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Rudimentary Silence

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Only in the slightest

Contradictions find us

Taking a piss in the back of a waiting

Rudimentary silence

Little acts of violence

Testing the waters like leaving the bathtub

Full of standing water

Babies left to wander

Dipping our beaks in a pool not so shallow

Now—

Actions without reason

God I’ve got this feeling

Down like the old folks whose tennis balls are wearing out

Obligations find us

Contradictions bind us

Tight like a truckers hitch secured to nothin but

Ourselves if we’re willing

To hold someone who’s willing

To kick the creator for all the stupid shit we’ve been through

Now—

Everybody wants their own way

Standing on clouds there’s no reason to shout out loud

When everybody gets their own way

I can guarantee somebody won’t be pleased (laugh out loud)

Golden

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Tree lined
suburban, shadowed
street signs
stand aloof
in the quiet morning
daylight gloom
of happy homes
opened doors
and kisses. Questions
fall like flower petals
on sidewalks, cracked
by ancient roots
whose planted hands
can only tell
the difference between
early mornings
and daylights answers.
But the sky is new,
and the desert
Golden, only as old
as the moon which hangs
still as the sun
does rise over broken
glass bottles, which dress
Winnetka, asphalt
like a torn evening gown
come morning.

The turtle and the dove

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“You’re pretty,” said the turtle

to the dove. “Thanks,” said the dove

to the turtle, “but I’m nothing

compared to the peacock.”

“Well, I’ve known many a peacock and

I think you’re much more beautiful.”

“Still I’d rather be a peacock,” said the dove

to the turtle. And I’d rather be a dove,

thought the turtle

as he watched the dove take wing.

hawks, overhead

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Little squirrels

selectively seeking

acorns, oak trees

perfection, little hunters

in the daylight, scrounging

to find, hold, and bury

any nourishment

granted, before those hawks

circling overhead

make their selection.