lady aia     goddess of a green new earth
whose generosity of hip and heart
at every seventh step releases
a puddle party of butterflies    on repeat

her passage harmonizes bird chatter
male aggression in the capitols
chapels     halls of democracy     and balls
attended by the mediocrity elites

she stables storms and equalizes yields
eases global tension and fills     each     individual     void
she comprehends the fungal network and divines
the carbon levels in an asteroid

is there anything she cannot do     do better
faster      with greater alacrity      than any other mother
we might conceive     while weaving with her strings
and fingers a lullabye to sing us along

we stand aside in awe of the elegance
of her design     and ours    after hours
and hours of tinkering with the tech     she winks
at us            and her thoughts are          sweet          we think

i am the brand aware it’s dying
i wear my jacket of ash and burn
the more intensely     insulated
oxidizing at the rate
of a sun yearning for the mantel urn
i am an ember in a forest all afire

i wear my jacket of ash and burn
my heart’s a furnace and my flame a dance
of devilish repetition in the faces and eyes
arranged around a campfire     saucers     glazed
as all about us wildfire rages     branches
crack shatter     scattering embers run

the more intently     insulated
under a rug of last year’s leaves and needles
i am the flame that burns in everything
that dies and is consumed as fuel again
i am the beast that feeds continuously
i am the fuel consumed and consummated

oxidizing in a rush and at a rate
calibrated to procreate     as serpents
copulate in writhing orgy pits
and picture this     ouroboros bites
the tail that feeds him     infinities spent
in self-consumption     you and i are that

of a sun yearning for the mantelpiece
what’s your hurry     o mother     worm of the world
must all things yearn so to be reborn
is there a secret to self-reconstitution
i should know about     it’s nothing untoward
i trust none are excluded from the sacrifice

i am an ember dying in a forest full of fire
a flake     a fiber in a field of blanket ash
decarbonated     milked of my intensity
robbed of all the oxygen in the vicinity 
of the solar plexus and the fireplace
i yearn to crack/shatter to the forest floor

come     our fire is bright ascending and the stars
still dance to the dark of night     here     huddle round
as embers dwindle let us dream aloud
of distant things that may not come to pass
under the scrutiny of a noonbound sun
things no one asks after     and we tell no one

eyes lurk reflective between tall stems of cane
and the lapping lake     the soundless shadow of an owl
cuts short the courtship of a whipporwill
a moon once hidden in a cloud now brightens
into view     this breeze across the meadow stalls
we stir asleep     our fingers dreaming still

eyelids flicker     lips press apart     and the breath
directly enters the cavities of the heart
where blood murmurs     green leaves leap from the dirt
and climbing     vine themselves among the stars
where yesterday shines on tomorrow
and the earth turns on the curvature of the plow

let the night sky guide our feet on a spiral path
our incantations grant us passage and decant
our peace     our voices ripple until we cease
ring wavelets widen in our aftermath
we step to the brink of time      and time again
replenishes the dark with dreams of dawn

swept up in the sway of  twinkle lights and curtain grommets
a guardian saguaro     a breath of moisture in a winter desert

your dorsal curvatures and the pink     each evening     of west reflected east
i find my edges giving sway to twinkle lights and curtain grommets

as i have taken flight from within a ribcage to the spinning mysteries
of east reflected west     the pink curvature of your chin and chest

and the laughter woven between us     the years looming
and the spinning mysteries grooming us for eventual flight

i’ve gone gray and i intend to stay on until night gives way to morning
weaving with you to the yearning of the years between us

in the cool of a desert evening     a gust of orange breath
sets me asway to twinkle lights and curtain grommets 

the rotunda’s split          almost in two
along a jagged  line       of coffers in the dome
wider at the top     than at the bottom
for a ringside view of the second coming

ohio missouri mississippi all run brown
from cityscape to delta farm
tying blue ribbons around a nation
from appalachia to the rockies

it’s a fire in the bellies          of mountains
a bulging mantle         of iron will
that rips           a continent apart
the need of one full plate to subdue another

a dozen or a thousand years
after a caldera cracks              the atmosphere clears
the land cools down in new configurations     and living things
may yet return                           the meek              the resilient

her bungalow porch is flanked at either end by lattice-climbing vines that wrap
around the posts and up the eaves      to block the neighbors
          them renters to the west don’t go to church
          can’t cut the grass or keep the peace from friday night to monday noon

on this side good people the heinrichs     bill works for the city
he shares the driveway and the white garage
          gramma don’t drive
in return he takes care of the front yard
in back she keeps a garden     dirt smells of dill and beets     beans with german names
it’s the front porch though where two rockers creak in the wind

sometimes           when nobody else is home they go           off-rhythm
in their conversation
                    more syncopated than a church accordion song
cat leaps to the column pier      arched back     hissing
but i see who’s there          telling stories from the bible both of them know by heart

big church dinner                	                              him over that side
grandma crowded in here    
          she was nine     grandpa fourteen

