Into the starless dreamscape of a stone cold November night I soar on the shadows of my own imagination, tacking smoothly to starboard in my bone-weary mind until, still tethered to my hospital bed, the snores of the next patient over reel me in and deposit me back on the starched linen sandbar of reality.
Saturday, November 18, 2023
Friday, November 17, 2023
Dan Garcia-Black
Watts Da?
There's never a point
You cross someone's line in the sand
And they kick you out of the joint
Maybe you played the wrong song
On the juke
Maybe your breath made somebody's girl
Puke
I'm told that to get along
You've got to go along
I prefer to go it alone
Cause I'm bad to the bone
B-b-b-bad Etc.
When I arrive at a dive
I expect
Bad
Bad booze
Bad women
Bad manners and
Bad sex
Not necessarily in that order
you know that bad is just dab in reverse
Like Brylcreem a little dab will do ya
That dab will do you bad
Greasy hair and sweat stained pillows
That's what being bad gets you
Maybe a bottle of cheap, bad liquor
Will be enough for tonight
And I'll forget going out
I'd be lyin' if I said that the was any
Point to anything out here anyway
It's all nada
I think Ad Nauseam is misspelled it should be
Add Nausea and shake well after drinking too much
Alicia Viguer-Espert
Power
It is the sea
what speaks to me
muffling sounds from seagulls’ wings,
and children’s voices running over sand.
Today the whiteness of a hovering cloud marks
the points where stars will appear
tonight.
The moon playing catch up with the sun
leans on that single cloud
hoping
under the shade of a pine tree that she’ll succeed
I smile.
Timid waves lick pulverized gold
for a while,
before picking up momentum
forcing the undercurrent
to churn seaweeds, hope, hostility and love inside the waters.
Calm returns,
a blanket of silver blinds me,
such power I’ve seen,
such beauty
we both carry,
if only we knew how to harness it.
The Writers
A roaring sea covers the fury
of strong winds rushing to shore,
the sideways steps of starfish
and also, the voices of children
paired with murmurs of danger,
but I’m not afraid.
On the line of foam whipping the beach
I stand,
my bare feet welcome the coolness,
while sandpipers draw stars
with their triangle digits
I write a message on the sand
with a stick,
hoping You’ll read it.
Gia Civerolo
Avalon
ants crawled across empty paper lines
She forgot what she wanted to say
There was too much and nothing at all
The dead leaves began to fall
from the red roses in a white vase
Remembering the sad song
that played over and
over again in her head
She was all alone
lying next to you in bed as
ants crawled across empty paper lines
the bones of a black crow were caught in my throat
The cracks on the porch cried lined tears
when they butchered the shade of the elm tree
along with every screaming face in its bark
Spitting small pieces across the lawn that
no longer wanted to be green
Excavating the twisted roots
wrapped around iron and copper
secret underworlds that
only orange cats know
Squirrels, tightrope walking on
the black telephone lines
condemning the chainsaw-wielding
weathered tan men
who were just glad to get paid
I could not look out the window pane
The Lorax would be so disappointed in me
much worse than mad
I couldn’t save a single tree, my tree
Nothing remained the same, grieving
wishing they had killed
the dilapidated house instead while
the bones of a black crow were caught in my throat
the other end of the line
Black telephone lines
trace the blue of the sky
Juxtaposing white cloud shapes
Still, they could not thread
your heart back to mine
Black telephone lines
dancing side by side
watching all the trains go by
Statue red rocks
Endless black highways
Whispering green grass shimmering
Neon billboards flashing the night
Fields and fields and fields of corn
Still, they refused to bring you back to me
Black telephone lines
Double Dutch ropes blurring
I could not jump into time
and space where you are
Still, you refuse nostalgia for me
Trapeze artist black crows
with jewel sequence eyes
Swinging gracefully
on black line stages
Soliloquies just for me
Dialoguing back and forth
Choired songs
Still, you were never mine
No matter how many times
I pleaded with your silence
on the other end of the line
Mark A Fisher
humanity
he drew a line in the sand where the high tide never reached
nevertheless wind and waves ignored his artificial limit
on the following day there was no sign he was ever there
arithmetic
abstracted points in a Cartesian plane
measuring all your unknown quantities
to infinitesimal precision
making meaning out of paradoxes
and poorly comprehended connections
bounded by some pretty convex region
representing all life’s petty constraints
deriving minimal needed meaning
to maximize utility functions
getting you from A to B with interest
Lori Wall-Holloway
I create an image with ink
but not by using lines
or geometric shapes
drawn on a canvas
Instead, I illustrate with
words to hopefully point
readers to the Creator
The author of their lives
Thursday, November 16, 2023
Jeffry Jensen
Pointing Across the Imaginary Lines of Extinction
A mother came to the library in search of a third-grade dinosaur book.
