BACH BOOGIE©

RIVERS

the new day begins with a yawn

a rusted pencil sharpener

edges become a filigree of tendrils

dust sparkles at dawn

let it settle down to dew

an anthill was fascinating

once

fireflies danced, but not on purpose

mathematics can dance

when forgotten

it's all just the beginning

FATE'S WHISPER

claw trimming time

Tabitha is glad for the attention

Rosie complains, but endures it

Susan is the goddess of clipping

settling in for an evening of dances with words

fleeting forms at eventide

lowering clouds condense into darkness

a distant aeroplane recalls its heritage

the sealed ark cannot gleam now

green bowers of Easter Island denied their glory days

and the gods of jurisprudence rap twenty seven gavels in unison

clap trap! I say

three young women have shared their tattoos with me

peeling back sharp edged images that would have burnt flesh

and I gently remove those clearly edged decals

having nothing to do with cats

silent eagles in majestic flight

not visible from too far above

carrying dreams and passions and sullen sunsets

dramatic denizens of pot holes on Benton Street

city politicians in conspicuously covert civilian robes

ties well tied

sashes tossed carelessly

it all seems like a dream

almost forgotten at morning's edge

all gardens of Eden have taken a Sabbatical

LISTEN AGAIN

leaves fall

rain falls

and leaves return to their origin

to nourish leaves

no one takes credit for this

nations fall and there are plenty of takers

depending on rain and leaves for nourishment

new roads are built

to become ruins

armies, volcanoes, the spread of ideas

tragic tales told

heroes buried

nourishment

the Change has been here before

sweeping all before it

two inches of snow in a southern state

clog freeways to a standstill

people abandon their cars

“we weren't warned”

but we are:

SNOW in Atlanta?

drought in California

about this time of year

as in years that plumb depths of memory

cherry trees sprout blossoms

blue hills in mist

Blossom Hill Road looks out over a valley of irrigation

MAGIC MOMENTS

while waiting for the light to change

no use honking

there will be no tiger attack

outraged elephants and buffaloes are silenced

flick a switch

or something

the left hand turn lane is buffeted with sonic booms

from hurtling cars a few feet to the right

laws, rules are blessings of civilization

or the bane of it?

where does civilization park?

who granted the permit?

does “it” know “me”?

given enough traffic, there is a period of silence . . .

the four wheeled office has morphed into a monastery

traffic cameras see nothing

then the little arrow goes green

nothing happens as “I” turn left

literary sensibilities might dictate this is the end of a well rounded story

but it spills over

climate change, corrupt politicians, nuclear submarines, corporate zombies

as spiders wither in their webs

humans crush each other in the illusion of worldly space

forgotten

in the left hand turn lane

SAINT TABITHA

magic is anywhere

any moment

gravel, crows on a light pole

a city council meeting

anyplace where suddenly it is remembered

place and the moment are gone

time is laughable

right here in our front yard birds are laughing

in the morning

when the sun shines on Saint Francis in the back yard

Tabitha is there

her magic moment

she scratches and shits

and the Saint

though just a statue

smiles