Davy Crockett Coincidence

I had a racoon hat

That recovered and

Returned to the wild.

I was an unusual child,

Like other selves, left

Our narrow lanes and

Consorted with elves,

Fell out of our brains.

What, you too? Thought

So: let us, you and 

I, together go --adventure

Awaits, of that I'm sure. 

Fall Light

 Fall light turns summer

Gently away and wards

Scalding days off  our

Poor yard's woody end.

From a  shaded clearing

We are hearing herons

Overhead, and falling

Leaves sail lower flight

In susurrus spreading

Under hushed fall light.

 

Geometry of Indivisibility

                        

                         (Sunflower and Marigolds from Norma's Garden)

Circle unbroken, we

Woke into an arc, continued

A whole turn and

Learned each word

Reaches for the next.

The text endures. 

It is yours and is, for me,

Mysterious, true.

It surrounds me.

It loves you.

 

Out Of August

She just now sent this
From the kitchen entitled
"Don't Forget To Laugh"--
One of many yearly
"Veggieportaits" she 
Uses to lure me out of
August, awful month except
For so many loved ones'
Birthdays, harvests, stunning
Flavors but hot as...
Well, who can complain as
Garden deliriants obtain? 

Homonyms Or Homophones?

In music, in thought, we find
The mind entails a notion
Of all things and the
Mind entails an ocean
Of all things...

            ...as does the
Pacific as our star leans
Into sunset , where life,
Language bring an ocean
And notion to mean
Much the same thing.
 

Oh Dear

I have just now written a grampa poem based on perusal of photo-archives and remembered stories from relatives. It could be a ballad if I could rhyme things oftener, but I'm happy with it. Hope you are too. --Geo.

Oh dear, what shall
I do, and what good will
It do when I do it?
Grampa took a train
As far as he could,
Hired a boat by the bay.
He made his way through
Thoroughfares, Bedlam,
Where squares became
Parallelograms --in defeat,
Buildings lunged onto streets.
He found my great aunt Ann,
And likewise uncle Joe,
Gave them cash, food, wine.
So they got though it fine.
Grampa was a good man,
As angels grade themselves.
He never spoke of his good works
Then died when I was twelve.

Time Travel Poem: My failure to Capture Billy The Kid.

(To Norma)

I stepped out of the 
Pumphouse (it was a
Million o'clock in
The morning) and drew 
The door behind me,
Confused in light and
Dew --I remembered you.
An early investigation
In this young nation of
Fields and farms: I went
Wisely to the school-
Marm and asked, "What's
Billy The Kid's middle name?"
You said, "A definite article."
I said, "'The?'!"
You said "Duh!"
"How does he outrun the law?"
"With a modifier --always did.
Fools everybody -- it's
'Billy The Other Kid'!"
I said,"You're right, of course."
As I fell off my horse but
Did not fail to mention she
Should return with me to
My century as it really
Could use her attention.

Potted Olive Tree

                                                         Grayboy

When day brings 
Him into learning,
Grayboy springs
Into action, attacking
One or another fraction

Of all things, uniting
them, wrestling, testing
Himself  in all he sees.
We too might learn from
Wrestling olive trees.