FLAT BUSH©

TROLL BOOTH BOOGIE

Rumpelstiltskin could be a table leg

or a turn stile

but no, it's got to be a fairy tale

history is written by the victors?

humbug!

step into the troll booth

scholars burn their own candles

for instance a documentary on the dark ages

which has a scene eerily similar to another one

found in a documentary on slavery

with composition, lighting, colors that could be

identical twins raised in different countries

fascinating --

the documentaries

as intended

are forgotten

it's like searching for a dropped fly swatter

the question is

whose intention rules?

I am the swat team

burning the candle at both ends

think of the iridescent sheen

the marvelous colors of a fly's wing

think of the one that got away

to form its own band

leading others in a V-formation

audacious geese music

honking over trees down the horizon

to bless memories that made sense at the time

and still do without the burden of definitions

Rumpelstiltskin living in a tower

let down her golden hair

in braids

the green giant shinnied up

and they lived happily ever after

over a bowl of pea soup

ANTIMATTER

matter is statary energy

a yin yang market

black holes

where matter seems to disappear

are the ultimate waste disposal service

a parade of black pitted olives

reminiscent of sun dried volcanoes

tubas belching gas

passes in review

out of sight down an endless street

a floating dragon with piccolos

fire crackers perhaps

or a pelting drop of rain

heard vaguely as a child playing

suspended in a galaxy of cheese

black pitted olives

define white holes

where it all reappears

BLOWING LEAVES

“God has a bigger blower,” I said

scarcely concealing my irritation

when my customer years ago remarked

the futility of a windy day

regardless of anyone's belief

an invocation of some sort had seemed necessary

but surprisingly after that

the idea stuck around and became complicated

God – are you there?

Well then, the hell with you!

the absurdity of it becoming another complication

God never answered

it had seemed then, on reflection

that life is just one big test

I got a bigger blower

which brought some measure of success

but no real victory

I tried thinking my way out of it

God, no God, whatever the futility

clearly, I cannot control the wind

the admission being a moral victory

but a hollow one

being aligned with prevailing winds

our side yards here are natural wind tunnels

boosting the slightest breeze

for years mostly overpowered

the big blower sent leaves up

dropping down like fighter planes

raising dust as in the fog of war

then one summer day

when fewer leaves fall

the light blower seemed appropriate

and almost accidentally

out of one corner of my frustration

something always there finally registered

the breeze blows in gusts

during which an opposing force acts like a seawall

causing billows of leaves

the way through:

when the gust blows

pull back on the throttle

when it pauses

nudge the throttle

a constant intent going forward

through an inconstant breeze

gets the job done

FLAT BUSH CHARM

bring forth the batten song

call on Dumble Dorf to restore the holographic

quantum throng that tumbles the imagination

which has escaped beyond reason

hatching plots

not so much illegal as absurd

(here comes one now, its nose twitching slightly)

sir, this very morning when you brought the avocado

you were a normal squirrel, though somewhat eccentric

“I am, indeed.” he agreed

it was mistaken for a gift, I replied

“You presume too much. My gifts are for children.”

well then, what about the rose hip you brought

?

“Not for you.”

but you hopped off the fence with it

ran right up with a quizzical look

held it up like an offering

“I was hungry, and there you were.”

you are such a bushy tail flat minded squirrel!

remember when I planted your gift

if you don't mind

it seemed that way to me at the time

how did you know, and when, and why dig it up

?

“Telepathy.”

nonsense

how about those other times

you sitting in the hackberry tree

when we just watched each other

?

“Most humans are too busy.”

and when I discovered it near the garlic just planted

?

“We both have eyes.”

only to rediscover the following morning

after replanting it in the pot

that it was gone

?

“You are such a flat minded human.”