Suburban House Love

We could be in a kitchen,
someday.
She and I.
A kitchen in a suburban home
in Wisconsin,
someday.
A Saturday afternoon,
for our little boy’s birthday party.
Wood grain cabinetry
and splatter sprayed dry wall.
Light blue balloons,
pink and yellow ones too,
taped to the walls, ceilings,
kitchen appliances, and doorways.
We could be there
with the
fluorescent light
merged with
the sunlight from windows
to warm us and turn our feelings
to goodness.
To know what it’s like to have
relaxed muscles and breath.
To feel cold iced tea move
over our tongues.

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Barbara And Raymond

Barbara & Raymond

I saw them on a road

On a road in New Zealand

Pine trees rose up like toothpicks

Mountains browned and tired with
sand grains in the distance

She carried her velum curves

They had softened since her younger
years

Carried them up the slopes by the
roadway

He held out his hand asking her to
come back down

She clamored up the dry grass toward
the pines

There was a cut on his cheek from her
wedding ring

His cheeks felt like clay

So did his thoughts for his head was
a haze

She stayed like a child by the beef jerky
bark of a tree

And when he finally found her he asked

“Barbara why are you doing this?”

She answered him with blank stares
reflecting on her life

She was beginning to fear her old age

Perfection And The Alcoholic’s Diet Of Unborn Children

alcoholic's diet

This is the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Yes, that’s right

Their parents aren’t perfect but wanted
to be

Turning into walls
You didn’t say that sentence properly

That’s funny

Be better

Be quiet, you’re giving me a riot

There . . . ghosts!

Their ghosts?

They live everywhere, even in between the minutes
before watching television

Oh no,
I meant the alcoholic’s diet of unborn children

Not me, not my problem

I don’t have them

Oh just go kill yourself

You drinking again?

I don’t respect you

Little Baby Neal

I had a dream.
It was [blank] and I.
We were walking on what seemed
a neverending 6-inch deep lake.
At parts
we suspected the water was really deep.
It was night and the darkness seemed
neverending too.
Just went on and on.
It was really muddy in areas.
We still had our shoes on.
They were soggy and waterlogged.
It felt as if dawn might start turning at
any moment, out on the periphery and
perimeter, though it still remained
blankly dark where we stood.
Maybe it felt like that cuz we had kept
walking and walking into the lake
and due to how much time had passed
it seemed like dawn must come soon.
[blank]’s wife and another woman,
definitely someone I knew but can’t recall
now, were walking out into the lake too,
off in the distance to our left.
It was as if [blank] and I had set off ahead
to see if we could find a path off or through
the lake.
The women were carrying a really beautiful
blond haired toddler girl named Neal.
When they finally got close
and we were chatting about what to do
the little girl’s blond hair seemed as vibrant
as fresh flowers there in the darkness.
It was calming to have the little girl around
and I started carrying her in my arm like a dad
holds his own girl.
I kept telling her, “You’re adorable Baby Neal.”
She would giggle and ask,
“Why you say this?”, and all I’d say was,
“Just remember as you grow up, remember
what an adorable little girl you used to be.”
Occasionally, I would look out on the lake
and honestly feel a deep fear and uncertainty,
but something about all of us being together
and the little girl being there made me
hold myself together, to not show fear,
to remain calm and move forward into the lake.
I wondered why the women had been off
on their own, carrying Baby Neal earlier.
It was like we had left them on their own
to look after the child, as men often do.
I thought this dream was a lot about life.
As we move through it
we are uncertain at points, but we have
the reference of those around us to continue
to live.

Oregonian Restoration

Our love
between seasons
goes down under water
without air
the molecules continue
between mountains
and crevices.

Our concepts
take off
talking
before proton shields
in outer space
they’re trying
to talk to them
if
other civilizations
could beam
on
the radio signal.

The civilizations
nestle
and survive
in the brush
of Deschutes Forest
chalk dust
dusty moss
ancient stones
under this sky
singing
forever
and forever
for us and everyone else.

We become
everything
in our flesh
that once touched
each
other.

The bacteria kingdom come
the little nation
undergone a division
the country
of
our bodies
a landscape united
once was.

We have
the dimension
of
autumn
winter
spring
and summer
dimensional time
or
a remembrance of courage.

We last in the journey
up a mountain road
July in Oregon
walking
with children
the
Universe
I’m writing of
right here
in
these hands.

For Naught A Winter Sun

Oh, to be able to see you again in flesh
in the perfect whiteness of your face and curves

to bend the day
and tell the sun the parable of forgotten ellipses

to see the person who is both
the most real and most unbelievable to me

I have been the most real for you too
but you are scared of that now

scared of my dark eyes that always
received the blue of yours

like space receives the fire of stars

in this fear the sun’s journey has not returned
for
the winter of my heart

. . . in your vanished wake

So I sit in a hermitage on Earth

or it could be any lone planet in the cosmos

with a fire of low embers burning

my cold frozen toes
and a cough that reveals the taste of metallic
blood

This is the land of my home

you are not at the ancient hearth

The embers burn, slowly, slowly away

and soon will go the existence of all the Universe
that follows in the death of the sun

Requiem For Dust

When
you’re old
you will not remember me

All
those
neuron clusters
changed and aged

Memories
of
your life
of what you have become

Like
the
ages of past
in
looking at the chalky desert
that’s
what we’ll have become

In
an empty room
your middle-age
daughter
might ask
“who was this?”

To
which
you will answer
“Sweetheart, I do not know”

Invariable Genetics

When you
were in the
bathroom
with me
in the morning
getting ready
or
after a shower
I used
to look into
the mirror
at your
chestnut brown hair
and watch it
curl down your breasts
with your watery blue eyes there
flashing the lights
on
your potent curves
and the overall
queenly distinction
of your face

I would
think about
how good-looking
a son or daughter
from us
would be

I used to
look into the mirror

I used to
look into the mirror

I don’t look in the mirror anymore

You’re gone

That bathroom only
exists in outer space
floating quickly away
from Earth
and
journeying deeper
into the Universe

to a place no one will ever know