from Raccoon

Watching  The Weather Channel in San Francisco

(bouts of light flirt through blinds)

…what’s that she said?

                 forthcoming from the

bosom she heaved

                                   ‘a bountiful gulf moisture’

spreading from the south

              yea upward

curving 

                 munificence

lotion unleashed in the headwind

               drifting slowly

to the four corners of my toilet bag

there she blows

here we blew

too northerly

       too westerly

               to feel the bounty brush…

…what’s that beneath my finger?

Lowly, longly a wail went forth…           

Never Seeing Whales

(schools of rocks moved)

Walking beyond walking

distance without

a car

is how hard we tried

to see you:

we tried so hard

we saw

outcrops of

rocks

move

and

hump

and

spout

and

even if they weren’t whales

we sure damn got excited

about the rocks

moving

and

in

the low-glowing

retrospect

of disappointment

rocks moving is

even

more amazing

than whales

moving

even

if the rocks

didn’t

really move.

Celestial Grammar

(suck it and see)

When a world holds itself.

Oh periwinkle!

I cannot describe that

old moon

in the new moon’s arms

in Idaho

in rare desert air hung

a savage punctuation

in a too big sky

to dislodge from

my retina

a souvenir of speech.

Oh drupaceous damson!

But When Word Crew Jumps Ship

(doom-plummet of the heavenly orb)

New research:

new moons and full

relax and squeeze

seas

relax and squeeze

rocks

relax and squeeze

radon

killing us humans

disheartening our proverbs

ladening our dreams with doom

confounding our every last romantic.

Is there nothing sacred that is not out to kill us?

Oh pass the lethal sea salt for my deadly red meat ye murderous oceans!

Never Seeing Elk

(I eat your tender girder)

I looked everywhere:

            on that rare fillet of Point Reyes

            along the San Andreas Fault

            at everwet-Evergreen

            in clandestine skirting boards

            under unpressurized skies

            in the cymbal-clash of hand palm

            under palm-crash of a tree leaves

            in a sheaf of Alan’s hair

            straggling white Egyptian

            cotton sheets

            in shadowesque

            between frettings in netted clouds

            and clotted lace curtains 

            none of these

            not even in the patina of

            Mrs Dash

            scattered picante over

            pottage

            nor the whole

            humdinging

            coast road from

            San Fran

            to

            Near Death:

Nada

But Something Nighed in Boise

(Cathy puts a pot roast on – we all have tea)

Amidships the veg

was

a three letter word

beginning with

‘E’

getting low

down & dirty with

laughing stock

I spy the irony

with both little

eyes staring back at

me

grunting from

the bathroom

mirror a

forest echo

of dewlap

& antlers.

I pack three pine cones

deep in bubblewrap.

Never seeing Mount Rainier

(we strain my eyes with cloudburst )

‘But that’s not a mountain!’

smiles Zoë gorgeously aslant

driving

with her L.A. knees

towards a big white peaky thing

which sticks an indignant finger

in the air at this casual abuse:

it was mountain enough for

us:  little island racers.

But it wasn’t Rainier

those sweet Olympians

forswore what we saw was nothing

OoOoOoOoOoooo

those nonny

OooOzzZzzzz

cascading

before our over-keen eyes

were just a bunch of

hummocks.

We strained my high seeking

eyes onto lowlife clouds

cracking through another

chardonnay and

agitated stun-dance

downing chasers to

mildewed entrails

beneath the awnings

outcast smokers gathered

under levitating pelts

of rain talking up death to

guffaws

downing rounds of

dead baby

rabbits - cotton buds

achingly small

beneath

O you’re so big

invisible mountain 

meaning nothing to me

without seeing your O

so awe-ing.

But Ever Exulted With Bare Necessity

(metal moves me)

a giraffe

in a 

weeny 

human hand

amid

mid-sized hummocks

was a spectacular of metal

languishing

 in a thrift shop

to pin to

my

lapel

my

to-die-for

long-necked

lash-long

leggy-ah

all-time

big-on

best

word

ever