coyote

Coyote of boreal suburbia
eats any object made of
meat that moves and
rubber boots. Even the
crows have moved on;
gardens growing madly,
deer afraid to risk dear
life for easy succulents;
paths untrodden,
greening...

Hero Whine

Paste this into your
scrapbook of delusions:
all of nothing is no thing;
be an artist, Zappa some
thing out of it, then sell
it, Taurus. Labour before
capital: get the silicone
out before it hurts you.

Irish Linen

A shot across the loom ,
then up,   and 
walk with  me awhile
among the bursting buds
where crows vigil
their broods silently.
Soon their handsome young
will leave the roost
to cavil seagulls
over scraps. Remember
when they crossed
the ocean, built cathedrals,
ordered damask for their tables?