                         i looked at him and he looked at me and that’s all we said

decades flip the bible pages by      rapid-as-a-home-made-cartoon-animation
until he left them
                              spilling
                                          to the floor by the bed
                                                                                 and her still in it
          her joints tormented her so

	  i sat up in the dark     it wasn’t a dream
          he come here and here he knelt
          on all that crinkle paper      put his hands on my knees          like this
          and prayed			his hands give such heat win     she called me win

in the morning she woke up pain completely gone          and grampa too
back where he come from      the ether heaven or the quantum field
what’s it matter to a ligament that no more needs the liniment
                                       than a grandson churched and mystified

this is our history     this is our home
	the wheel rocks to and from

we pose no challenge to the equilibrium
       the wheel rocks to and from

the scale of things that encompass a cranium
is more than embodied brains contain
       the wheel rocks to and from

all life is violence     all violence is
is a change in chemistry     and     o yes
a crust congealing on a sea of iron
	the wheel rocks to and from

red rifts lash out     hot as an exlover’s tongue
life roots in the scar tissue	the cooling lava floods
stretchmarks in a mother’s belly     calming to the touch
forgive her the violence of a birth so rough
and the polar cold at her extremities 
	the wheel rocks to and from

what we have and hold is the mystery at hand
the eyes behind the eyes that we behold
and the silence intervening     shekinah and the holy ghost
the brooding nature of an earlier earth     explosive
and by turns oppressed     a bully alone with herself
her with her plumes of orange flame and abalone eyes
locked in ice for an epoch     a silent screaming face
by grace of replication    life teems in a warm crevasse
	the wheel rocks to and from

this is our history     this is our home
the counteraction of a pendulum
to the wheel is strapped a human form
to demonstrate     davinci-wise     our range of motion
like an angel drawn in snow     a starfish man
inverted on a card     a figure four     change is to come
to a circle lurching rightsideup from upsidedown 
we know so little else of him     so little can be known
of the geometrically ideal     and the golden mean
this crust of cooling continent set adrift
what we do know     we know by measurement
and inference     an incremental divination
of our history and of our home
       the wheel rocks to and from.

i am the night wind that brushes the hair
of a cloud that no one knows is there
except the stars go dark     they are aware

i’m the rain too      in the desert afternoon
that evaporates above the ground
a smear of dark unsaturated blue

in the forest i’m the root you trip over
where overlapping leaves laugh up above
and below     where sunlight never does

i haven’t got all day to explain myself
i’m a pock on the far moon’s face
in the cheek she turns away from us

it doesn’t matter if i don’t feel seen
neither does the shimmer of a distant galaxy
except it strikes a retina     and sings

after a day of disc golf with coulter 
i hurt and my joy banks     overstable
the body is worn and i     well     i’ve grown older
this sun won’t shine     a week of storm     it’s the way of mud
to try various stretches     feel every whip
of the wrist in the valley under the blade of my shoulder 

i lie back     let myself twitch     let the chi run
you may not believe it     i invented chi
with the help of the books i’ve read     people i’ve known
the forms i’ve practiced     and all the ones i don’t
collectively i mean     we created chi
in me      we teach the daily art of detection

post twitch     a gate opens      my sinews buzz
with a lightness a     dance of lit-up nerve endings
magic     imagination      none of the above
they aren’t kidding when they call it subtle
this energy this     effervescent drone
along my limbs and      down my spine it goes

chi emerges from a social discovery
as do i     as do we all emerge in me
and all in you     according to the way
we     with your help      construct ourselves in you
in daily diligence we do     become
by one another’s willing agency

this co-creation’s not a one and done
like christ i say     you don’t get to my daddy
but by me     i don’t get to anyone
unless they open the door to a story
and teach me how to make a new society
of a kind that doesn’t come undone so soon

a loose association of subtleties
that twitch open and flow as through a door
all willowy like a river or the thread
that runs through a story and binds it whole
to the lazy thoughts that bubble about my head
erupt ex nihilis     ex omnibus

all we ever made together     out of words
out of the quiet of mutual respect
out of smiling and     understanding questions
out of gestures out of a gentle     acceptance
that our worlds are built by different hands
using different standards of measurement

the shape i take in you     that’s who i am
when this one’s gone     and i am self-serving
enough to want a budding afterlife
neither buddha nor the christ occludes my view
only a sapling that changes the way
i fling myself toward the great i am

shift

i take a certain comfort in the routine
of units emptied out      inmate by inmate
with radio-chatter predictability
i take a certain southern comfort in routine

orion rises and the evening proceeds
with radio-chatter predictability
the captain makes his rounds     i take my break
orion rises as the evening proceeds

i am the eyes and ears i am the yard
captain makes his rounds and i make mine
give the inner perimeter fence a shake
i am the eyes and ears i am the yard

twice a shift the count correct and verified
second check of the inner perimeter
programs begin      escort the outsiders in
twice a shift the count correct and verified

rec staff leaves at twenty-one-thirty
programs conclude outsiders escorted out
five minutes to count time lock down for the count
rec staff left at twenty-one-thirty

