You broke a bale and scattered August on
the frozen stable boards. December sagged,
her arching tail switched steadily at dawn.
We waited, talked of heifers, fogged and flagged
the conversation cleverly around
a frigid barn. December didn’t care,
she raised her head, was bearing down,
preoccupied with something in the air.
She pushed until we saw two hoofs appear;
the long gestation ruptured, braved the chill
and steaming, slipped into the atmosphere.
December stood and letting down her milk,
wasted streams of warmth around her feet.
We watched until our silence stretched like hands
through polar fronts and taciturn cool sheets.
The moon fell down, the newborn tried to stand,
but vapor veiled our faces as we laughed
together at December’s wobbly calf.


Mayfly Sonnet

Now trees don’t cast their shade, it follows me
and yellows light to fenced anemic hue.
The crooning brook, a dull menagerie:
discordant scales or fish beneath that blue
once fasinated me. Instead, I look
away and focus carefully on dim
horizons, leave the mayfly on the hook,
descending, dive for shadowed cool to swim.
Though still I wonder, what of paths untried;
the splash that I’ve kept thirsty in a dream.
The angled light viewed from the other side,
those might-have-beens that never may be seen.
A transient color stalks the fragile hour,
then quietly it occupies each flower.

Hunter’s Moon

A blood-soaked bulge is leaning on the land
and sliding from horizon’s opened palm.
The hunter’s moon has come to understand
before the sun comes up it will be gone.
Once again the gibbous orb ignites
at dusk, its crooked round, an open wound,
gunshot underneath, exposing white
that leaks through soft as liquified cocoon.
October nights are pierced with lunar curses,
that bleed out in dark battlefields of stars
and hemorrhage the glare of universes
with transformation in their repertoires.
Ordinary shapes are starched and changed,
masked beneath a spectral camouflage
and eerily, perception rearranged,
while Autumn carries out its sabotage.
Entombed in silent screams of moonlit timbre;
the bony trees are clawing on November.


The Wild-mouse and Funhouse.
We rode in the Hammer’s caged
with nausea.

Around us,
of edible pink cotton
out of many fists.
The circular gallop
of impaled steeds
pumped color up and down,
while a recorded organ
ground giddy-up harmony
into the crowd.

Boys with flung arms
snapped toward
pyramids of lead
stacked under shelves
lined with overstuffed
Their undeveloped
men drove miniature cars,
sparked and bumping
in the board-wooden shade;
they somehow, seemed shinier.

Duets of laughter
and regurgitated screams.
with ringlets
soaked in shallow
cups of collar bones.
Your knees,
then ankles met,
bent the calves to pigeoned toes,
elipsed the air with legs
that bowed and formed
the shape of a long heart.

Our braced mouths,
metal-toothed and two
lycra trainer-bras
supporting flat-chested
we were unacquainted
with the moon’s womb-

Carnie hotdogs and snow cones,
the funnel cake looped
through each girlish
gut knew
that this really was
all there would ever be.

Just Gone Blue

Where are you blue?
Caught up in the noonday altitude,
capsized in a comma,
rung through the jagged
edge of a bluebell.
Are you rotten with azure,
bruised by the brisk air,
moving with a glacier, clapped
under a cobalt minor scale
the color of rain.
Riding an indigo’s
night shade
with Bessie
Smith and Bobby
in a sapphire’s flame.
Squawking back
through a Steller’s Jay
bill, puckered on an early
huckleberry. Have you
turned around to turquoise,
found your coy in teal,
or maybe just gone,

Infectious Youth (A fond tribute)

Eternally bleeding from the knife-edge spaces
in the library stone-steps
with breadcrumb-words and apostrophes; donning academic dress and fraternal order,  bursts the young, firm mind, unkempt in cavalcades of originality, dine and dash texts combined with a self-assured intellectuality sponsored by apple curves and way.

Fenced in the wasteland, calculated by the Pound,
price of admission paid
(for future-former associations).
They come:
emanating spring and
dispersing a repetitive freshness
in the wake of their
passage with devastating
sprays of drive-by stanzas.

Herein they go,
rambunctiously dismissive, pleasantly delusional,
(life inebriated, weaves
and sideswipes experience).
Galloping effortlessly through,
with sweater, letter and currency.
robbing and rhyming
schooled and appealingly fooled.
An infectious energy and worse,
we find ourselves in the
precocious lines of their
reconstituted verse.