Yellowstone Picnic

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On occasion I am

granted

 

glimpses through my

clever fog

 

Teenage sons, all limbs and

watchful

 

Golden woman, just so

in her skin

 

I shan’t strain to see

bluer skies

 

The gods are here

Right now

Teacher

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The Teacher says

 

You’ll know when to step up

read the signs.

 

Doesn’t he know I need to keep hidden?

 

It’s a habit, invisibility,

a useful one

Except when the call comes

 

The Teacher says,

Walk through the fear.

 

I don’t have that skill.

 

But what if it’s what I’m born to do?

The next thing that

leads to the next, and so on.

 

Then he says,

Failure is inevitable

 

Are you beginning to get the picture?

 

One’s fate isn’t like building a deck

or buying a car.

Specific advice just won’t do.

 

Lau Tzu, the Tao te Ching guy,

He had the knack.

It is what it is, he might say today.

 

But it probably isn’t.

September

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September

 

Scritch of crickets

outside my window

 

When did that all start?

 

I’ve been busy

scratching mosquito

bites into wounds,

picking the scabs

 

Look at the ceiling,

water stained from the

upstairs bath!

 

How to soothe this

itchy masochism?

 

The salve is beyond my

skull-walled house, in the

cricket static of a

September dawn.

 

I must go out there!

My Black Cat

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My Black Cat

 

wants to climb on my lap

but I want him beside me

he has a strong odor

not clean and tidy

like most cats I’ve had

Some days I let him up

to scratch his face

His head smells like

the head of an animal

Found as a kitten

motherless

in an alley

he was never taught

the grooming trick

to lick his paw

wipe his head