Tuesday, October 30, 2012

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.

Sunday, October 28, 2012

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

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.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Gathering Material

Each morning I hang
yellow sticky fly traps
hoping to catch a few
and write down their
last dying breaths.

B.F.M.

Gathering Dust

Some lives pass
like an abandon
pink mobile home 
where
the Sonoran wind kicks
dust through creaking
doors then slams it shut.

B.F.M.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

Blight of How To's

I've read so much
I've forgotten how 
or where to sit
in the morning's light.

B.F.M.

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.

Monday, October 15, 2012

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.

B.F.M.

She’s So Smart

Does the owl
get it’s wisdom
from the entrails
of her victims?

B.F.M.

Earlier Bird

The willow grove 
hoot-hoots 
before the cock crows.

B.F.M.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

Coup

Dried pin oak leafs
wither till spring
when old regimens
are ousted by 
the brighter green.

B.F.M.

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.

Monday, October 8, 2012

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.

Friday, October 5, 2012

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.

B.F.M

Wednesday, October 3, 2012

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.

B.F.M.

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.

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Status

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

B.F.M