HOW'S THEM APPLES?©
CONNECTIONS
an apple barrel has what to do with it?
with a most unlikely handle
a paparazzi vacation to Belize
far away and probably less important
than rainy places in Oregon, Washington
that got so hot this summer
and the fire storms
an ocean cruise: let's take a trip to Bermuda
get away from it all
but the hurricanes
that cruise ship with Ebola on board
to view a colony of coral reefs, gasping
when we were young
father took a trip to Chicago
and stayed there
while he was gone no one could know
how I stared into the night
with an unformed question
when he came back to visit
family time was a game of Monopoly
his real talent, though, was apple pie
one time he explained
his first job was cook at a logging camp
peeling and slicing and making apple pies
a skill he demonstrated
be sure to add enough cinnamon and sugar
so the juice forms that thin layer of candy
he said
and then he got very serious
we wondered what we'd done wrong
he said
the pie had to come out just right
or those loggers would beat him up
they were very rough guys
and then
as the pie came out of the oven
he smiled
maybe he loved us after all
he told us the logging camp was in Washington
near the border
the answer to my question now, though, is right here
it could be making an apple pie
if that's what's happening today
or Washington – famous for its apples
but really
it's not explainable
FLY FISHING
bones in the desert
quick as a lizard
impartial flames lap at toes
the ebb and flow never ceasing
pea gravel crunching underfoot
on another dry day as I think
for no reason
of snow on Mount Diablo
and then
with no real connection
of that day on a high school afternoon
of dialing a random number on the phone
and awarding a case of ketchup to someone
who was grateful
and how good we both felt
FANCY FEAST
blue M&Ms in a jar
rattle like my truck in gravel
on those fantail peacock trips
no longer devoted to customers
who never would have worn the proper hat
even if it could be promised
that no one notices anyhow
who will pay attention anyway
to the gondola of the Goodrich dirigible
or even the Hindenburg
it was so fat and of course lightning
had to downplay that hint of hubris
no, our neighborhood is sensible
pancakes for breakfast, and bacon
emails arrive with descriptions
a dirigible floating silently overhead
dropping crows like leaflets warning
of the impending power failure
Tabitha, with an outstretched paw, agrees
potluck trips where cold morning tires thump
for a couple of blocks
and the drummer on the next block
hasn't started practicing yet
there is probably a psychiatric reason
for all of that
a melted clock
no alarm
the emptiness of an early street
Philippine clouds not yet rising
the faint scratching of a pencil
off to one side, discreetly
and of course the sixth extinction is a topic
to deflate Goodyear blue
M&Ms
twisted hands falling
black wings flapping
laughing gas, everyone
as the face masks come down
automatically
TWO FROGS
exasperated: Short Circuit the circus-media!
I had written
this evening it's news time and ATT is announcing
a two-hour system hiatus
reasonably, this must be mutual myopia
or perhaps those Chinese hackers who recently
took down our National Weather Service?
in front of the (dark) TV as usual
time for tea and peanuts
Tabitha purrs and gets her lap
turn on the fuchsia lamp
the Weather channel had reported
a record breaking Arctic Blast
freezing the ATT system?
with no link to PBS frog tales
the entire edifice has just fogged out
was Short Circuit another instance of precognition?
a time to watch (or not)
and a time to write
Tabitha clambers over the clip board
with predictable skirmishes over writing space
until finally we get sleepy
amidst fall leaves this morning
a photo of our concrete frog
does a permanent frog have adventures?
SHORT CIRCUIT
frog tales on PBS are razor thin
fairy tales
wouldn't it be a quilt to have them again
and the freeways go away
to sail with condor wings
find the golden palace, green parrots
clothes washer explanations for haystack things
warm oatmeal
Christmas snow
but no, we have the Arctic Blast
Monopoly heads talking weather
smile! you're on Security Camera
as the entire edifice slowly fogs out
leaving a calm mind
BACK TO THE LAND
since the operation for cataracts
I see like a child again
through the window, onto the street
my gardening truck, shorn of its accoutrements
shovel, rake, soaker hose, rope coiled by the cab
as it awaits its fate
on the wooden post, a single spider thread
back lit in morning sun
sending rainbow slices
semaphore
let the wheel barrow roam
someday it will come for me
