening,

And after the late meal,

She finds it’s time for a nap,

Some quiet time to steal.

Nestled in my lap,

Where she’s slept since she was a pup,

Never mind that she’s too large,

Now that she’s all grown up. 

She heaves a sigh and grumbles,

As she drifts of in a fog,

Such a busy life she leads,

Our little speckled dog. 

at the vet clinic
on a sun-drenched Sunday morn
no more to say here

every morning my phone reminds me of
so many places i’ve been people i’ve run off
or lost and it is irritating the living shit out of me

all my life i’ve prided myself for staying at
the surface of things ignoring and getting over
the past perfectly content to fuck around and find out

and now the end is near and so i face …
never mind it’s not me doing it it’s my phone
i’ve looked for the setting to turn it off and i can’t find it

no android reprogram no apple re-bite
i’m watching these damn youtube videos about
companion robots and just waiting for prices to come down

Enough I say of dying
Enough I say of death
Too many names for counting
Too many times bereft  

Enough I say of grieving
Enough I say of loss
Too many faces fading
Too many memories tossed  

Enough I say of missing
Enough I say of  tears
Too many deaths are coming
Too many ends are near

I trace the line of the shore
with my bare tiptoes.

The river is cold.

Beneath my feet
are pointy rocks.

I pay no mind.

I look up
to see her in all of her glory.

As fragments of rainbows
shimmer across her body,

the lush green trees
swallow the land across from me.

What a sight to see.

I hear a light tingling of bells
in the breeze,

and my beautiful eyes behold
river spirits dancing before me,

drenched in gold.

Honeysuckle brushes my nose.

I dip my hands
into the cold green abyss.

Then I go.

take pause and stop
to smell the roses.
orchids, verbena,
sweet jasmine if the season’s right

she lingers in your heart’s desire
temptress, lover,
safe harbour draped in silken sheets

Flattered, you preen, your seeds strewn,
you dance with abandon, forgetting the tune.
To be a flower, a profound task.
To live forever the undoable ask.

Once accepted, your only role
is paying the Piper his agreed upon toll.
Shoots rise in the midnight moon
each bud opening, as you are pruned.

In life’s short glory did you idle,
a season of delight, yet ecocidal.

Boxed or booked, after being
social outside the dead
make better companions.

Civilization, morality, justice—
the skim of curdled milk
on the morning cup of poison.

Religion, a pinata tied to a tree
gets beaten by supplicants
waiting for fabulous prizes.

A beagle, combat crawling
under the covers, tail
a mind of its own,
makes magic.

kept in a wheelchair safe from falling
ground-up food, less chance of choking  

You are too educated they say, switch
your station from NPR to Christian radio  

I show up with biscotti and some poetry to read
they shake their heads, no idea who you are