Pretty Cows

March 25, 2010

I look at the pretty cows.
But I am no bull
I have no interest, now
or ever,

they graze and laze
around their pasture
spending their days
in the sun.

They are lovely
even attractive in some ways
I’m sure, their hooves and big eyes
and their hair.

Anything bovine,
even be she a princess
and a prize, or divine,
she will always be a cow.

Pin Me Down

March 23, 2010

I’m never where I should be,
never where I could be,
never where you would be if you were me.

I’m always where I am
doing what I do
and I always keep moving.


March 23, 2010

I’m a people watcher
I really don’t care for them,
I watch like I’d watch flies on my oatmeal,
I am curious and disturbed.

I am no better than they are
I’m also just looking for food,
looking to reproduce,
to create,
and to mind my own business
until I die.

Until I die.
Do they comprehend the idea of their own finiteness?
As they buzz and vomit
and enjoy my oatmeal
do  they set alarms on their wristwatches?
Do they worry that I might swat them?

Why don’t they?
Shouldn’t I be guaranteed, by my greater strength
and might and violence,
to witness them cower?
To experience their fear.

Instead they keep walking,
hopping and squirming.
Probably smiling.
What are they smiling about?
Why such a gleam in their eyes?
Aren’t they just flies?

Someday (The Living Dead)

March 21, 2010

Remember when someday
was a dream
instead of an excuse?

Remember when you were alive.

Remember when,
before rigor set in,
and you could flex your knees?
You were flexible

you had dreams.

Before your eyes closed
you did things
that made you happy.
You were happy.

Before your heart stopped
you loved
and were loved.

You were alive.

Now you are dead.
Someday came,
and it went.

Lions and Cell Mates

March 21, 2010

What would I know?
What could I know?

Nothing, nothing nothing.

My spirit stalks
like a lion behind its bars.
You can tell he’s a killer
though he’s fat with ease.
His mane ripples yet his roar
is mute.

I hate the zoo.

I still know nothing of me
and nothing of you.
Nothing but the handlers
that feed me.

I spend time searching
finding the boundaries of my pen
and coming to know each inch,
I spend time making it mine
marking it —
claiming it.
But it is still a pen
and I am still in it.

I know nothing of lions,
come to think of it.
I only know exhibits
and cell mates.

Start Over and Rebuild

March 20, 2010

Leave it
Bring nothing
Start over
and rebuild.

Fire cures memory
and passion cures restlessness
moving cures lethargy
imagination cures
and focus cures fear.

Love and Desire

March 18, 2010

There is love,
and there is desire.
Rarely do they coexist in our lives.

Desire is mutually exclusive
love is wanton.

We can desire
or we can love.
We can want
or we can have.
We can hold
or we can let go.

There is this girl
and I am wanton for her.
But my desire
may kill it.

Body Heat and Air

March 18, 2010

Being together isn’t about sharing space,
it isn’t about touching
feeling body heat
and sharing air.
Being together isn’t the opposite of apart
and it isn’t the alternative
to being alone.

The Mountain Climber

March 14, 2010

Mountains and cliffs and oceans
he climbed, scaled, and dove deep.

He died saving a horse,
lost his mind at any rate.

And what a thing to lose.

Which would he have preferred
to keep?
We will never know.

The Next Town Meeting

March 10, 2010

Over in the city they grow them fat.
Even their dreams have gotten lazy;
IKEA furniture,
A new dinette.
A job.

A car.
You know they don’t even walk anymore.
They buy treadmills.
Their treadmills have cup holders.

When I walk
they beep their angry car horns,
and look mad.
Furious that I could pollute their commute.
Thats why I don’t shave
so that I look like they need me to.
Give them something to bring up at the next
town meeting.

Life to them is just  something to endure,
there’s something wrong with that.