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Some of my poems for you. Subscribers receive others in my monthly newsletter.
Warning for Those Visiting the Grand Canyon
Standing between me and the canyon rim
a woman in a jogging suit tells her child:
"Don't go too near those people, they may have a disease."
She knows a plague of Mexicans when she sees one, apparently,
but says nothing about the abyss along which her child now runs.
How thirsty the child’s bones would be
drying at the bottom of the canyon,
precisely like the bones of dinosaurs
buried in the thousands of colored layers of stone.
The mother sips bottled water to keep the germs away.
Someone should tell her the water contains bacteria like she has never seen.
The cussed little fellows don’t stay put very well.
Oh, and some of the same water evaporated from the sweaty palms of a mass shooter,
and some from the spit of small boys hitting cars from an overpass,
and some from the King of England's cup of tea.
She’s still got her eye on the Mexicans though. Continue Reading...
East Elk Creek
Blessing is a rugged horizon—
a tangle of cliffs and Hogback
ridge bending in the wind
stretching the counties you can see—
eagle hiking the updraft above
creek scrambling over rocks below
canyon climbing 300 million years deep
butterfly sitting on a stem of grass
just taking it all in
Sun swings on the berry bushes
dives after trout in the creek
leaps at our eyes
running like tiny lizards across the rocks
where the cottonwoods and wind dance close together
scree, ravens, and drying elk bones
argue who owns the abandoned gold mine
about like countries fight over such things