Animal satori

How daring are you? You have a choice: all
all in or all out, fall in or fall out. The love
that can be defined simply is not the true
love. Upon discovering this, a trumpet
of sunlight and maybe even enlightenment!
Maybe you can describe it well – but likely
not.  If you meet the true love on the road:
kill ‘im. Or some detachment to that effect.
One more time: How daring are you? The
next breath tells more than you know.

A sonnet for ODOT* (rules for the road)

Notice for those in fender-benders: The insurance company
declines the word "accident." It's a crash or a collision or
sometimes a hit-and-run. You decide. Your friendly driver's manual
has prescriptions for staying in the clear: Do not hit other cars
bikes, pedestrians, or squad cars. Driving is not the time
to solve problems, plan trips, daydream, or read. "I was reading
my driver's manual on my Smart Phone," is not a good defense.

Concentrate: In front of you, behind you, on both sides of you.
For extra Zen, awareness of what is above or below you
may be credited. But here's the deal: If something goes bad, stop -
or turn turn turn the wheels. Other tips: No pets, packages or
persons in your arms when you drive. It is dangerous to eat
let alone drink when you drive. Let the kids rumpus
until they make you pull over: You know they'll be sorry then.

Your car mirror is not designed to give you a good view
of your make up. Put your eyes on the road; hang up and drive.

 

                                    * www.odot.state.or.us/forms/dmv/37.pdf

Unlike Rumi

(for Tony)

The snow falls, a nail

runs down the chalkboard of Spring.

The glassblower’s breath.

Don’t fall in

half sonnet for the swirlies (news from a small town 2012)

every first of the year or so, there’s a marathon.
my trash can, your trash can, their trash can
all gather on the street for the race to Union County.
it’s the day for pick up, always coordinated
with the first husky wind out of nowhere.
don’t forget the prizes for the best run race: a

barely-used tarp or a new lid for the one that got away.

winter travel

the snow erupts
a hundred white buntings
one longspur

Smile, smile

Is it true if you can’t make it until death do you
in this place
you still have to serve your in-laws
breakfast
there being only one or two cafes for
Sunday out,
and them being chummy with your boss?
Eat it,
suck it up with a big smile and say,
“I always
did like you better’n him, anyway,”
or hope
they’ll be so kind to say it as he sits with the
new bride
across the street in the other place.
“Besides,” says
your ex father-in-law, “Johanna does make
a fine
bacon-and-eggs.” Your ex mother-in-law, whom
you took
to the city for the false alarm tests
to see
if that bad cough was cancer doesn’t
say much,
but she makes sure to count your tip
exactly. Can’t
be shorting you, but then again -
she IS
his mom, you know she hopes you’d do
the same
for the grandson you never gave her.
Clear off,
set the four top. Here comes the church crowd.
Smile, smile.

Short Shorts!

Donkeys

Kick through freeze thaw leaves

and snowmen. Meteoric

lilies. The universe.

Hangnail

The pink fingernail

weeps vineyards of red iron

where there is no tear-duct.

Some days

Even little cranes need help

folded tightly on the wooden desk

where wind or breath might blow them off.

Neutercane

The midsection of a tall portly horse.

The relentless pursuit of cats.

Sometimes the frontal edge of a cyclone.

Look Out! I’ve Just Sacredized Aspen!

The people who visit

are possessed by the spirits

of birds. A juncture

of seemingly disconnected,

but related, things.

More Room to Fail

Mad freedom, mad failure,

too mad to fall or fail.

Look out! I’ve just sacredized Aspen again!