A Squirrel Stood Watch, Part 1
A Squirrel Stood Watch
A squirrel stood watch, listening to the music,
Looking at me till I looked at him.
I had hoped to settle into the day
After too many days of straining gnats.
The people who make up my integrity
Had gathered. With difficulty, I presented my gift.
The squirrel remembered its self and ran.
The humans stayed awhile and spoke,
Hugged, applauded, then remembered their selves too.
For the Offering
Styrofoam cup, Budweiser bottle,
Shredded pink plastic for the offering;
Gathered to the can by a black man dressed in white
Who then sat at the park bench in shade
Of tall oaks. A brown leaf
Floated, tumbled from the omnipresent sky.
With Rolled Edges
Trees shake rain from their branches & leaves.
Dark clouds move quickly to gather the lightning.
A twinge of pain enters the corner of my mouth.
La la, la la - a squirrel nibbles a nut.
Your ways are strange & filled w/ busyness;
Regretful of a morning & longing for rest.
With rolled edges, quick clouds pass smoothly,
Two crows, a few sparrows, thunder, rain.
It Was Me
When I woke, wind hummed at the window;
Black clouds fled thru' turquoise sky.
And I would flee too: the winds of accusation.
But, it's true. I did it. It was me.
Rorschach
There was ice on the wall next door - a Rorschach
Textured in dust where the downspout leaked -
Ghost of a Christmas tree between two windows.
One was boarded up. A finger of live
Pine pointed at the ghost's heart.
Candles Have Been Lit
Wet brown leaves stuck to concrete,
A pair of squirrels' nests but the tent is gone
Where the young woman had lived w/ an extension chord.
I sit in therapeutic peace & serenity, Yes Sir.
The war is somewhere else, there are no sirens,
No one is being tortured; candles have been lit:
Love, Joy, Peace & Long Suffering.
Silence & Ice
A shudder of dry leaves. No walkers
Till a man came out of the porta-potty dressed
For winter. I had my hat & coat on
Too while the automobile warmed up.
I noticed houses that were there when I came;
Remembered a field full of snow
Where I walked slowly to the edge of the swamp.
There were no porta-potties there, only
Silence & ice filled with fallen sticks.
The Feast Spread for Us
Sunlight bright upon snow --
Our predicted gift as promised.
And I've spread seed upon it. The juncos
Have come to eat when the cardinals will allow.
The exhaustion & humiliation of love have come
And gone again, so we'll sing & sit down to eat
The feast spread for us while we may
With the children laughing & Grampa watching
And wishing then all well this Christmas Day.
The Common Sky
I'd sharpened a pencil & sat down to look.
Surrounded by dark clouds, a glow came
And went in thru' the blinds, across the rug.
My grumpy spirit turned to where
The Life remains. And The Life called me out.
Crow spoke over bare trees on the mountain,
"There will be a gathering soon & you must be there
To celebrate the common bread, the common blood & sky.
Quiet but for the Sound
Quiet but for the sound of waves on the highway,
Occasional twitter, whisper of dry leaves.
I've neglected my friends again tho' they are with me always.
I will speak to them soon, before I sleep.
"Prepare the field & then build the house."
I'm drawn back to this after a time of distraction:
Friends & words & sunlight's return.
Under bare trees, a glimmer on green.
What Must I Do?
The other morning a little bird told me,
"The clouds will soon go & the way will be clear."
And, it was as the little bird said. But now
The clouds have returned & my body is tired.
I must listen closely & ask the right question.
What must I do to to end my time well? (?)
Just South of the River
Branches under a weight of snow,
White sky; a time only for the gentlest of blessing.
I'm dressed but the morning is awkward w/ expectation
(And the prospect of wet feet.)
Steadied by a friends rebuke, I make my preparations --
Oil my boots & my hair -- anointed.
I find the long coat & red scarf & I'm out:
One of the wonders of nature just south of the river.
Dark and Wet
A gentle guitar in a distant room;
Dark days, dark and wet.
A creek runs under thick ice.
Expectation trickles into regret.
Knowledge comes with harsh demands.
Understanding compensates the workman.
Sticks and styrofoam sit in brown leaves.
Squirrel stops and starts, a nut in his mouth.