I told her that I should take long meander
off a short dizzy emptiness before the stroke of midnight.
This is not what she wanted to hear.
How is this related to her question about a dinosaur book?
Maybe,it was just a mood thing that I could not shake at that moment.
In the future, I will be more cautious about blurting out random brain farts.
For all of my tumbleweed sweetness, I should definitely know better.
I do not have the lungs of an expert diver, so I must stay on dry land.
I must be careful on how I moderate my breath in front of the public.
Last night, I could feel the soft touch of a pallbearer wishing
to carry me away as I slept in my borrowed bed of joy.
No good turn seems to go unpunished by the inhaled nature of bereavement.
The love of a good mother can keep a child or dinosaur book warm and fuzzy.
Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and my community cats
have been talking about doing a turkey potluck sort of thing with me
as security against all the undesirable critters
that are famous for crashing Holiday gatherings in the neighborhood.
At this time, I must turn my attention to the next desperate mother
standing in front of me at the library reference desk.
As I bite my bottom lip, I take a purposeful stroll toward
all the man-in-the-moon books that have been showing up on our shelves.
Fred Whitlock
Dreaming Of Peace.
All nations, religions,
and communities
break apart your attitudes,
borders, and constraints
Have the courage to sacrifice
start to believe in
mutual coexistence
Let there be no more borders,
roadblocks, or walls
between us
Start sewing those threads
no matter how thin
to form a fabric
of thought
Where cultures come together
and are recognized
in their beauty
and traditions
Dancing to the rhythm
of peace
As struggles, conflicts,
and turmoil dissolve
in well thought out
solutions
Moving forward
in dignity
Peace to be seen
as the most important step
towards human survival
No more bombs
or missiles
falling out of the sky
Let peace be back
in the atmosphere
and return it
to its natural state
no longer a collective
battlefield
No more hate
No more harden stands
No more power plays
Let harmony seep in
and refresh us
May we change our
vocabulary
and let peace be
the language we speak
May peace become a
solid object
that everyone
is delighted
to touch and hold
Gracefully sharing it
with each other
Oh, the dream
of peace
never to be
given up
Gary Justice
A loss for words
When you walk into the room
I find myself at a loss for words
I mean, I can engage in the common banter,
small talk, or throw down some game.
But that is not where I am coming from
Expression eludes me as I try to express the who and what
you are to me, which is deeper than my alphabet can speak.
Centuries of song and poems, Images of stone and canvas,
have only captured a moment of the passion of being in our moment.
Only heartbeats speak through silk of skin;
The expression of my six senses
speak volumes of you into the infinite silence of night,
as I admire the eloquence of your slumber.
Your eyes speak kinetic energy to me,
and dimple lines in your cheek dancing a song of recognition
We have always known.
How can you put words into this?
Woman, I have been waiting for you
Since I arose from the depths and took my first breath.
I feel the other half of we that has always been inside of me.
We dance like Gardens of Eden.
Ignite our tribal fires.
Rising embers
ascending beings of light
How can words express this?
How can words express….?
How …….?
You only need to look
into these eyes……
to hear me…….
Satan Spoke
Satan.... spoke....
In beautiful lies
and Beelzebub says
in these times of our lives
Oh Lucifer claimed
you can have it your way
And the Grim Reaper... laughed...
you have a nice day
The Angels did call
I could... not... deny
It was all too real
I just couldn’t... comply
Resisting the reality,
every fiber of my bein'
so blind in the darkness
For Light of Reason
and Craving to dance
with Dionysus' treasure
Desire... my... queen...?
for a moment of pleasure?
The Passion consumed
on this wild... wild... ride
an appetitive for corruption
that’s never ever... satisfied
Oh please?... dance... my puppets...
to seduce... the muse
For the tales I twist
and the dignity I lose
Genius... writes... volumes...
of the same damn lines
of Love for lust
and the criminal minds
Though the Angel... she spoke...
in her voice of forever
While the brilliant... young.. fools...
try so hard to be clever
Ain't no... angels or devils...
or lies to believe
nor the twisted riddles
in games... we deceive...
