"My Boulder"
Sometimes it’s enough
Sometimes it’s enough
knowing
at any given time
on a mountain top
not so far
from my doorstep
sits Another Quiet
Boulderite
meditates over me
along with the entirity
of the city
blessed be the dirty ice
on that flat precipice
against which no wind
of incredulous stares
and no atmosphere
of political parsimony
can tamper
Sometimes I’m that flesh steeple
unbrooding
just a kitty perching
blinking slowly at the sun
that never ceases
shining
on my
Boulder
melts again and again
with me
under that orb
we finally exhale
what the nation cannot
we breathe for them
not the smoke of a dank herb
but the freshness of a special
amalgamation:
consciousness and The Will to Power*
it is our great Privilege
it is our insubordinate
magnanimity is different from pity
it is our regard
Regardless and Supple
a 3D printer jerks less now
and the grass between the pebbles
in the labyrinth
behind the Boulder Public Library
Wears the mud now
well.
*Will to Power
---------------------------------
"Goddess on 30th"
A goddess walks
among us in Boulder
I have met her but
thrice in two years.
I don’t know if she lives
in a home
or under a train track
bicycle path underpass
I don’t know if she speaks
very often
Her hair is like that of my grandmother’s
when she was near death
long
unbrushed
smoke white
and snow gray
down with a shredded pink bow
she dresses her age
for the very old become
so young
so fast these days
down 30th
in a matching tattered bridesmaid dress
from another era
pushing her shopping cart
full of her worldly treasures
like an avocado
her deep wrinkles
indicate a certain ripeness
She walks everywhere
She once handed me 1 crumpled dollar bill
and some change
for some decaf coffee.
I wanted to keep it
and put it in my own
grocery cart of secret
ingredients
but I, a cashier
couldn’t risk such
superfluous superstitions
I don’t doubt
she time travels
because as I see her
moving as slowly
as a grouse crossing the road
she may well be going
faster than the speed of light
She may well
Be.
---------
This is just a syllable experiment:
"Sunday at the Mystic Circus Farm"
2 Today
2 After
6 basking in the warm beams
7 of sunshine through the window
2 I walked
2 through grass
7 the gate of the mystic farm
8 six chickens teeter rapidly
3 To greet Me
3 Hungrily
8 from opposite end quibbling
9 the white ones bounce and squawk away
3 the speckled
3 gray as slate
9 hunching down, a chicken who knows love
10 signals for me to pet Her, I’m honored.
6 for to pet a chicken
5 may be no great feat
8 but it is a rare chicken who
5 despite a bird brain
4 clamors for love
----------
"Freya's Villanelle"
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
Leaping up the cabin ladder to see
There is no movement, only light
Though for a cat, power is height
Be it a person or a tree
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
Caring only for range of sight
Crouching low, a focused chi
There is no movement, only light
Dreaming of a mole's plight
Real-ized, as a bee
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
For a collection of might
Could it be that easy?
There is no movement, only light
Then a flash of cat through the night
Silences the window thumps of a bee
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
There is no movement, only light
it is our insubordinate
magnanimity is different from pity
it is our regard
Regardless and Supple
a 3D printer jerks less now
and the grass between the pebbles
in the labyrinth
behind the Boulder Public Library
Wears the mud now
well.
*Will to Power
---------------------------------
"Goddess on 30th"
A goddess walks
among us in Boulder
I have met her but
thrice in two years.
I don’t know if she lives
in a home
or under a train track
bicycle path underpass
I don’t know if she speaks
very often
Her hair is like that of my grandmother’s
when she was near death
long
unbrushed
smoke white
and snow gray
down with a shredded pink bow
she dresses her age
for the very old become
so young
so fast these days
down 30th
in a matching tattered bridesmaid dress
from another era
pushing her shopping cart
full of her worldly treasures
like an avocado
her deep wrinkles
indicate a certain ripeness
She walks everywhere
She once handed me 1 crumpled dollar bill
and some change
for some decaf coffee.
I wanted to keep it
and put it in my own
grocery cart of secret
ingredients
but I, a cashier
couldn’t risk such
superfluous superstitions
I don’t doubt
she time travels
because as I see her
moving as slowly
as a grouse crossing the road
she may well be going
faster than the speed of light
She may well
Be.
---------
This is just a syllable experiment:
"Sunday at the Mystic Circus Farm"
2 Today
2 After
6 basking in the warm beams
7 of sunshine through the window
2 I walked
2 through grass
7 the gate of the mystic farm
8 six chickens teeter rapidly
3 To greet Me
3 Hungrily
8 from opposite end quibbling
9 the white ones bounce and squawk away
3 the speckled
3 gray as slate
9 hunching down, a chicken who knows love
10 signals for me to pet Her, I’m honored.
6 for to pet a chicken
5 may be no great feat
8 but it is a rare chicken who
5 despite a bird brain
4 clamors for love
----------
"Freya's Villanelle"
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
Leaping up the cabin ladder to see
There is no movement, only light
Though for a cat, power is height
Be it a person or a tree
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
Caring only for range of sight
Crouching low, a focused chi
There is no movement, only light
Dreaming of a mole's plight
Real-ized, as a bee
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
For a collection of might
Could it be that easy?
There is no movement, only light
Then a flash of cat through the night
Silences the window thumps of a bee
Freya, a cat, a predator of the night
There is no movement, only light