Election 2016: Good Enough for Government Work

There is a place where we are good enough.
In that place we can let go of folded sheets and oil of olay
and bathroom scales.
In that place dust gathers without consequences
and Mr. Clean and the Brawny Towel Man hide in a bottle
while I-Dream-of-Jeannie wreaks havoc at sea
like Puck set free.
In that place, hair styles change every second
like a mood ring on your head
and psychedelic colors cavort across bodies of every gender
with no hidden meaning.
In that place a pantsuit is a miniskirt is a burka is
culottes capri pants cut-offs low-risers hip-huggers
bikini brief knock-offs
and clothing is the same as going nude.
In that place where we are good enough
we speak bravely to the boss
and sleep the sleep of the just
just because we
choose.
And in that place
And in that place
And in THAT place
women
are good enough for government work.

Garden Epiphany

Life defies housekeeping.
It spills over edges,
reaches for the sun,
topples itself,
messy and uncontained,
   demanding and delicate,
          diverse, entangling,,
                 unpredictable -

The riotous spikes of a rosemary bush
The crocosmia leaves' refined swoosh
The potted hydrangea's fat purple blooms
The yellow roses' buttery swoons
A single bird that tweedles its tune

And the counterpoint caw
of a death-hued crow.

future past perfect: a prophecy

when you get lost in the forest
you will be
barefoot
you will have
no armor
you will
strip naked
and enter the darkest of caves
with nothing
but a flickering torch

Auntie Duchess

Auntie Duchess,
cool as cotton sheets in summer,
her smooth fingers dancing
with acrobat grace through nested hair
to leave behind a trail
of tightly braided rows,
whispers
"Hush now, hush now.
It's all the ashes of a burnt up day."

Chainsaw on Cherry Wood

I find nothing beautiful
In the shredding sound
Of chainsaw on cherry wood.
Why do machines always seem
Angry?

By the end of the day
Another hole has opened in the sky.
No shelter -
No shelter -
No shelter from the blistering sun
Of this new age.

Even to trees death must come.

Are these the things
  that help old women
    lay down their arms and say
     
Good night?

On the Eve of Beginnings and Endings

Pause
Pause on the edge
Pause on the edge and look

Look
Look below
Look below to the valleys
Valleys and vistas
Valleys and vistas and winding rivers
Rivers that teem
Teem with the life of a thousand suns
A thousand suns and a thousand worlds
     and the moon as a compass

Now look up
Up to the heavens
The heavens that teem
Teem with the light of endless stars
Stars and clouds and the colors of space

Where numbers are meaningless
Only the infinite counts

Now pause
Pause and breathe
Breathe the valleys and vistas
Breathe the teeming rivers the thousand stars the cream of clouds

Carry the world in your heart
Carry the skies in your lungs

Now step into space

madness

we tell the same stories
over and
    over and
      over and
        over and
          under and
       under and
onto the rocks shores wells
deep
            as caverns
deep
           as devils
deep
           as canyons and conches and caterwauls
   and waterfalls
cascading lines of doggerrel can only go
so
far
the day we fell we fell
down
    from the summit
down 
   from the heavens
blue sky all why and wherefore
and intellect so circumspect
into
the pit
of mud
what worth can anyone make
of mud
but mud
and clay
  and homes
    and dreams
      and figurines
figurines that speak
                       like gods
and hear
                      like gods
silent and deaf
prayer after
    prayer after
         prayer
crashing like cataracts off boulders
over and
   over and
      over and
        over and
           over and
   under again
we pray the same prayers sing
the same hymns want
the same wants and fears and no one nears and
no one hears
over and
     over years
         upon years
            upon
hard clay ears

god is a desert all dried up