Of the spirit and the flesh
from the garden of Eden
Take a bite of ...my apple...
of seduction and treason
To thee and thou lies
in the never and ever
Complicit and willful
in our... illicit... endeavor
OH!... Satan tried... with his
Beautiful lies....
But the mirror reflects...
What's truly... in... your... eyes!
Subtexts
Hopeful horizons
write silver
lined clouds
against the azure.
Come tomorrow,
let us shine brightly!
To shed old beliefs
and habits like leaves.
So that new growth can begin.
And the heavens opened up
exhale of indigo and azure
above the primordial
dance of DNA
every cells portending
awakening consciousness
through the expanse of
all that ever was
and ever would be
PJ Swift
Just indulge me here. I am the customer.
You are? asked the Toad. That's news to me.
The Scorpion was already sitting on him.
Take me on your back across the river. I will be the muse and you will be the poet.
Already, I don't like this game.
It's not a game. Exclaimed the Scorpion. This is art!
The Toad was already swimming.
Art, he thought to himself. Silly, but something about it did catch his fancy.
The swimming was drudgery, but after a while, the Toad had made it past the toughest currents of the river, closer to the other side.
See there you go! The Scorpion was encouraging.
Thanks, but I am not feeling any inspiration. What's the point of all this anyway?
This is the point! Ha ha! Suddenly, the Scorpion stung the Toad.
The point of his stinger was all that was needed. His poison spread.
But why? The Toad asked with profound despondency. Now we will both die.
Anything for art, right! It's in my nature.
Jim Babwe
Forward
You see a tightrope
where I see a bridge
and this difference of perception
should not make us enemies,
but if you choose
fear over courage
do not be surprised
when I take no tentative steps
because enthusiasm
is better fuel than fear.
Maybe delusion blinds me
to potential consequences,
but I'm old enough to mean it
when I tell you I don't care
if you think I'm a fool.
You see a tightrope
where I see a bridge
and this difference of perception
provides me with opportunities
to meet the most interesting travelers
who may not know exactly
where they are going
or exactly how
they plan to get there,
but these are the people
who refuse to calculate asset ratios
and interest rates
while they buy gum.
Sit and giggle and point
between snide remarks
with other lazy spectators
when you see me
lose my balance and fall,
but watch me
rise to my feet,
make confident strides
to try again--
always forward.
Veronica Jauregui
I met you for the first time on a rainy night
I had fear cautiousness of conditions
I was conditioned before you
You freed me in every way
Plucked the bird out of the cage
The bird flies freer unlimited
Though we grow tired
Time tires us life tires us
Resilience comes surviving the night
If we make it to tomorrow
We will still fight for freedom
Freedom in every way
There are cages we build others built for us
Others set up to make others keep us down
Some of our own will be made to stop us
By their ego or mind games
see it clear
Freedom is free
There is no violence to be conquered
It just must end
The tears fall and keep falling
From the sky to our eyes
Guns running out of bullets
Money stopping its flow
We know how to end this
We know how it ends
Wednesday, November 15, 2023
Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal
My Mind is on Fire
My mind is on fire.
I hear and feel your warm
voice upon my ear.
Like a vision
for the insane you
appear in my dreams.
There is hope still in
those little deaths we call
sleep. A flame unfolds
burning inside. It
makes an outline around
my heart. This false hope
keeps me smiling in
my other life, where I
could have anything
that my heart desires.
Shih-Fang Wang
Starting Point
It is a point
That starts a line
Which can be extended
To infinity
It is a step
That begins a journey
On a road of unknown
Holding endless dreams
It is a moment
That connects with the next
To construct time
And goes on for eternity
It is a seed of greed
That corrupts the heart
Grows into a monster
Leading to unforgivable sin
It is a kind word
That begets good will
To dissolve hatred
Bringing long lasting peace
R A Ruadh
Shaping Life
To show a direction
she points her chin
toward where you should go
To show you a person
she points her chin
toward the person in question
To point your finger
is rude and disrespectful
it is what colonists do
He doesn’t like to stand in line
it’s not about waiting his turn
but a nightmare memory of childhood
He remembers residential school
square rooms and slicing whips
and how they cut your hair across
He follows the elders
dancing into the arbour
an honour not a line
We embroider and bead
traditional curving caressing designs
nature has no straight lines
We dance in a circle
weaving a basket of love
our lives are not lines
In our traditions
there are only three lines
and two points
A sacred pipe is straight
an arrow and a spear as well
only the weapons have points
Carl Stilwell AKA CaLokie
Psalm 150 & All That Jazz
Hallelujah!
