The Wait

Swelling night air surrounds
me and the oldest tree,
Deep within the dark
greenwoods,
eerie heavy pressure builds,
Watching the White Owl watch,

Ambivalently waiting
on a lofty perch,
in the gray glow of a
reflective half moon.
Wise doesn't really matter
up there.

No contemplation only instinct,
The White Owl blinks
in slow motion,
one time
Gathering visions invisible
to me.

Down here,
thick green-leafy fragrance,
Choking on
a forest smog that
permeates then seals,
my skin with filmy
plant exhales,
The accepting sighs of a
vegetative state.

My heart beats faster with each
silent moment passing.

Crawling hopping creatures
to fearful to move or sing,
anticipating,
the sudden flutter of
unfolding wings, sweeping
white elegant's prelude
to carnage,

And I feel it too.
The crushing weight
of time
expanding inside my
skull and my chest while
waiting
for the White Owl to fly.

rlm 8/17 /02

Only Words

Forced to walk unchosen paths
Footprints scatter in the wind
These thousand steps  ahead will wait
While I turn to watch suns set
Behind shapely seductive hills
Where red infernos glow still
Illuminating amber skies
For me to write upon
Like white chalk on cracked sidewalks
So all the world may read
My name and who I was
And what I rally am
If there is space enough
I'll write down all my sins
With the names of all the people
I have ever wronged
Clearly, each and every one
Then quickly I will scribble
All the thousands of my lies
And your name too, many times
I will write four secret things
Only seven people know
As if they care about
My whole unholy story
Finally, though my hand will tremble
With fear and chill
I'll write the ineffable name
Before dark clouds move in
Then I will lay down in fields
Of tall grass and yellow flowers
Remembering a short poem
I will feel the rain pour down
Cold tears of false absolution
Washing only words away

A Life Saver

Discovered in my pocket,
it was red,
Slightly dissolved...and
a little fuzzy.

I plucked it free
from where it stuck,
next to the forgotten penny
unspent.

Cherry is my favorite.

rlm 8/1/01

Hunting for Blackberries in Sagatuk

Blackberries always grew by the side of the road,

Tourists jumped from Vista Cruisers to ravage those,

We searched deeper in the woods with blue plastic pails,

Closely following Grandma to her secret patch,

Where juicy blackberries waited only for us.

Morning sun burned off the chill an hour ago,

Squatting with stained fingers, tummies fuller than pails,

We battled sticker bushes for bigger berries,

Taking pride in that special find, holing it up high,

'Ladies and Gentlemen the worlds biggest black berry!'

Smiling at our silliness, Grandmother picked on,

Wide brimmed straw hat shading ruminating blue eyes,

She diligently filled two pails to carry home,

At our cottage, in cream with sugar, we ate more,

While Grandmother preserved the rest in Bell Jelly Jars.

rlm 8/2/01

Experience

Slow trigger squeeze
smooth action
never heard the
click-bang. Cold metal
tastes like
fresh blood, I think.
The moment of falling
slowly down
slips my memory now.
I never felt the
bullet ripping
my brain apart or
breaking through the back
of my skull.
Sulfur powder cloud
exploding in my eyes
didn't sting.
There wasn't any
comforting pain.

rlm 10-9-02