Hello Bart,

Can we see gated trees from this canyon? I don't like how their thoughts tower over us. We must find somewhere to roam. Jack waits with shivering shoulders.

yours, the hat and the shoe

--------------------------------------------

Of Someone I Never Knew
They weren't looking and the chieftain who'd been watching from afar snuck up behind them. He called out at the top of his lungs, "Bring me Mozart's Fifth!" Soon the caverns showed themselves, a shaggy dog in tights ruled the world, and my sister broke it down for me. She's such a bore, so I walked out and never saw her again.

-----------------------

Can't there be anyone out there?
There is so much (all this) in front of me
Surely there must be some small part
that could be dedicated to help
My insides may be visible now
They've spent far too much time
in this damp bleak soul
Is there somewhere I may ungather
my needless mess
dance to a music
A somewhere where
realizing is the perfection
realization is perfection
but only mine
and mine alone

--------------------------

Don't get lost going down broad street. It won't heed you any further or get ya any cleaner. My Mama mentioned this when I was very young. Other than that, all I remember is how she smiled when I brought home my report card and how she cried when her grandmother died. I tried my best to comfort her but didn't understand comfort or death. Still, we went on a family trip and I felt woozy, drowsy, tired. Sleep was dark, empty, useless. I awoke countless times trapped in a frozen body, finding it difficult to breath. I tried to be patient and really did give it my all but who could have known? At the big, rainy park I went fishing with Dad. It took a while but I finally caught a nice trout and promptly tossed it back in the water. It just floated....motionless. Sleeping....frozen. My brothers laughed. Everyone laughed. I looked away in disgust at what I had done. When I turned back it was gone. I felt very close to that fish right then and there.

----------------

Dear friend,
The gathering was nice. Your rubber band headdress took me by surprise.
I don't know if I'll ever lose that.
Later on I heard you scream in Spanish. Not so sure I can lose that either.
We sat together for a while. Know I won't lose that.
I really hate goodbyes and I certainly don't know how to lose that.
yours,
the Onion

p.s. I don't know how else to say what I am trying to say.

--------------------------------

I kept my wilderness company. There was a time when she was keen on the idea.
I think I could tell. Leaves flourished and the rainy season was nigh. The sun shone in places we walked. There was happiness, especially when I first tried out my new overhalls. Spilling in and out of the crowds, feeling hopeful as we crossed the bridge, looking to the oncoming dusk.

But as we reach the other side things have changed. Did I speak? I turn and we patter on in silence, sideways glancing, pretending to be strangers. At the next corner we need not say anything though our paths still seem similar. Neither of us leads. It begins to rain. Perhaps we should speak up, figure something out, but we don't. By the next corner the floods are coming on. Where are we going anyway? It seems unclear and with these high waters it's becoming difficult to stay together. I think I can see her over near the bell tower now. I decide to shout out but don't think she can make out the words.

At some point the rain stops and the waters begin to subside. I'm not sure where I am but I guess I'll make the best of it.
Days wandering, hoping for former glimpses, days wandering...

Time passes, long and true, and eventually I see my wilderness again. Perhaps she'd been there all along, I just couldn't recognize her. Occasionally we'll take a walk, maybe cross back over that bridge, but something is strange. It doesn't look much like it used to.


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goodbye city. goodbye roads of thistle.
goodbye my home. goodbye friends, compatriots, companions of noise in blanketed sound.
....lifting through the clouds now
covering that city.

-----------------------------------------------------

collapsing keeps us warm
the pedal people swarm
between the blankets torn

the winds so briefly dangle
and the nightingale entangled
leaves here a chilled reply

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Department of Train Tracks, Next Right
There's alot to be said for meaningful time spent glancing over a foreign newspaper but I'm not one to get intricate or intimate with the matter. My hair is waving at my face and my lids block the viewpoint. Not that I wouldn't take advantage of even one very small opening. Still, my mind wanders and gets itself into trouble believing in a future that will never come. It truly is a mystery. Can I maintain something of this sort? Will old demons arouse themselves? Dusty old alarm clocks....filthy beasts untamed. A real harmony seems obvious but it is easy to get the wrong idea. I seem to be a fan of these (wrong ideas). The lesson has been learned and patience will surely prove the wiser. Look, even the newspaper is starting to help. Little signs here and there, AM radio urging me on. Stop looking to the side.

------------------

Our situation seemed useful. My poet drank the soup and the 747 arrived with a spectacular crash landing. Upon departure the pilot claimed a fortune beyond the stars. "I did it all for you," he said, blinking quite quickly. Then he stepped up on the platform, recalled his past, failed performances, thanked his wife and children, and disappeared into the crowd. Some track star in the 3rd row followed with a speech about the blasphemy of it all, eventually digging into the lady next to him. She wore a beautifully patterned hat. The kind of hat you think about when you're on those last few breaths of seafaring air. The coast is coming on and you feel ready for a midnight swim. Good luck!