Praise the everything to which I am nothing!
Praise the nothing to which I am everything!
Praise the universe beyond us!
Praise the universe within us!
Praise with Freddie Hubbard trumpet tour of Cantaloupe Island!
Praise with Purple Haze from Jimi Hendrix’s electrifying guitar!
Praise with Bob Dylan’s Mr. Tambourine Man!
Praise with a Shakira - Hips Don't Lie dance!
Praise with Newport Jazz Festival secular humanists
dancing to gospel beat of Mahalia Jackson!
Praise with Don Cornelius Soul Train line dancers introducing
on syndicated television show latest dance moves!
Praise with Eric Dolphy playing Jitterbug Waltz on flute!
Praise with loud crashing cymbals of a Elvin Jones drum proclamations!
Praise with Willie “life-of-the-party” Bobo on conga!
Let everything that has breath
sock-it-to-me, sock-it-to-me, sock-it-to-me!
Ode to the Period
Where the comma is hesitant,
you are resolute.
An apostrophe’s known for its omissions
and you for being thorough.
Abrupt the dash--
You get to the point.
Ellipses enigmatic…
You translucent are.
The semicolon initiates;
you consummate.
The following don’t stop: waves, greed and colons.
You do.
The exclamation point is excessive
but you are stable. Yes!
Does not the question bring uncertainty
and you closure?
As the old quotation marks, “When all is said
and done, you are there.”
I Remember Amalek*
O God of my Bible Belt fathers who through
the prophet Samuel ordered him to say unto Saul,
“The Lord sent me to anoint thee to be king over Israel.
Now therefore hearken thou unto the voice of the words
of the Lord.
Thus saith the Lord of hosts: ‘I remember what Amalek
did to Israel, how he lay in wait for him on the way
when he came up from Egypt.
Now go and smite Amalek and utterly destroy all
that they have, and spare them not; but slay
both man and woman, infant and suckling,
ox and sheep, camel and ass.’” **
ELOI, ELOI…?—***
What did these children and babies have to do
with what Amalek did to Israel a few centuries
before they were even born that you ordered
them to be wiped off the face of the earth?
I read both the Bible through twice before I was 15
and was deeply disturbed by what was surely a war crime
but the godly Bible professors at Bob Jones University,
the college I attended during the 50’s, shrugged off
the genocide described in 1st Samuel 15:1-3 while
insisting the scriptural point was that King Saul
had to be punished for failing to kill King Agag
and the best livestock of the Amalekites.
Jesus Christ, man! What the hell was your problem?
There still wasn’t enough screams and bloody mommy
and baby bodies to propitiate your wrath?
I didn’t hear any cries for mercy and sword whacks either
in the liberal commentary on the same Bible passage.
The New Interpreter’s Study Bible only remarked,
“Samuel orders Saul to avenge the events of
Exodus 17:8-16 through holy war which
forbids taking prisoners or booty.”
Lord, Lord, love me.
I’m a Liberal.
When I went to BJU and later Fuller Theological Seminary,
eminent archeologist William F. Albright was still living.
He believed the physical evidence for the historical events
behind many Old Testament narratives had been found.
This was wishful thinking.
Excavations at Tell es-Sultan, did not find any traces
of Jericho’s destruction during the time when Joshua
led army of chosen people to conquer and occupy—
excuse me, enter the promised land.
But don’t get me wrong, God almighty.
Every time I hear Mahalia Jackson sing,
“Joshua fit the Battle of JerichoJericho- Jericho…
And the walls come tumbling down,”
O my Sweet Lord,
I’m a believer!
Anyway, there’s also no archeological evidence
or historical records of Hebrew slaves in Egypt.
According to Wikipedia, the “consensus of modern
scholars is that the Pentateuch does not give
an accurate account of the origins of the Israelites,
who appear instead to have come together as
a separate and distinct people from the indigenous
Canaanite culture in the central highlands of Canaan
in the late 2nd millennium BCE.
So with all due respect, All Knowing God, what I’d
like to understand is how can you remember
what never happened?
Of course you didn’t answer.
The genocide in 1st Samuel 15 never happened either.
According to 1st Samuel 30:1–2, the Amalekites invaded
the Negev and Ziklag in the Judean/Philistine border
area towards the end of the reign of King Saul, burning
Ziklag and taking its citizens away into captivity.
The future king David led a successful mission against
the Amalekites to recover "all that the Amalekites
had carried away.”
