(an old one from 2006 and pretty danged dark)
spring has lost its bounce and gleam
as round blue ball above wafts mean.
bricks spin round all way to top;
bucket drips while rope end whallops.
breathing breaks then tangles down
to beating thing which aches unfound.
empty runs all dry and deep,
wishing her well waves one last leap.
there’d be none next year
or the next for that matter
after trimmed for cords
roaming their prairies
they were dark rolling thunder
dustclouds shadowed close
portended hide mongers chase
’til future silent ghost herds
it hit me today
have neglected my need
to get out in the middle of nowhere
and spend some quality time with a tree
the muse that lived there
sang with breezy rustles
in the grass and leaves
kinda treezy twang thang
ocho can be eight
or a childs name.
ocho could be a publication
or an utterance having nothing to do with numbers.
ocho can lay down
and be infinity.
ocho can be the shape
of a one sided ribbon.
groovey mobius trip, eh?
silent salmon creek
slipped into noisy breakers
sand hills drifted near
when I look at this picture I think of how lost I was at the time.
drove truck during the day and took long walks with the wolf on mountain trails until dark.
played music with the two girls down the street every other night.
visited friends in town and drank beer on friday and saturday nights unless I was hunting females. and tequila.
chased women in rio and stumptown and rosa on friday and saturday nights and was usually lucky.
chased women away the next day when all of a sudden they wanted to spend the weekend.
moped around from time to time thinking of that space cased girl with the blue crazy eyes and lopsided smile.
took the dog to the river in the good weather almost every day after work so he could achieve obsessive ball returner status again and again.
sat on the back deck far above the descending hill pointed west south west into the sequoia and just stared.
enjoyed the flood of February 1986 which overflowed the banks of the russian river and kept me from work for a couple days.
the wolf and I had a generator, cb radio, an early vhs unit, a bunch of movies and beer, tequila and a cupboard full of produce.
the neighbors were at the door in no time asking about the power and then seeing the movies and smelling the popcorn and beer, invited themselves and their families down for the evening.
had about 20 people in my living room for two afternoons and evenings.
it was the first time any of them had met each other or found out each others names.
I knew who they all were but didn’t bother them with that.
after that everybody waved and honked their horns and left bones for chevy chaser the wolf faced boy.
after the flood everything on that twisting road in the forest was different.
after that when those thoughts of those crazy blue eyes wouldn’t leave me alone the beauty of the forest hurt.
from time to time I would say her name out loud and my wolf would say, “I love you”.
once in awhile I would say her name and he’d say “hello”.
it felt like an ice pick in the heart and he looked like he felt it too.
but heck, that’s just me anthropomorphising again.