Life & Death

The coffee pot 

emptied.

B.F.M.

Bowl A beggar

A beggar 
holds out his bowl,
I climb in.

B.F.M.

If I Could

The wall switch controls the hall lights on and off.

Those close to me wonder why I walk in the dark.

As if I knew the latin root for switch, which as it turns out, is perhaps Middle Dutch – swijch

B.F.M.

Being Dark

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Fukiya

Love your work, but

have you ever read: 

The Iliad?

The Divine Comedy?

The Golden Ratio?

The field guide to birds - Arizona & New Mexico;

Fermat’s Enigma?

The Wise Heart?

Pain Free by Peter Egoscue?

The Wild Iris?

Anything by Basho?

B.F.M.

Gathering Material

Each morning I hang

yellow sticky fly traps

hoping to catch a few

and write down their

last dying breaths.

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Gathering Dust

Some lives pass

like an abandon

pink mobile home 

where

the Sonoran wind kicks

dust through creaking

doors then slams it shut.

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Blight of How To's

I've read so much

I've forgotten how 

or where to sit

in the morning's light.

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Dove Aria

Ten thousand mornings

pass and my dove claims

to have birthed each one.

Cooing from her perch 

like the passing sun

"Wake up you buffoon."

B.F.M.

Editing

Burn every word.

Scorch every sentence.

Return tomorrow

to read the ashes

like one reads 
tea leaves. 

B.F.M.

Fear & Love

A new series of work.
Diagraming Life.

Title:
Fear & Love, balancing act.

Contrails

In flight

the dove 

murmurs

my love, 

my love.

B.F.M.

Birdsongs

Striving to be bird-like

I’d sing only 

when I have something to say.

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She’s So Smart

Does the owl

get it’s wisdom

from the entrails

of her victims?

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Earlier Bird

The willow grove 

hoot-hoots 

before the cock crows.

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Coup

Dried pin oak leafs

wither till spring

when old regimens

are ousted by 

the brighter green.

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A.M. Guessing Game

Each morning I think: I know who I am. 

Then stumble into the bathroom,

look in the mirror and wonder:

where I got this awful wig.

B.F.M.

Shards

After I kissed you good-bye,

I made my ritual strong coffee, 

watched the sun crest the ridge,

watched her define clear cut 

but empty shadows.

Shattered ceramic shards

cut at my feet.

I cried over each fragment:

the handle’s curve in twos,

the bottom’s foundation in fours,

the walls that held in eights.

Bloodied, I did what I could, 

I got up did 
laundry, sorting, hurting.

B.F.M.

Amazon

From it’s high crested

bully pulpit, Amazon

makes recommendations:

Why beer Matters

&

Charming Shrew.

B.F.M.

5 Comedies

A machine that rakes sand traps.

A prayer offered to god.

A letter out of place.

Under estimating an atheist’s spirituality.

A machine that painting greens green.

B.F.M.

Burned Once

How will go for me 

when

stove top

gas burners 
are 

flaming high

and grease 
is 
all that I am?

B.F.M.

Assessments

Robbery:

defining someone 

with a words.

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Ordinary Life

In the land of mumbo-jumbo

the spider reigns supreme.

Though his crown an awkward fit

everyone calls him king.

Webbing fates with tiny streams

our fates go unseen.

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Old Man Walker

I watch the old man

afraid of gravity,

shuffle with his eight legs.

I’ve never seen a spider 

move so clumsy, so slow.

B.F.M.

The Strike

This beautiful evening's sitting 
is better suited for a monk.

The quiet a paralyzing 
venom slithers 
away all good intentions.

B.F.M.

Status

Of the thousand quotidian
words to say, all I can
muster is an anaemic
smiley face.

B.F.M