Thank God, you changed your mind on collective punishment,
when you said in Deuteronomy 24:16, “Parents shouldn’t be
executed because of what their children have done; neither should
children be executed because of what their parents have done.
Each person should be executed for their own guilty acts.”
Ended conversation with evolving and elusive deity…
All shook up by fictitious account of ancient holocaust…
Turn on television…
See rubble from Israel Defense Force bombing…
Hear TV voice—
“Over 10,000 dead in Gaza…
More than 4,000 of them—
Children…”
* A quote from 1st Samuel 15:2 by Benjamin Netanyahu
** I Samuel 15:1-3 21st Century King James Version
*** Mark 15:34
Dean Okamura
This is where We start
Past the line,
You swore
You’d never cross.
No amount
of contrition
can undo … (It’s done)
It’s done, &
there must be
a way to fix … (Rewind)
But shame, fear,
take hold,
take control.
Till there You are,
crossing the line,
You swore … (Never again)
The illusion
of control,
fallacies of falsehoods,
Hiding failures
in shadows
of deception … (Until)
Every eye
in the house
sees You naked … (Exposed)
It’s done, &
the guilt hooks,
piercing deep … (Unending)
Let’s agree,
We are imperfect,
not ascendant.
Let’s agree,
cutting off
Our noses … (To spite)
Our faces
is needless,
self-focused … (Destruction)
It's done, &
This is where
We start.
Matt McGee
Nag
The line Travis can’t forget tonight
is the one his so-called best, oldest friends
claim to have once seen his baby mama snort
off a bartender’s dick, or so goes the story better left
in everyone’s past, like his night beneath the purple and
blue and green lasers of a Valley strip club in 2017
the implants used to snort two rails in an attempt
to forget the new relationship and the baby
who hadn’t yet bound them forever.
Flight Path
If you sit in the parking lot late at night,
after the last exhausted and unpaid souls
that keep a community theatre boiling
have finally slogged home,
and you stare into the starlit sky,
you'll see the building is directly
beneath the southern flight path
leading into LAX.
And you might get the feeling
someone out there
still needs a guiding light.
On the Lamb
Rolling Ventura Boulevard
dog in the backseat
a fugitive who’s never given anyone
a day of trouble.
Walker in the trunk
his best friend not returning calls
an indifferent family, loyal
only to the game of sarcasm.
The day after she’s led away
he wakes to sunlight, thinking:
today is the first day
of the end of your life.
Point A to B
Most journeys are rarely a straight line
as simple as going from Point A to B -
just ask any waitress with a Fitbit.
Shannon said “I got fourteen hundred
steps in today, all from walking around
this place over and over and over. Says
here I burned off thirteen hundred calories
just in the last five hours, but that’s not counting
the chicken fingers and basket of fries I put away.”
CLS Sandoval
Never At Ease
Perhaps it would be better as a mindless automaton,
Than to actually grasp what is going on.
Maybe it is best for further my heart to sink,
Than to have to analyze and deeply think.
The more I break down in this lifetime,
The more I feel that what I have done is a crime.
Each day my past becomes even more real,
And this burning is all that I can feel.
I have found that I am utterly useless,
And existence is nothing more than pointless.
Each moment, I reflect upon mistakes I have made,
And through my misery, I incessantly wade.
My mind spins around, deconstructing too much,
And I will do anything to resist human touch.
I look forward to my very last breath,
That time when I can finally eternally rest.
The Metaphor that Wished He Was a Simile
Just as I have selected a blank page
I discover a big black ink blot between the lines
We’re only separated by a table and two coffee mugs
And we’re oceans apart
The photos record each look, every hidden glance
Between my audio and your visual, there is a reality we will both manage to miss
You’re sitting back, delicately observing
As if I’m perfectly pirouetting on Pointe
I’m actually an elephant in high heels
Attempting to sit on a tiny red footstool
My tutu is sagging and you keep complimenting my sense of style
I could just say, “you’re everything”
But I must protect my heart
You’re taking these moments too lightly or maybe a little too deep
We’re speaking so smoothly
Flawlessly articulating a performance that can never actually sustain
My heart is a pile of glass shards
Yours might be, too
All we need is to find the one with the matching jagged edges
To make ourselves whole once more
I opened one more wound
Just to prove I’m willing to love again
The tornados are churning and all you suggest is we close the blinds
We’re reaching for each other and you’re threatening to just walk away
The last thing I want to do waste your time
The anticipation built as I combed my hair
Chatted nervously about you with my best friend
Carefully selected the outfit that would never reveal that I carefully selected it
And I waited
You never came
Behind your smiling and my razor-sharp wit
There are magnets locking, and you keep forcing them apart
I deleted your words just in time for you to invade my dreams once more
I want nothing more than for you to earn your second chance
Of course, I never stick with a metaphor long enough to warrant a response
Worth It
We humans make things so damn complicated.
