Bathroom Bug

The bug on my bathroom wall
with a shoehorn head and knife-handle back
is bright red, bright toxic red,
a warning sign
flashing over a marsh.

Missing the next day,
but there he is back, slowly crawling
down near the baseboard,
then briefly caught in a web,
the single strand that grows
in the corner and collects dust.

I see him several days later,
then he doesn’t come back.

Hidden Ku

bitter ice
on the wind
mother’s wail

~

broken mirror
commits three images
one truth

~

sign reads
frog pond closed
where to go

~

nursery school
woodpecker teaches
suet feeding

~

plover probes
tide line
flood or ebb

~

twilight exhales
purple clouds
silk chemise

~

hermitage
remains empty
mosquito cares

Camel Dreams

Oh, you heard about that,
it really wasn’t my fault,
somebody put the camel there,
he didn’t fly in by himself.

Anyway, how am I supposed to know
camels shouldn’t eat chocolate?
I never professed to be
a camel expert, I never said

I like camels, even if this one
was polite and wanted to go
for a ride, and then
we needed a little snack,

and if you found a camel parked
next to a fudge factory
what would you think? Besides
nothing really bad happened,

the camel got a little tummy ache
that’s all, and so did I.

It Won’t Last

The sun rises warm under bright skies
and ignites the kitchen’s glass birds,
a morning breeze shivers the evergreens,
finches and blackbirds on the deck echo

their songs through the house,
even the neighbor dog quits yapping
and listens. The weather is good
but I’m not worried, it won’t last.

Sinister clouds slide in
from the harbor, swirl around
and cast a cold drizzle over the garden.
I hear water torture on the deck,

I feel like yesterday’s teabag,
like a homing pigeon with no place to go.
I give up seeking a pretext for contentment,
flop into the rocker with a beer

and rue the day the Bums left Brooklyn,
and the yapping dog.

Dear Leader

A leader without a following is just
a guy taking a walk, listening
to voices in a dream, listening
to music in his head, watching dancers

hop around on the grass. A leader
without a plan is just a mug
looking for something to do, listening
for change in the grass, watching fog

clear, scuttling around showing a wave
and grin. A leader without direction
is just a guy looking for sheep
to follow, looking for a parade

with a bigger band and more elephants,
skipping through the grass
looking for a place to hide.

Cosmic Ku

ocean swell
rolls to edge
stomps beach

~

sundogs
flare in clouds
coyote sky

~

shadow creeps
across playa
vulture waits

~

Glenn Canyon
consumes thought
and moonlight

~

desert twilight
rattlesnake buzz
shifts focus

~

dawn or dusk
wax or wane
coyote lopes

~

petrified wood
buried in mud
never fingered

Good Swallows

Good swallows laugh at the sky, tease the winds
with pirouette flips and feather tip spins,
never know spring soil under foot
or the night cat's warmth,
do not swim among fishes
or sing with whales,
are still good swallows.

Raven Song

In First Days, when mountains dried and cooled,
and before Moon was born, Raven had a voice
of water and ice, and sang like spring
flowers. Salmon in the ocean heard Raven
and swam towards the song.

Coyote had the voice of disorder and trouble,
but wanted to charm Salmon too.
Coyote put Frog on his head and went to visit
Raven. Coyote came to Raven’s tree
and poked Frog, who called out a high pitch
kreck-ek, kreck-ek.
Raven was surprised by Coyote-Frog and opened
his beak wide. Coyote reached in deep
and took Raven’s voice, then dashed to the mountains
and hid near Straight Trees River.

Raven was distressed to lose his voice,
all he thought of was dead trees and turtle bones.
Frog said he would be Raven’s voice
and jumped into Raven’s throat.
Raven tried his frog-voice, but Raven is bigger
than Frog and the voice became a deep
brronk, brronk.
Now Raven sings like a corncob.

Next night Coyote tried his raven-voice,
it sounded like wind and rocks. Coyote did not sing
like Raven, but Salmon heard the song and swam
upriver to the mountains.

When Moon was new he heard Coyote sing
and peeked over the mountains to see who made
such a noise. Coyote got confused and sang
the Many Voices song. Moon laughed at Coyote
and went behind the mountains again.

Seven Rivers Mountain pulled a snow
blanket over his head and went to sleep
forever.

Bait

Feathers and fur, flash and glitter,
tied to a barbed hook
in tempting patterns, schemes
to invite attention, it’s just bait,

a token of favored prey, a lure
to easy sex, catch-and-release love.
The token pitches across riffles,
sinks between rocks, and comes back

tarnished and chewed, forgot,
couldn’t, didn’t set the hook.
The old bait pushes to the back,
to the dark movies, where recalled

lures are flipped without invitation
for amusement, provocation,
the games are slower
and the stakes are yesterday.

Happy Ku

breakers plunge
ocean dust
drips from trees

~

blackberries ferment
on brambles
drip purple dreams

~

Black Rock playa
dust devils
dance naked

~

sandpiper
skitters down beach
picks lunch

~

wine glasses
twice emptied
bedtime story

~

morning bright
showers pasture
meadowlark

~

autumn mizzle
chills the garden
second cup

Itchy

Kim Jong-il v George Bush


I have a sore under my hide,
the itchy little thing feels
like it’s burning. I buy lizard goo
at a snake oil shop

to cool off the hot little obsession.
Scratching feels good,
I finger on the snaky goo,
scratching feels better.

I break the skin, get a rash,
infection erupts
into inflamed abscess,
and doesn’t scab over,

the lizard goo isn’t working.
The hot little obsession needs
a serious cure. I buy a lucky charm
and a dear little prayer flag.

Country Ku

this is not
state route 95
where are we

~

on dusty road
horses pass
road apples

~

bailed hay
in new mown field
Red-tail perch

~

quail watches
on fence post
twenty in weeds

~

hedgerow borders
daisy filled pasture
Holsteins blend in

~

red barn
with white trim
show house

~

road forks
three miles down
go left or right

Common Bush Snake

This bland and tasteless reptile,
a parasite that deceives prey
by posturing on exposed pedestals,
appears strong and important.

A close relative of false lizards,
the parasite mimics alarm calls,
warns of imaginary and nonexistent perils,
scavenges undigested game and earnings

released by duped victims. Also,
the reptile attaches to land sharks,
feeds on discarded scraps, rotting flesh,
excess and unearned profits. When revealed

the dodgy reptile flaps and flails around
to create a dust storm of confusion,
then slithers away from distracted defenders
to a hiding place behind patrons.

Avoid the Common Bush Snake,
it’s difficult and expensive to remove.

Small Bowl of Soup

Bare trees ripple in the night air,
on a winter street’s reflecting pools
rainwater flickers, from the chilling dark
I turn to an empty noodle shop

and ask for curry chicken, in dim light
I consider ancient poems
that quiet my center, the counter girl
brings a small bowl of soup I didn’t order.

White Bird

Walking a wetland trail
I’m taken aback
by a skinny white bird
vaulting from the tules,

scrawny lags dangling,
hoarse squawking,
white plumes fluttering,
at first I thought it was me.

Story Ku

autumn weather
retells old tale
squirrel turns leaf

~

cat reads
journey poem
shoe

~

sign reads
rattlesnakes
stay on trail

~

field mouse
studies book
thinks nest

~

pickup expenses
bookkeeper reads
between lines

~

sandpipers spot
vacant mudflat
continue south

~

graveyard
speaks history
in whispers