Monthly Archives: July 2012

Life Gun

Living on safety?
Take it off safety.

–Burl Whitman


five cats in the road
two fucking, three witnessing
all testifying

Rush Hour

A girl panhandling on a traffic island
standing behind a cardboard sign.

My motorcycle slivers the world beside her–
seconds, days, who knows.

Her odd orange horizontal striped dress.

An old green van in front of me
heading under the bridge.

Behind the cardboard sign,
standing in the dress
is a veteran,
a double amputee,
remounted now
on aluminum and rubber.

The green van steps
backwards in time
to avoid something undesired.

Metal on pavement
like a trash can full of gravel
thrown from a truck.

The road stands up and skids sideways
against my helmet.

A blond woman from the UK
behind white glasses,
mouth moving kindly.

The rubble arched concrete railing
leading down to the bridge
and the men who built it.

Tree leaves stippling the sky overhead

The close kindness of strangers.

The afternoon sun waiting
in the perfumed Ponderosa pines
behind the mountains.

Still Life with Instruments


The sacred labor of grandfathers
turns to old coins

in the garages
of grocers.

Hard Lesson

salmon, artichokes,
scotch and Hydro-c: best friends
motorcycle down

–Burl Whitman


Software does not plane clean like walnut or steel-harden like ash.

Tuesday went missing this week. If it happens again, I’m notifying the authorities.

Picking raspberries from the far side if the bush strengthens character.

Old bluesmen are sexier than young ones.

If you own a new breed of dog called a golden doodle, you better have a good reason.

Soul singers hold the universe together and drink like sailors on shore leave.

Lives have a way of passing so close to the window and so far from the door.