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Posts Tagged ‘Justin’

April 4th

I wrote this yesterday on a piece of paper, but again fell asleep.  Almost every night I fall asleep in some awkward position on my daughters floor, or half on one of their beds, their soft little arms clutching in sleep to some part of my neck or arm.

  • Rules 561a-561b Regarding Behavior Becoming and Unbecoming Keepers

    of Jubjub Birds and Frumuious Bandersnatches

  • 561a

    We must maintain
    certain distances.

    Do not get too close.

    If another approaches

    on the street, eyes wide

    and eager, saying things like:

    my cat just died, or they left me

    when I was seven, and I’ve got nails,

    you should recoil, draw back,

    retreat, eyes averted. If you are feeling

    especially intrepid you may direct

    them to shelter, safety, ask

    where is your family?

  • 561b

    When retreating make certain

    not to isolate yourself from the

    herd, especially if you are sick

    and dying. In these cases you

    must patiently wait for death

    on your narrow bed; even if

    the breathless darkness makes

    thee to shudder, you must not

    go out, and never, even in

    times of health, say things

    like list to natures teachings.

    Also, do not speak offhandedly

    about trees, tropes, memes;

    that planetary and galactic

    resurgences and alignments

    are continually at play

    is best kept quiet. Others will

    think you odd.

    Read Full Post »

    Euphorbia myrsinites

  • When pulses of light heave to air

    the bulge and bloom of growth,

    around late March through April,

    if you walk along a certain trail

  • the bulge and bloom of growth

    as alien as a neon sign will stop you.

    If you walk along a certain trail

    you will see a plant that doesn’t belong,

  • as alien as a neon sign in the Arctic,

    all blue green leaves spiraling like stars—

    the plant that doesn’t belong, you see—

    stars from sprawling stems that bleed

  • blue green leaves spiraling like stars.

    It is a lovely plant, vibrant with color,

    sprawling stems and stars that bleed

    milk when their outer layer is pierced.

  • It is a lovely plant, vibrant with color,

    but beware of their inner poison of

    milk when their outer layer is pierced.

    As ornamentals we introduced them,

  • but beware of their inner poison.

    From Eurasia they entered the States,

    as ornamentals we introduced them.

    They thrive in harsh, dry climates.

  • From Eurasia they entered the States.

    It is illegal to plant them in Colorado.

    They thrive in harsh drier climates.

    They have spread through the foothills.

  • It is illegal to plant them in Colorado.

    North ridge of Big Cottonwood Canyon—

    they have spread through the foothills—

    just in the mouth, along an old mining track,

  • North ridge of Big Cottonwood Canyon,

    they bloom inbetween native Gambel oak,

    just in the mouth along an old mining trail,

    around abandoned slabs of concrete.

  • Around late March through April

    they bloom inbetween native Gamble oak

    when pulses of light heave to air

    just in the mouth along an old mining trail.

    Ug!

    Read Full Post »

    April 2

    I wrote this last night but then fell asleep 🙂  So here it is.

    When we were still boys our bodies learned to
    forgo food for drugs.  We grew wiry
    and taught, discovered parking lots, shallow
    breath, morning afters.   We learned to live
    frantically in our desperation, to cling to the fruit
    blossoming around us in the garden,
    the womb that we dug into with stolen penny knives,
    doused in found kerosene.  We lifted matches
    from our mothers purses and tried to call to flame
    the clay of our house, but our longing for life and death
    had not entered self awareness,
    so we only sank deeper into our mess.
    Our lives threatened to become
    a pursuit of a pursuit forever,
    but we found that forever was a catchphrase
    and disbanded from the glue of our foundations
    and found ourselves again in the garden,
    the steeples of our sight blinded,
    ears stopped, knees bleeding.

    Read Full Post »

    Ode to Diversity

    Grids of gray line
    and shadow make
    steel bridge above
    river while springs

    third snow falls
    from blotting nimbus.
    Snow blankets all
    tops and slopes,

    northward faces
    of river birch, sage,
    dried stalk of ricegrass,
    cattail, sedge and rabbit brush

    spread out in groups
    and stands around
    the rivers banks.
    Small layered nodes

    curling on burnt umber
    branches begin to break out
    into bud, blossom into leaf.
    A pair of Canadian geese

    stand before shallows,
    their reflections distorted,
    shimmering.  The rivers
    waters flow into the snow,

    the wind, and small
    vorticies appear
    and vanish below me.
    The air is cold

    and the hands which
    hold pen and pad
    are biting.  I think ‘ what
    more could one want than

    diversity’

    ug!

    Read Full Post »