Wednesday, September 30, 2015


Her sadness couldn't be explained
With words
But she tried to become
A ghost anyway
To describe everything.

About the person
About the poet
They are the same
Why split them

One canceling out the other
That's how to proceed
In the game.  Tennis and all.

Now we read about it.
I think it is about changing places
Disguised as processing and such.
Musical chairs.  Nowhere to sit.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

An Open Letter To My Friends At The Illuminati

FYI Friends,
Please include this in the next newsletter
Secret Information for your eyes only!
I go by Ms. instead of Mr.
And I HUMBLY ask of you WTF
do you find so magnetic about my courageous
yet heartfelt poem, the ever so beautiful
"Toadstools" about a small, innocent Oregon
boom-bust mill town?  About the pizza parlor?
I must admit that I've never seen such a gigantic
American flag, either, blighting the I-5
Corridor I mean room suite wing chateau
palace mansion castle national park.  Lake.
Satan could get pizza, shop at Goodwill personally
THEN praise everything the freeway desires--
swinging back round for hot fudge at McDonald's.
There, now I really said it!  Membership pending
I mean canceling I mean the mill burnt down
how many times now rebuilt each time
fewer cars outside the front by the landscaping
lots of bark mulch even some lavender.

Monday, September 28, 2015

What's For

Salmon meat piled on a platter growing cold everyone waiting outside at the table umbrella even with sparkling water picking the carcass her favorite part that can wait for later I say first generation source.  The sun agreeing with the sky a squat falcon in the field neighbor's goats gone all that walking bringing her nearer and nearer instead of far.

Sunday, September 27, 2015

Brittle And Flat

It's Halloween now.  The air.  The wind.
The moon is Halloween.  Water too cold
to undo.  Grass brittle and flat, smoothing down
slippery.  Leaves stuck.  The rake bringing up nothing
but dust.  Jealousy.  Birds.  Beginning sun.  Wool dress.

The Italian plum taking a stance.  But the apple trees
steady, confident.  Life of burnt toast.  Mineral water.
Halloween is a month away!  How can it have happened?
Empty shoes waiting.  Nubby cement.  Only steps.
Basalt columns. Just add water.  Just add water.  Heat. 

Saturday, September 26, 2015

My Darling Daring

What is here shines larger than my life.
Without a home.  Things are for yesterday.

In between roads I rest.
On yet another road!

We are one country one town.
Trees look far away.  Faces.

She was so upset about the dollar.
We looked for her face but it was nowhere.

I spent it on nothing but a newspaper.
Will we be friends again tomorrow.

Friday, September 25, 2015

What Went

By the wayside dockside
bright on the wall
hats off split words.

I read about language
how it gathers truths
then disperses, oily.

Water.  Sky.  Raven.
All along.  Which.  Al.  k.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

They Spoke Of This

A guy comes from the city
where's the furnace
he went down there
and I thought you're going
to inspect it?  A new power line
they couldn't use the one I had
four and then two and I thought
what the hell and then the landscape
he couldn't have, didn't have a permit
for that.  We did that same thing.  I had
this guy is a professional.  I could look it up.
He told me what to do.  Then the city said.
I never got that permit.  Thirty forty years.
Thirty or forty dollars.  I forgot.  The new ones
you have to bury.  I don't know.  Sat in that one yesterday.
That's just the law.  These aren't going to be easy.

Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Wait A Minute

It got old sleeping on cement
tiring night after night.
Daytime, the town was a huge dump.
Another regime change.
Future dreams.  At night
we made real plans. Stars and all.

Pillows of dust and blankets of blood
were everywhere.  How
could this happen
while you are pondering this
I am running out of everything
chasing my life down the road.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Just Up Ahead

After three days
earth disappears.

Seeing hearing

What startles most
catching up
too late.

Wait for me.
Please wait.

Monday, September 21, 2015

Cave Nest

Things have their names.
Not mistaken.  Look here.

A pine
right out
in the open.

In front of the cavern.
Fun shadows at night.

Ravens getting.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

You Can Take It All With You

There is no other choice.
The dust the dirt comes with you
does not shake off
new clothes
shoes for two years
from now.
Mind not taken but left behind
under the rubble
where someone else
might have a use for it
when you're really gone
when you've really left.

Friday, September 18, 2015

Eugene vs. Eugene

There's always Coburg
give me Coburg.

The hills hump up.

Scratchy boar.
Geese on the fly.

Thursday, September 17, 2015

Eugene vs. Maupin

Uncle Ray





so many

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Eugene vs. Pahoa

Walk over to the food cart
meet old German prof
foot-stomping independance
Nations dancing singing day
into night rain starting.

here is where
There is

Look here

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Their Language

to speak it

whisper above

a whisper.     mainly

with others
Who come from elsewhere too

it will be a long time

like never
derelict muse

we'll call this early fall

you are in your office
and the hours ahead
loopy squirrels

Monday, September 14, 2015

All Normal

Eugene leaves smelling earth salad
River returning cold summer empty
Our tree has a baby growing
in the soft bark mulch cannot tell
who is a hobo and who works
bikes rule the path either side
thinking they are the ones first
too fast all normal now the train

Saturday, September 12, 2015

Missing Places

See those trees their outlines
translations of wind little rain

pears that dropped
swallows reunited.

See to today
bringing hellish smells

past Fair Oaks
we saw the tall flames

lingering so the sun
seeing it remembering.

No, not fire bombs
but looking sounding.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Bedside Table

The figs have ripened sweet
roses love the heat
circles air and leaves
red wing blackbird
somewhat stray



year will be
amusing too
have you

Thursday, September 10, 2015

How To Run From The Funeral

First of all
don't stop.
A green shopping bag
will not clear the way
into the safe zone.
Please tell me
when you find it.
Please let me know
how you got through.

What is waiting?
Clear air
little dust

broken buildings
left behind

they marry it today
children marry it

regular life
somewhere underneath
what is called rubble
polite term

bones of a city
open casket.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Goodbye My Shaniko

Mute tongues
Rafts are

dumb language



painted hills
round corners

tell me why
noontime crowds

into ears

petrified mud
magpie  wind

the same farm

knobby ridge

Saturday, September 5, 2015


Winter labors near
The salmon
Leaves whipping

love wears
A purple sweater
Out of nowhere

Wet Sage

Friday, September 4, 2015

Milk Street

Silt lining the pool
There's the river nearby
Some do not know
Which way
Is up

At the end
There are
Three strong taps
To the head

The net spinning round
Twisting still

Almost as large
As the men
Carrying them
By the gills
To the trees

Thursday, September 3, 2015

Twice As Quiet

Super moon wind down the canyon
All is well smoke dampened by rain
What did we learn here?  The school.
Walking the track after work before dinner
Tired anyway twenty-three the highest count
Quail along the fence an osprey making its way.
Now the kids are back, cars in the lot the river
Bigger than before with a quiet only heard twice.

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

Deschutes: River of Ghosts

Someday the river will be normal again.
Nothing holding it back not even Pelton.

Not even Lake Billy Chinook.
We are on our way for the last time.

Winter smells like October.  Paulina's murder.
The crew danced in a circle.  Whiskey.  Tequila.

It was time to leave after loud discussions.
All about the river.  Blue and green slipping.

The lines get tangled when I think of him straight.
Away it went when I was finishing.  Fears.  Doubts.

Then Fossil I hope we can squeeze that in.
Cottonwood Creek is next summer.