the things that happen in a day:
driving thru lands of overflowing
reservoirs
after car would barely start –
was stuck across both lanes
of the street after pulling out
of gas station
red trucks waiting patiently
me waiting patiently for it to start
gas station attendant watching.
it’s about faith. It’s only life
& it’s ok

my arms tight
yesterday’s electric surge overload walking
into department store decorated for xmas
with flashing tvs & technology everywhere –
me a lost animal
in synthetic light flashes that sap our animal
energy
then to natural light-
reflections of skies & trees in
the water, the shadows in the street

no power this morning for 2 hours
at work. sitting quietly in
dark – in states of nature –
not distracted by the electric. remember
that river quiet, dark light of office

Learning to trust my hands to move
on their own while my mouth can
sing or speak. all the greatest
phrases have been spoke. I’m just
gonna sketch a picture of what’s
going on around here

talking to the big crow under
the berry tree, and how it
would have flown away but stayed with
my voice. crow in cloud tree this morning,
carry my prayers across the sky.

car won’t start in the rain saying
you ain’t going nowhere
except porch deck & gas station
to say hey Vicki & bike ride
to get squash soup & squash light streets
saying hell yes in dish water to T Rex

the band of seagulls being pushed by
the wind – starbursts with one pigeon trying
to join them
the wind twinkling my eyes
the cleanest love
dreaming of being protected by poet
ghost, people with guns were going to kill
me. But I held her tight & she lied to
the people to save me. I clenched my eyes
closed not wanting to see my murder
but she told them, “she can’t die” and they
let me live. this poet ghost hangs my favorite
poems from the sky. She goes across the country
hanging night chants from the sky.
this morning the swamp plants
cattail like and open
with white feather seeds
in the wind. the ground soggy from so much
rain. the footbridge moved –
the creek rushing. but still the big rocks
sticking up as footsteps – as beats
of poems