sorry, no autumn this year —
earth didn’t pay the subscription fee
after the free trial of summer ended
curmudgeonesque
Talons
Owls are hunters
Humans are mechanical separators —
separating by metal machines
meat from bones
life from death
fat from essence —
but in Nature, where Man used to come from
a long time ago — remember it? —
none of those things is separable.
BRAIN from SENSE
Killing nature
the wilderness died
of a broken heart —
from bad decisions and
evil battles of grown men
blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005
Wilted
The past falls away in wilted petals,
New things will come, probably nettles.
End of the race
drivers of “progress”
steering us toward a cliff
at capital velocity
Seeing $tars
Star!
Nope, rocket.
Star?
Nope, police helicopter.
Star!
Nope, corporate satellite.
Star?
Nope, airplane.
Humanity in roads
When I’m out and about, people are annoying idiots. When I’m home alone, all mankind is loving and good.
Aaahhhhh!
The only thing I want
a subscription to
is the winter chill and
an evening view of Venus
and those are totally free!
The only thing I want
to pop up in my face
is a beautiful flower
in springtime bloom
and that, by the way
never gets in my way.
I just want to read a recipe
not look at a baker’s dozen
hyperenormous photographs
and read a culinary novel
so now please can I cook?
I don’t need to know
the fifteen best this
or 36 surprising thats
it’s free (with purchase)
but hurry, only 2 left!
Bah, no thanks. Is there
an app to make it all stop?
I’m not made of attention
time nor clicks nor money
so I am logging myself off
from the world to walk to
the grassy park with a book
and enjoy a nice simple day.
CBT
but the science bears out
my catastrophic thinking
Fluctuations
The world constantly sways me between poet and malcontent.
Slam–bang
there is a big hospital nearby
there are several, fairly nearby
fortunately, I don’t need one
right now —
but I’m grateful to be close to them,
that they’re close to me, just in case
so are the firefighters
and the grocery stores
and post offices
and best of all, libraries!
and
a whole lot of people —
for better or worse
all because I live in a big city
it’s convenient —
and it’s annoying
It’s 4:47 a.m.
three hours ago, the windows vibrated
under a circling police helicopter
a few minutes ago
the clattering A/C
that needs to be fixed
jolted me awake
I dozed back off —
this time it was a stray cat
there are so many of them;
I know them all by name —
Old Lived-In Orange Tom
Marked-Ear Kitten Gone Fat
Dirty-White Tuxedo Guy —
some of them like to jump up
on the sill, be loud, cause trouble
this morning, interrupting my dream,
it was Scraggly White Gray-Heart-Nose
yowling, prowling, howling, meowing
That’s it! just can’t get back to sleep
may as well get up, even though I’ve only
had maybe 5 hours — five disturbed hours.
it’s still dark out, and for the first time
in several months it’s noticeably cooler
outside than inside, even with the air on
and the just-past-full moon is up
she’s bright and snuggling with Mars —
Venus, Sirius, Orion, all shining for everyone
and for no one in particular
I step out of my front door, lock it,
and am not even out of my own driveway
before a car speeds by, knocking me over
with its noxious old-car gas fumes
and buck-the-system black exhaust
I look up at the sky, what I can see of it —
nearly every house has bright lights on
shining directly into my eyes, and the
street lights — piercing, glaring, persistent
I’ve made it almost next door
someone is out smoking, I can’t see them
but I smell the strong nasty smoke
and cover my nose with the COVID mask
from my pocket — odd, in my youth
I used to love breathing in the scent
of cigarette smoke — thought it was sexy
now it chokes, it offends, it irks
onto the next block, another smoker,
invisible too — do tobacco lovers hide
in the shadows on purpose?
my grandmother used to do that;
after she told everyone that she quit
we accidentally caught her smoking
on the dark side of the house, but
we didn’t let on — it’s hard to let go of
our addictions — shadows let us hold on
second house in on the second block
a big way-louder-than-legal motorcycle
leaving its driveway, its rider doesn’t see me;
I stand aside and wait as it roars out & away
it’s not even freakin’ 5 a.m., folks. on Saturday!
I came out here for quiet, fresh air, skygazing,
a pleasant walk in cool early-morning “solitude”
but the air stinks, there are so many lights —
oh, and did I not mention all the irritating
sensor lights that pop on unexpectedly
into my face, just when I think I’ve found
a nice dark-house reprieve — bam! — they’re like
the damn ads and email newsletter pleadings
on nearly every modern web site —
catching you unawares, blocking the
entire screen, at the cursor’s slightest
sign of movement — blinding us
like all the sensor lights, blocking
our enjoyment of whatever else it is
that we were trying to do
third house in, second block
the rooster. someone’s backyard city-rooster:
I look at my watch, a 5:00 crow on the dot.
I try to stop being annoyed
try hard to focus on the positive
try to figure out which dim little star
is above Venus, it must be one in Leo —
that’s my husband’s sign
my husband, still sleeping. heavy sleeper.
sleeping 8–9 hours straight through
nearly every night, it’s his superpower
I kinda hate him for it —
if I get more than 5 to 6 hours, and
waking several times at that, it’s a
miracle. light, light sleeper, I am.
I want to sleep, I try to sleep. I can’t.
my husband, who even though he’s sleeping
I already know exactly what he would say
about my quandary, my HSP city annoyances:
— Sleep in later.
— Just stay indoors.
— Join a gym and walk on the treadmill.
he just doesn’t get it. never has.
Flash! another sensor light in my face —
Screw it. for the first time ever,
I’ve given up on my morning walk.
it’s only been a few minutes
and the weather is gorgeous!
but I am going back inside.
How can people live like this?
with so much constant noise
and so many bright obscuring lights
and so damned much artificial stink
heading back around the corner to my house, I hear
the mini-siren warning bloop of a mile-away ambulance —
did I mention that I live close to a hospital?
Weather reports 2023
PHOENIX, ARIZONA
* * *
JULY 19
july the nineteenth
overnight low temp
of ninety-seven degrees
* * *
OCTOBER 19
october nineteenth
one hundred and three degrees
climate change is hoax
* * *
NOVEMBER 6
day before winter
ninety-three degrees
summer-autumn in phoenix
* * *
NOVEMBER 8
dear gods of weather —
will it ever rain again
in bone-dry phoenix?
* * *
NOVEMBER 14
now a week into winter
high: eighty-eight F degrees
that’s not fahrenheit
* * *
NOVEMBER 18
i begged & pleaded
for rain but now bemoaning
winter mosquitoes
* * *
DECEMBER 6
really, december:
high of eighty-two degrees?
oh no you didn’t!
* * *
DECEMBER 21
on midwinter day
seventy-seven degrees
a sunburned solstice
* * *