Adventure AD 2022
Expectation (Sunday November 28 AD 2021)
Most of the leaves were down but there were still red berries
Oak trees in motion, children's voices at play
My ambition wouldn't leave me so I searched among the roots
With fingernails dirty & broken, I'm smiling again
Hidden in thickets of perception, alert I watched
The lions pass then stepped into the street
Sun low in the sky at noon, warms
My face, children's voices & dogs w/ sticks
Safe, Friendly & Complete (Sunday December 5 AD 2021)
Rattle of dry leaves & a steady whirling
Down, train whistle, shepherd chasing a ball
Chewing on failure, chewing on pride, he
Turned & was reminded of who he is
Called by an evenly balanced weight of words
To a stable structure fitted to his lips
More leaves flew from the elderly oak like
A flock flying in to repair the earth
Brightness (Sunday December 12 AD 2021)
Bright morning long shadowed, edged
With frost, a voice of a child called out at the corner
Quiet mind edged w/ trouble: social urgency
A distant scream, the uncertain voice of an old woman
Her son was never tricky enough to get rich, nothing there
Anyway & so long looking before he could go
The day would be bright w/ long shadows after
The twisting wind, only a gentle motion of dry leaves
Love (Sunday December 19 AD 2021)
Sunlight came & went & grey clouds
Moved slowly over me among the nodding leaves
Cold, I went in to sit by the fire & listen
To glad music & hammers; I called this home
And kept my eyes open as long as I could, I
Was well dressed for a modest working man
Waiting on the ones I work for, expecting
In the end, a world of kindness, affection & good food
In the House of Bread
(Sunday December 26 AD 2021
for Aunt Becky)
Fog, a fallen tree, a branch of mistletoe
Sun gone into a red reminder
Awkward I walked avoiding the tangled branches
Failing to make sense, I finally said goodnight
(A child had been born into the place made for it
Born like me in an age of duplicity & trauma)
A long winged bird passed over my head, a shadow
Of blessing headed toward the gone sun
Ready to Ride
For the friends & family of Paul “Red Oak” Puntenney
(Strong, good looking, burned hot & split easy)
Empty & Waiting
The bells had begun to ring & I looked into the mirror
Behind me people walking slowly toward the door
I’m empty & waiting for a change to come
Some inclination to put me back to work
You reach up & I reach down to pick you up
And then you are me w/ aching shoulders
Digging & lifting & sorting thru’ files
Looking for something to bring back the joy
Even Your Son
I saw the sky turn red & the crow
Came by from the west w/ the same old story
“The wind is rising & you’ll soon be gone”
Still there is some unfinished work
Kindness & generosity to be reciprocated
Even your son has offered his assistance
Careless cricket chirps on, oblivious
Spider in her web... song bird singing
This Given Day
The morning bird woke & began to sing
Soon the day would become obvious
Even to me in my disappointment
Too slow to be seen I slink thru’ shadows
Wanting to be generous I keep on looking
For something I might have that I could give to you
Something acceptable on this given day
Standing in this light & the morning birds singing
Wide Open & Free
Red magnolia seed shines in the pod
Cicada & crickets & once again mown lawns
Still I despair of tying anything together
Except for this time to the timeless being
Existence leads my eye to the sky
And back again in memory to the eyes I’ve seen
I long for you now sitting under this tree
Wishing you well wide open & free
A Blind Man at the Door
Humans walking wearing clothes
Synthesized materials against hot flesh
Tired & waiting, anxious to grow tired
Of everything that once stimulated their angry minds
Crowds gather outside to argue loudly
Over both sides of an unsubstantiated insinuation
Then come in or go out to eat blood & frolic
(There’s a blind man at the door & his ears are burning)
Best Wishes or a Trail of Ants
His shoes are dusty & his pants don’t fit
Grass turning brown... sparrows are thirsty
He doubts that he’ll ever finish his work
So he sends his best wishes & feels much better
Maybe later he’ll remember how to tell the story
Find a way to make up for all the tedium
A soft train whistle... a whirring of wheels
A trail of ants that comes & goes
Ready to Ride
There had been some rain during the night
Trees waving sadly w/ knowledge of autumn
And I’m sad too the red oak fallen
I’m walking slowly dragging a stick
Checking the sky for a lingering spirit
Old friend ready to ride range on the universe
Red hair flying & waving that Stetson
“Come on, jimmy, you won’t believe what’s out here”
Passing Thru’
Cool in the shade & the morning light
Mockingbird beside himself w/ so many tunes
I’m relaxed now learning to be grateful
Choices made about occupation – listening
In gratitude to those who’ve been kind to me
Thanking the one who’s beyond me
Walking the road we all must take
Just passing thru’ on my way home
Mostly Sky
Here below tree tops & ornate cornices
In the un-mown lawn surprise crocuses
I wait for a word a wonder a wisdom
Small but here among the others
Working for the renewal & preservation of existence
Reaching for all that we have in common
And hoping that we will stand up again
There’s more sky than anything else
A Sudden Gladness
Yellow leaves brighten the ground
Crocuses poking the sky w/ lavender
A sudden gladness to see & be seen
Passing thru’ the foyer w/ my hat in my hand
The special one in me has begun to expect
Kindness consideration & a satisfactory heft
Taking on the persona as well as the work
And the holly bush standing full of red berries
At the Curb/At the Center
At the curb had begun the piling of leaves
The opening up of the canopy of blue
Like a benefit of joining in on the conversation
W/ admiration for the ones who are able to speak
Submitting to each other an honest perspective
A pleasure that doesn’t depend on ridicule