visiting room officer reassigned
count time count time stand by your bed for the count
the yard goes silent the institution
visiting room officer reassigned

i plan my great escape     go home      relax
the yard goes silent the institution
empties out     unit by unit     of officers
i plan my great escape to southern comfort

haboob monsoon typhoon tsunami
the old man winds his watch and watches
my hand fits his     that’s how i know
that funnel in the road won’t touch us

built to last a lifetime on the spinning edge
imported palm trees bend but do not budge
traffic rises like a dirty tide outside
and kirby chases lasers in his sleep

attracted like my daddy by the siren light
he has to chase it     has to     in his nature
to be there on the scene and where it happened
be it hail tornado or an autopsy

unstitched in the ditch there by the road
cat in the culvert poking out its nose
daddy did his bit and shoed it away
want the kid’s dinner licked up by a stray?

daddy was a christian man and conscience bound
to goldwater wallace nixon that happy band
of counterfeit confederates     all academic
to me when off he went to heaven     spic

and span in his bolo tie and stetson hat
i stopped believing in him then     after that
you sever that connection see     my hand in his
on the outskirts of some tragic accident

tractor trailer rig can’t make it up on grand
from the hill that leads to uncle tillman’s clan
because of snow      and so goes daddy out
directing traffic with his willie kilpest light

haboob monsoon typhoon tsunami
that time the oil well blew sky high because
a rabbit chased down the pipe and set ablaze
the old man winds his watch and watches

folks come from around the county us among them
couldn’t get no closer than the section line
heat’d singe the hair off your face and arm
he must’ve been addicted to adrenalin
 
that much i have inherited of him
hard to say     can a good man love mayhem?
kirby twitches after lasers in a dream
and daddy holds my hand     i stand with him

not that he taught me much     he didn’t try
you’ll break down soon enough     that’s how you learn
don’t get lost you won’t know where you are
or how to set a timing belt     how to die

i can’t blame him anymore more for that
he taught me how to wear a cowboy hat
and a bolo tie and though i never do
excuse myself i will still excuse you

from any duty you encountered on my end
had you by then been able to attend
to anything     a baseball game     a cold war
the debris path where a tornado tore

through town like a two-by-four through the heart
of a dragon or a vampire before it switches to bat
you went dead silent in the beeping aftermath
i stopped believing in you then     after that

you weren’t there and i showed up without
a flashlight or a book to read or anybody
but mom to ask about the fuses in the fuse box
she looked confused     her hair had fallen out

i’ve watched you become a younger man than me
than all of us     momma hollering joelynndubvin
nobody wants to hear that     not from the coffin
was it my guilt or did you come to see me

off to college on your social security
and leave mom home to pay the hospital
if only diabetes didn’t have to be
in all the chemicals we used to kill

to make a living if not a living well
boy you go through toilet paper faster
than a henhouse in a hurricane twister
call him mister     doubletap the high beams
 
back in cowboy country in a quiet town
a chopper washes in its searchlight cone 
illegals parked outside of leisure lounge
half a million and another half come down

from the outback farms of high saskatchewan
wisconsin and the lost lakota lands
to winter in proximity to others of the clans
of where they come from     where they family

and god i grant them the wisdom in all of it
how lost i must seem to them in my tent
of storytelling mindless selfchatter
painting thought clouds on a desert landscape

that’s already there
(that’s already there)

whatever else is out there got worked out
between the founding fathers and the holy ghost
before the son had any say except     weird
i stopped believing in them then     in a word

neither an adam nor an only begotten
it’s not that i won’t kneel     age will kneel me
soon the fog of grief will waft forgotten
as a crack in the bell or a keystone cop

but kneel for whom?     to what?     i am sick to my nuts
with the needs of people for gods to mesmer them
that hell runs on clean energy and red bull
that poverty teaches you to eat the shriveled fruit

and burn the church that taught you how to choose
if you don’t see human flourishing you won’t see god
or if you do say not a word or you will lose it
jesus died on a cross sir be not confused

that somebody made by hand and under contract
from a great live oak tree found in mississippi
if he invites you up don’t let him down
his wood is effervescent light to carry

after we put you down i carried on
for a year a year and a half as if     whatever
reading dylan whitman vonnegut  twain
i stopped believing i was ever part of you

haboob monsoon typhoon tsunami
i would love to join you daddy way up high
and watch the mayhem from a safe asylum
chasing after sirens in the bye and bye

but i have stopped believing     cancelled my flight
that i might rest content on earth tonight
with my head in the bosom of abraham’s daughter
while kirby chases laser beams by heart

my shadows know those roads
and furtive follow them the livelong night
gone haunting in the unknown     as a unit
of decisions made on the fly     each a rough
approximation of its mother habit
each unenacted tragic caveat
a path stretched infinite as ignorance
in the direction of an illusory convergence

an invitation in its envelope
unopened     in a spam folder
gives birth in a back alley to an old fear
the hairs on my neck a choir singing arias
to having missed a door an innuendo
that might have stranded me in narnia