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Thursday, January 5

blue_aires_b

 in oil water
 she float head down
 for big bald eagle gulls
 to scream at
 by millions of dollars
 tied at both ends.

 the catch come in
 dirty little boats
 nothing to boast
few red fish to gut
men hammering
at encroaching rust

Tuesday, January 3

13____

hear delicacy
crying fry me
across the room
knives open
drawers undone
unwilling to close
to the dark of the tawny hue
frail in the slightest
gloom red floors woven
in wood the avenue of dread
the fingers that leak
paladians to fight past
midnights built bonfire walls
cold ice breaks stone
hot water scalds some
but as due is fresh
is done as when fish rest
eyes mouths unblinking in bed

Friday, December 30

on comet

the night sky quivers
the heat waves out of eyes
blurry Pleiades and Gemini
over deer over here
the golf course opens zones
roads to homes in ones
or anothers just some
red pine and prosperous porcupine
they all get what can't be mine

on donder

undoubted in a house
cold floors own the sounds
of foots lifted and lacking felt
dinosaurs labor in the basement
blood warm water bleed to death
soak hands head and chest
momentary relief
before the window steals the rest

on vixen

the feeling is lost
on a goose at the lake
feathers contact breaks ice edges
the winter tears that freeze
and drop on the sand
wind that bites ears
and doesn't hold hands

Friday, December 16

middle america

corn cut makes for lost stalks
old thoughts become ones bought
two into sum four into done
the heaven is apple plethora
presses deliver sparks out the register
forces inclement whether the weather
all gone or here for ever
there is the time its now or never

Tuesday, December 6

planetary gears


the lake grows west
as the vast waste
sags east
pushed by thoughts of pikes peak
the land is tired of pleats
mountains must grow today
but around tomorrow as herodotus said
down the drain the seaway paves
boatloads of earth float away
such is such and such

first snows

the snow stops
as goose tracks
walk back to the pond
where the water is warm
the ground is swamp
and the sounds of cars
 are drowned by damp

listen to the slush
it refuses to puddle
merely an illusion of plush
more squush
less squish
under shoe
insulated spoofs
of socks sog

Sunday, December 4

nonsense12

there was an owl in a hole
who amused the neighborhood vole
up there he would curse, over copious verse
and struggle to write barcarole

Saturday, December 3

nonsense11

A viscious old goose from south bay
grew tired of swimming all day
so he flew to the park and pooped up the yards
and the people sayd please go away