And the sky still there in its infinite loop
Everywhere everyone at the center of the universe
Red Dragon
Fire & Brimstone
At the curb brown leaves turned to mud
Mixed w/ bits of plastic & cardboard
Desperate to rest awhile so I can turn
To whatever comes from the ocean or from the ground
Trouble no doubt tears & drying of tears
Screams of lust & heaves of sighing
Locusts like horses w/ stinging tails
Masses of horses breathing fire & brimstone
The Terrifying Breath
In the woods unlike the city a flag
Is easy to see & much more lovely
Unencumbered by terror & disgust
The shame & exhaustion that accompanies old age
And the sight of the dead lying in the street
If they’d only get up everyone would be impressed
With a tremendous sigh & lifting of hands
Having survived the poison & the terrifying breath
Sunlight Thru’ the Window
With strings & trailing wisps of white
A strident saxophone enters stage right
And I’ve always been impressed by a good horn
Today tho’ I look around for something to follow
A dragon say or some horny beast
Impressing us at last to expressions of wonder
Saxophone riffing along in time
Sunlight thru’ the window warm on my neck
While the Daffodils Bloom
A woman in the sky dressed only in sunlight
Standing on the moon about to give birth
While the writer watches & the dragon waits
And we limp along the street w/ our sealed foreheads
Wishing each other well from a safe distance
Not nervous out here but somewhat embarrassed
Hiding our faces while the daffodils bloom
Again Please
Gray green yellow & purple
Gossiping birds giddy w/ spring
And me troubled by the preacher asking Jesus
Again please come in out of the cold
I’ll be making dinner soon we
Have wine & fish & a bowl of rice
The cute little mocking beast tho’
With his dragon breath can stay outside
The Quick Moving Sky
Sirens & wind & the testimony of witnesses
Greenwood waving for our attention
And people dying of course while you dream
Of people dying w/ red noses & turning to coal
The living are mostly friendly & interested from their distance
The ones who’ve come out to breathe while they can
Admiring the flowers & leafy seedlings
The scent of the hyacinth & the quick moving sky
Cleanliness is Next
Squirrel over a branch gnawing a nut
Willow swaying softly red birds tweet
Curiously I’m relieved in the sunlight something
Accomplished tomato seedlings & edges
That gigantic old dragon no longer in the sky
So don’t get to easy it may be at the door
Forked tongue flicking & a deal for you
Cleanliness is next & the washing of doorknobs
Answering the Wind
Purple Violets & red columbine
Yellow trees sway & answer the wind
Living here among the dead composting
Standing up again again among the living
A voice like a waterfall following me around
While the red dragon goes viral killing to survive
The forest trees sway & answer the wind
We walk among fields of violets & wonder
Fresh Growth
Staring out the window there are maple seeds everywhere
Fresh growth too in the Christmas tree
And I fallen into lassitude irritation & discomfort
Growling w/ every sticky detail
While the tiny horn boasts a lying narrative
His ill fitted crown slipped to one side
And while the spokesperson tried to explain
Someone ran down the hall & crashed out the window
Who I Am/Written on a Stone
Rain wet road & big maple leaves
Rippling puddles in a cracked sidewalk
I’m standing by the window in muted daylight
Considering the question at the side of the road
The book of life & the lamb that was slain
Looking for a name that’s written on a stone
To put in my pocket so I can carry it along
To remind me who I am when I have forgotten
Rain on the Way
Look up; there's a lamb standing on the mountain
At the foot of a forest of tall oak trees
Atrocities have been done in the towns & in the country
Along the borders that naturally would mean nothing to anyone
There's a light that rises & moves toward the gate
Highlighting the kindness in your troubled forehead
There's a voice like a waterfall like thunder & mandolins
With the oak trees singing, rain on the way
Signs of Conversation
The hawk had gone that was standing in sunlight
A blanket & pillow abandoned in shade
My sense of affection too was detached
Passing by the signs of conversation
Witnessing the mystery of endurance & imposition
Common tongue & automatic rifles
While the old whore sat by the river, frailing
A tune to call back her cruel lovers
Mourning Dove Insistent
Chirping bird lavender, yellow roses by the statue
I'm wearing a blanket over my shoulders
Wanting rest from the nights of explosion & glare
To get ready for the next round of trouble
There are many whose names have never been written
Aching for the normal that brought us thus far
Covered in insults the mourning dove insists
And the bees one more time among the flowers
The White Crane Too Has Flown
Black birds circle the flowering tree
There's been rain & a damp coolness set in
I've risen again from my memories of failure
I'm tired of them, they don't do me any good
The thunder the lightning the gusting wind
Are gone & the seven plagues to follow
Then the silent voice says, come this way
The white crane too has flown from the river
Rain on the Way
Look up; there's a lamb standing on the mountain
At the foot of a forest of tall oak trees
Atrocities have been done in the towns & in the country
Along the borders that naturally would mean nothing to anyone
There's a light that rises & moves toward the gate
Highlighting the kindness in your troubled forehead
There's a voice like a waterfall like thunder & mandolins
With the oak trees singing, rain on the way
Open Your Ears
Daylilies have bloomed & shoes have been thrown
Mockingbird notes in bright morning air
Resting my ears & dissonant mind
Watch awhile, look & see
If you’re for prison, to prison you must go
Cut people down & you will be cut
Written to open your ears to endure
Taking a knee is the posture of a servant