My Sack of Suns

My Sack of Suns

I buried a sack of suns

hoping a hungry dog

or cat

searching for mislaid mice

might dig it up.

But my bed of seeds

gold petals of yellow roses

bloomed anyway;

yellow roses

framing the yard

my porch

my window frame

my reading nook,

too fragrant to ignore.

The Other Sidewalkers

The shadows of the other

sidewalkers

were like derby dogs,

rushing so fast

getting ready

to be brusque

about accidentally

brushing my shoulders—

like dogs running

to a dinner table

with leftover pieces

of meat and crumbs of feast

scattered for their salivating chops.

Actually, to be kind,

more like dogs

attempting to be civilized

in upright humanoid

poses,

but not hiding

even in their shadows

they rushed to dinner

and the free side dishes

under the table.

They seemed to carry

raw steaks

in their briefcases and back packs,

their heads shadowing me,

bobbing up and down

dogs at the gate to the house

with the untidy dinner table

forgetting the cache

they already carried at their sides

and on their backs.

Dandelions

I like to trip up the tulips

cross the roots

of coordinated plantings.

But my bright juandice

rubs off on cheeks

and lawn mower blades

getting treated

to the latest poison—

not to ruin

the tulips’ bed.

The marble-framed front door

I’ve crept around

practicing deft

avoidance of pesticides,

surrounding the sculptured

front door, the landscaped

garden paths.

I Walked to the Edge

I walked to the edge

until the branch

was weighed down, the blossoms

at the end

crushed under

my feet.

Some blossoms

had closed back up

in a late spring

out of season

freeze.

Others lasted

until the moment

I walked

to the end of the bough

I indulged in.

I walked to the edge

looking over

the ready-to-snap

edge of summer

bough

watching the remnants

of a garage sale

transacted

in the grass beneath me.

A mirror with seashells

lay flat

on its back

reflecting me,

at the bough’s climax

towards the earth,

pointing me out

before I fell.

Elephants Have…

Elephants have

elephant dust

I don’t have to

kill them for.

Who needs

tusks

when you can take

elephant dust?

It’s more substantial

than pixie

or sawdust

and aids

memory,

concentration

and stampedes.

Preparing for 2012

When the seams

come loose from the moon

the stars will get thrown back

and the morning

will see out-of-light

stars on the ground,

stalking the vegetable garden.

The good part

about the moon coming apart

is it’s hard to go to work

with star and celestial orb

debris

littering the roads.

Fill the Saucer of the Sun

Fill the saucer of the sun

when you see it

with imagination spears

of self-made

burn-shine.

To be burned

by what you see inside

yourself

is as painful as rawhide

winter feet

on August beach,

but the shine stays

longer than seeing nothing

but smoothed-down shade.

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