“They’re eating the dogs…they’re eating the cats…they’re eating the pets of the people that live there.” Donald Trump, of Haitian immigrants in Springfield, Ohio

it is said that there is more than one way to skin a cat/but if you are hungry and possessed of a box cutter/you will probably opt for the reverse ziplock method

or you would if you did but you don’t so you won’t/since you don’t eat cats nor dogs/but instead have been lied about/by the man who called your former country/a “shithole nation”

but you can have fun if you have culinary skills/you can whip up whipping cream and sugar and pomegranate and put it in a pastry tube/and sculpt little kittens and call them “the cat’s me-yow”

or add a bit of venison to your ground beef and onion with ketchup glaze and serve up some steaming “mutt loaf”

but whatever you do, vote legally and blue

voting red is just too…carnivorous

My dentist is two long bus rides away/And yet I’ll never seek someone who’s nearer/His crew is really good, with sense of play/And camaraderie like fun house mirror.

When AI rears its pretty head and asks/If it may kindly finish the next sentence/I turn it down and home-grow my own tasks/And wish AI would back off in repentance.

I walk to get my groceries, fetch water/With jugs recycled, using a dispenser/At fifty cents a gallon, though it’s hotter/To carry than to drive. I am a fencer

Who swordplays with Convenience. As long

As I continue this, I will be Strong.

Ceramic cup on the left was made this month.

high-protein, low carb, says my muse/in massachusetts, and approves./the birds i made/are indifferent, being inanimate. one/needs a prosthesis or two/since her beak was lost in the kiln fire.

coffee/sipped from a cup made three weeks ago/with my own hands and mind/kona, classic black/fills my spirit.

fifty-eight years ago today/I was in an operating room at st. joseph’s hospital/with a doctor reaching into my nose/and excising with his instrument/a gaggle of nasal polyps/of various sizes

then the doc jammed a yard/of packing material into my nasal cavity/to staunch bleeding

and the removal of that packing/produced the most intense pain i have ever felt/to this day

and second place goes/to when dr. frerichs in a subsequent visit/again reached into my nose/to pluck out developing scabs/to minimize scar tissue

and a distant third is the time/i tore off most of the skin of my left big toe/in a bike accident/when i was barefoot

but back to that scar tissue/minimized or not it and more polyps/have appeared in two mris/done five years apart/in my right sphenoid sinus

and that that region is unchanged/in five years/is great news

and I love the word “sphenoid”/so i am overall good/with my nose now

choose well your opponent my friend/especially those with whom you cannot win/age and injustice and mindlessness for instance

and do be a friendly opponent/when challenged to a competition or other game/and let courtesy and goodwill flavor your efforts

your ultimate opponent is your dark self/and worse than laziness or other neglect/worse than weight gain or other addictive earmarks/is the scornful dislike of self/that comes with the self-scolding and self-rage and self-flagellation

those behaviors just keep you where you don’t want to be/and dig more deep the hole/you wish to escape

but when you laugh at realized absurdities/when you realize that massaging a problem works more effectively than tackling it/and that sometimes cooperation and not opposition will yield success/a burden will lift/and heaviness lighten

lightning might be spectacular/but lightening can be even more so though less dazzling

and enlightenment/ah enlightenment/dissolves chains

one bristle cannot/sweep worth a darn. teamwork and/elbow grease succeed.

a new broom sweeps clean/a middle-aged broom struggles/old brooms look nasty

when the floor is wet/a painterly sweep pattern/becomes visible.

groomed broom vacuum doom/particulate settlements/of dust and°or/skin

hey Gramps–how do birds fly?

well, watch em, Tim. they flap their wings, and when they do, they grab some air and push it down, so they go up.

okay, then, how do planes fly? their wings don’t flap…

Tim, the planes have wings that are curved on the top side and flat underneath. so the air over the wing, when the plane is going fast, goes faster than the air underneath. but it’s the same amount of air, just stretched, and so the air pressure above the wing is less, so the plane is sucked upward.

then how do rockets fly? they don’t have any wings at all.

you ask good questions, kid. well, rockets have these little rooms called fuel chambers. and the stuff in the chambers is lit up and when it burns it expands and goes out these things called thrusters and the tops of the chambers get pushed hard, just like if you pooted hard enough it would lift you out of the chair.

(Gramps and Tim giggle and then laugh)

(They hear the yelling of Tim’s parents having an argument on the other side of the house and they stop laughing)

Gramps, Mama is talking about leaving Daddy.

i know, son. (Gramps puts an arm around Tim)

why do they fight all the time?

well, Tim, i don’t know for sure, but i think part of it is your dad has a mean boss and then when he comes home from work he takes it out on your mom. and your mom wants to get out more and do.more with her life but your dad doesn’t want her to. so it’s a lot like that rocket and that plane and that bird. A lot of pushing and pulling. a lot of…

pressure?

yeah, Tim. smart grandson i have here.

(pause)

hey, Grandpa, you okay?

while I wait for the 3:58
am bus
two souls
who have made of the bus stop
a campsite
sleep unsnoringly
in the cool predawn

one looks like a ghost
after a grueling halloween gig
one looks like a shopper
with a cartful of artifacts

the bus pulls up and i get on
i get on with my steady-jobbed life
but i realize that i am camping too
on a different designated area
of campsite earth

and that we only decamp
when we die

i make my home in metropolitan phoenix, arizona/also known as the valley of the sun

one day i flew home from boulder, colorado,/which was lush and green/and it struck me that by comparison/phoenix was like the bottom of an ashtray

you will find green on some golf courses/and some lushly maintained gated communities/but the mountains trap the pollution in a sprawling shallow bowl/and a hike up piestewa peak will reveal/the thin soup we breathe

i love my valley anyway/and my own hair has turned quite gray/and it does not make me too blue/to think that I’m an ashtray too

“Just think,” thought some Chinese person,/Many bloody centuries ago,/”Put this dust in a tube and ignite it/And away a slug of metal will go.”

Now, I don’t think there is an actual designated region/Anywhere but in the human imagination/That human souls reside for eternity/In torment for their misdeeds,

But even if there were/I don’t think the mere imagining of the principal use of Gunpowder/Would earn that Chinese soul a ticket/To such a place.

But the driving force of human survival/Demands that once an idea is out there/That is novel and useful*/It WILL be run up the flagpole/To see who salutes it.

One of the mysteries of the Universe/Is some undetectable stuff called dark matter/That we KNOW is there/But only inferentially/Because the Universe could not exist/Without at least six times as much mass/As we can detect/According to some of us who add their imaginations/To their knowledge of mathematics/And physical law.

Imagine what would happen if we had access to that stuff?/SCARY!!!

A long time ago a man invited us to imagine/That there was neither Heaven nor Hell.

He was trying to push us toward peace and unselfishness.

But some of us seem to need angels

And devils.

****

*Since Useful means at core “full of use[s], putting something to BAD use still counts, alas.