Why do we pursue degrees and fill our lives
with relationships and work or anything at all?
What is the point?
Who cares what happens in this life anyhow?
You leave just the way you started:
naked, helpless, with nothing to offer.
What is there to motivate us but the King Himself?
How are we to compare to Him?
Why has God put us here?
Why should we care?
We bear our to-do lists, accomplish what we can,
make a little money, and then go broke.
Why even try?
Maybe we should all just praise God then die.
Why not?
I have found Christ who is worth dying for.
I have always said that I wanted to be someone’s wife,
raise his children,
and grow old in his arms.
But why?
Honestly, what good would come of that?
Perhaps the secret is finding someone worth living for.
I guess I’ll be as patient as I can and wait to see who’s worth it.
Ellyn Maybe
How to Stay Alive
Hold a musical note until it covers your soul.
Your memory will become blurred.
Loneliness is a verb.
Jump into a painting now and then.
Merge with an alphabet in the pages of a book.
When the world becomes too much remember,
The tin can line of all who have felt like that is infinite and eternal.
Like breath itself, reverberating on an ocean, taking in the breeze.
Mary Mayer Shapiro
Life’s Circle
Security of the womb
A safe haven
Like an island
Surrounded by amniotic fluid
As embryo size enlarges
Months proceed by
It's time to exit
Going towards the light
Which points the way
You push your head out
And view your surroundings
Your life consists of boundaries
Stay on the edge
Or go outside the box
Start out horizontal
Parallel to the ground
Continue towards vertical
Go in circles, zigzag, diagonal
Hills and valleys
Ride the waves, curves or broken lines
Turbulence of life
All points in one direction
All lines point to the light
Go towards the light
Cross over the line
Unique Views
Looking out my magic window
Into the past moving towards the present. Future
Did it all start out with
Cain killing Abel
Evolutionary trait
Power, bully, control, greed, jealousy
Town, city, states, countries
Population grew
Ideas, philosophy, types of leadership
Government through religion
My way or no way
Master races
Eliminate the weak
Do not get involve, save yourself
Until it comes your turn
Do as I say, not as I do
Sterilizing indigenous, DNA pool shrinking
See evil, do nothing, then you become next
War destruction, foes then friends repeat
Holocaust throughout the centuries, people turn a blind eye
Eradicate, destroy, protect yourself
There is nothing left, darkness waste
Earth’s rotation slows down, longer summers, longer winters
Hot sun bakes, winter freezes
Can’t we all get along
Agree to disagree
No finger left to point
Don Kingfisher Campbell
Vista Point
Pan down from vast
Baby blue sky
Low horizontal clouds
Over brown haze
Outside one can make out
Downtown skyscrapers
Come closer and see
Colorado Boulevard buildings
Looking like a village
Surrounded by trees
Just below the foothills
Houses, backyards, pools
Matchbox cars parked
On the gray veins
Wooden telephone poles
Veer away from hills
On the dusty trail
Groups of morning walkers
Sweaty steady runners
Water bottle equipped hikers
Wear wide brimmed
Earth-colored hats
A father carries young
Son on his shoulders
White bearded man leans
On a crooked cane past
Agave cacti, shrub roots
Run alongside cliffs
Hybrid butterflies dance
Around purple thistle
Bee flies dart into/
Out yellow mustard
Spot a long spotted
Lizard in the brush
An empty Capri Sun
Packet on the path
Clear plastic sandwich
Bag at the edge
Torn portion of 500 count
Bath tissue farther away
Cobalt beer can rests
Amidst the bushes
Head Lines
The Egyptian Army
dissolved parliament
without me
Arcade Fire
won a Grammy
without me
Governor Brown considered
a Supreme Court appointment
without me
The Lakers lost
to the Magic
without me
(but I was watching
from a bar
in Montecito)
Poets performed
in Pasadena
with me
(only I don’t see
that in the newspaper
for some reason)
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Just indulge me here. I am the customer. You are? asked the Toad. That's news to me. The Scorpion was already sitting on him. Take me...
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Pointing Across the Imaginary Lines of Extinction A mother came to the library in search of a third-grade dinosaur book. I told her that I s...