I wait,
although these days
I am no longer sure what for.
The window above my desk
frames something more immediate,
a view of early morning -
first light dusting tree ferns
in an amber glow, the bamboo
fountain dripping melt water
into a still drowsy hush
and emerging from its bed,
the red blush of a cyclamen.
The cherry tree's last yellow
leaves hold for a moment
pasted on the present
and whatever is to come
cannot breach this small patch
of the world I am taking in
of which I am a part.
Open eyes and Heart.
Limitless Peace.
Juniper blood.
Silver dreams.
Yoked to Love.
Under the rumors.
I am Held.
the creature was sitting quietly in the pumpkin patch
Her head was made of gunny sacks, we called her Match
Because all of her seams were lined up evenly.
She did not speak much, but she giggled with glee.
The giggling was excessive, it bothered Tony for a while.
She looks diabolical, look at her devilish smile.
I did not see it, but liked the way she exuded joy.
Match went home with me and became my favorite toy.
The proposition has faded - as if it never existed
those in-the-know are not swiftly pursued
the walls in the halls of this lonely locale are no longer inviting
and they have missed their chance
to replace any sense of reassurance
Abolishing the reasonable and rational
until we're operating in a moral deficiency:
the familiar becomes foreign
and those once family become strangers
The sentiment to give back equally as much as is received
is well-wished for, but the prevailing shift
will not let up, let go
or let the inevitable arrive
Ebony ears carving a melody
To not listen is a fuchsia felony
Pumpkin patch a ballroom for hags
As scarecrows do the monster mash
Crop circles and winding corn mazes
People love to explore such places
In the red barn we try to get warm
A spider near apple cider does no harm
Black bats are the birds of night
A hooting owl gives them fright
Frosty air thick fall’s denim delight
Candy apple on stick take a bite
Autumn fair with colorful leaves
All is well on this calm Halloween
Festive fun despite the chill in air
Wind is a hawk that squawks and stares
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
vines twist 'round boot soles—
"Sir, your cravate!" gasps the scarecrow.
orange truce blooms at dusk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
the fourth dimension unfolds where pumpkins dream—
not carved faces, but swollen worlds pulsing slow.
under the moon's cold coin, vines twist and gleam
like question-mark hooks snagging night's velvet glow.
PUMPKIN PATCH
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pumpkins are the sweetness of autumn, the suns of the earth reflecting our own star radiating hearth-spun orange upon the earthy brown.
equinox draws near
pumpkin season arising
pumpkin spice far, near
a misty morning
pumpkins laying on the ground
fall leaves everywhere
sitting in a pile
pumpkins wait for Halloween
for smiles to return
Sneaking through the graveyard
in the dead of night
to a hidden garden
in full moonlight
you want to be careful better beware
the fiery eyes
of the scarecrow's stare
if the spell is broken
you open Pandora's Box
and it's lights out
for the jack-o-lanterns
they're in for a nasty shock
you have to be careful better beware
the Halloween screams
of your worst nightmare
'cause something's jumping in the pumpkin patch
it's goblins going trick or treat
they're a-getting hungry
for something good to eat
there's a second ocean
sprawled like an accident,
a spill of plastic guts and chemical veins
choking what swims,
suffocating the tides
that once dreamed of moonlight and salt.
we did this.
with our coffee cups and straws,
our six-pack rings,
our shiny wrappers crumpled
and forgotten.
a monument to convenience,
an altar to laziness,
floating like the unburied dead
on water too poisoned to sweep.
somewhere out there,
a bird swallows a cigarette lighter
and calls it food.
a turtle struggles in the straitjacket of progress.
and the ocean,
the god we ignored,
becomes our mirror,
ugly and infinite,
what kind of emotions do you feel when I call you out about that?
Pumpkin pie pumpkin spice
Under black stars or blue skies
Melting mouths in cheesecake
Patches in the south where we play
Kisses from your tangerine tongue
In the pumpkin patch where sun
Neon glows like holy soul
May we be blessed to treat everyone we meet
in exactly the same way
As if we’re offering them a sweet breeze and a patch of shade
on the hottest summer day.
She went to a pumpkin patch
To carve her pumpkin from scratch
But it came alive
Because it had thrived
From eating his unwilling catch
.
hoist it up mate
fer
she wakes
gotta see
her
purty
shadow
fer see
her'z
mine
mangled
breeches
*did ya know; pirates wore patches
to see their way in the dark. So they
say; "covering one eye made the other
see better at night"
I had heard about Cabbage Patch dolls, but now they are alive….
Growing in a garden near Winsted Ranch on Highway Five
They parted their leaves and began giggling when they were ready
Discovered last month by their benefactor, master gardener named Freddy.
He was fretting at the time about whether he could keep his farm going.
Not seeing at the time this is the way God had his future growing.
Now everyone and their partner wants a selfie with the Cabbage Patch dolls.
Freddy has made this into a destination place; he gets all kinds of calls.
Girl Scout Troops and Girls on the Run have him booked through twenty-six.
He has been able to pay off all of his debt, and is no longer in a “fix”.
Freddy is grateful to the Cabbage Patch dolls, he would like to keep them all.
“But we want to go with the girls!” They argue. This is their battle call.
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