now you plummet/from a summit/on an early day in Fall
tempty-dooming/as you’re zooming/by a narrow canyon’s wall
out the cavity/as gravity/tries so hard to make you splat
ripcord failure/as you wail you’re/too 3D to end up fl
the dust of a moth’s or butterfly’s wing/when you look closely/is from overlapping scales/a sheddable part of the wing integument/that slightly improves wing aerodynamics
this is why moths and butterflies/are grouped under the order lepidoptera/which is greek for ‘scalewing’
now let’s jump-cut to the 1840s and the murky origin of the word ‘scalawag’
it may have been invented by some farmer in the american south/who needed a word for one of his unproductive animals
but in little time it was used to describe/disreputable men worthy of scorn
and over time took on a flavor of mischief/probably because the last syllable ‘wag’/means not only the motion of a dog’s tale/but a jokester
thus it is with language as it takes the flight of years buffeted by whim and chance
and the meanings of words flutter around/like a butterfly/with one dustless wing
“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.
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
