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Lay those bricks and crunch those numbers

Ease a patient’s constant pain

Clear debris where it encumbers

Help an addict to refrain

Pick a crop in blazing hot light

Guard an outpost in the gloom

Flip the eggs adjust the spotlight

Take the guest’s bags to her room

Coffee’s brewing–thank baristas

Bus ride home safe–thank the drivers

Awesome clothes–thank fashionistas

Thank YOU, Movers, Shakers, Strivers!

***

Today is the first Monday in September, making it Labor Day in the United States of America. It is my day off from paycheck-earning work, but I have just labored comfortably in the bedroom of my apartment to wring a handful of rhyming job descriptions from my morning-fuzzy brain. It was fun work, done for the pleasure of playing with words and sending a subtle love letter to workers of all stripes into the world, including you, whatever you do, for our most important labor is the vital job of making ourselves into better people.

(to Brenda Anna)

the doc lulled me then

twist-snapped my head. a

ver

teb

ral

ar

pejh

jhee

oh!

Afterword: this faux haiku is based on a doctor’s visit I’d had over twenty years ago, a first visit with a doctor in my PPO network. I had reported neck problems of pain and severely limited range of motion. He had me lie face- up on the examining table and positioned himself behind my head, gently rocking my head as if it were a bowling ball, saying a few lulling words in a monotonous voice, and just as I became 100% relaxed he quick-as-lightning twisted my head at least 75 degrees. My upper vertebrae crepitated big time, both audibly and tactilely. Flash forward to about an hour ago, and the sudden remembrance of that event, and I wondering if I could synopsize it in seventeen syllables with the last two words being “vertebral arpeggio.” That musing turned into what you have just read.

life/hive life/the vile defile/the child denial/vilification informed by style/guile

time/climb time/the trial decrial/the tiled parietal/ossification with viaduct bile/aisle

here is your life here is your time preheat and bake with twists of lime and meet defeat as tenured strife and victory’s continued life

inside my mouth/and near the left corner of my mouth/there is a nub of inner mouth tissue/raised enough so that my left canine

and the sharp tooth below it can gently notquitebite it/and they do notquitebite it/in my times of nervous contemplation

there is a counterpart nub/ near the right corner of my mouth too/ but i tend not to notquitebite it/probably because of my handedness/for as it turns out/in addition to me being left-handed/and left-footer and left-eyed/it only stands to reason/that i would be left-mouthed too

I have wondered over the years if my fellow human beings have nubs like these/or if i am a mutation

if you/have a nub or two/please comment/for you are not alone

I sit at the bus stop

A fingernail moon rising east of my left shoulder

On my seventieth birthday

Glad to be heading for work

And not stewing in a hospital bed

Nor snoozing during the first millennium of a dirt nap

Glad to be here

With a serviceable body

And a still-questing mind

And the peacefulness that comes

With all bills paid

And the self-granted license to drink

All the chocolate milk I want

As long as it’s 1%

And it’s still my birthday

the green of greens differs from that of the fairways/and that of algae and bankvaults/and there are thousands of distinct hues of green in every rainbow

the green from the oxidation of copper/is not found in any rainbow nor blade of grass/and I read somewhere that the relativistic effects on the electron arrays of metals/have a profound influence on the colors we see

of course green is not all lushness and eco-friendliness

some shades are associated with sickliness and corruption and death

best not to overthink it

we might get jaded

she is in a canoe in a trough and she has a virtual reality helmet on her head. She rows steadily but the constant-flow current pushing against her and her craft keep her stationary

while the vr changes what she sees, which are ghosts against a backdrop of dizzying riverbank

mountainscapes. the ghosts are the real-life characters in playlets plucked from her memories, moments good and bad from her relationships, that through biofeedback were chosen

as appropriate “life lessons.” they serve to distract her from the ache of her exertions

and, it is hoped, help her to process what happened between her and her lovers

so that she might move on. the lining under her eyes inside the helmet is of a material

that wicks away her tears and sweat.

two good cries and 90 minutes of strong pulling, and the bell chimes and the images fade

and the current ebbs to stillness. she wonders

when the apparatus will deem it non-traumatic and therapeutic

to show scenes of her with carlita

and jules and marcus.

if you want quiet

it might help to listen to the right things

like a ladybug on a leaf

or Antares.

sometimes you have internal noise

but if you realize you have heard those strident, scolding messages before

they may become mere grumbles and murmurs.

here a swish to hear, there a siren to ignore.

closing your eye completes the equation.

my 70th birthday approaches my friends/and though i rejoice my alivedness/the upped crepitation encroaches my friends/and meds make existence contrivedness

young folk call me boomer in scorn-condescension/implying i’m taking up spacing/how useless my latin nouns with each declension/how t u r t l e s l o w dull is my pacing

i need no revenge though there’s some to be had/with hourglass watches and mire/ their years will flash by like a stripper unclad/and eternity dims all desire

fix is fuzzy fix is funny fix mix definition/a junkie’s dose a quick repair your target in position/and prefix suffix affix transfix mix the fixes more/o postfix infix crucifix a fixture with a corps

it lends itself to oxymoron try this on and check it

the finest way to fix a bad guy’s wagon is to wreck it