wisconsin is so sad in summer …

like a lying lover

she wont believe

he’s true

she cuts off her shorts

& plays water sports

but doesn’t know just

quite what to do?

she wants to believe his promises

hot days & warm nite moons

but deep down inside

she aches & writhes

knowing he’ll be gone

& soon

but fall brings out her very best!

such a handsome man!

cider & hay rides

letter-sweater pride

& crisp walks

holding hands

her cheeks go ruddy & burn hot red

when she feels his cool caress

his touches thrill; rush & a chill

thru her brightest-colored dress

the players

her yellows begin as tufts & streaks

lone spots, splashes & dots

gold-brushed hedges

& lipstickd edges

climbing trees

to peak tiptops

her yellows take on cadmium hues

shy lemon

& citron canary

neon banana

hot honey

tan mana

& no.2 pencil

blaring

her yellows taste like summer sun

golden delicious & sweet

radiant lit

tart & crisp

cool crunching

sheets

her yellows paint entire lanes

curb to sky, long & deep

& gaudy school busses

spilling out cusses

for once camouflaged

can creep

her yellows twitch

like flame licks

aloft hilltops

like torches

fresh from a match

they dance & catch

in ferocious

forest fire scorches

bold gold pillars

streak to the sky

yellow pyramids

stand on their heads

big pools sprawl deep

heap up & steep

& the ground sleeps

in big yellow beds

yellow clouds

lift from the ground

& hang right there

in the air

yellow rising

a whole horizon

a billion gold pixels

times square’d

showers flash

& heaven’s riches

rain in gold

on down

copper flakes

& coins

spinning wakes

free for all

& piled high

on the ground

…

autumn turns her greens jealous

& reminiscent for summer & spring

greens put on proud airs

selfish to share

yearning & envious

once king

fresh greens flaunt

& wax nonchalant

flourishing

fervid & strong

& resilient greens

& holding on greens

grip tight

in the pines & to lawns

till begrudging greens give & relent

& defeated greens melt away

& somber greens sulk

beneath yellows’ hulk

& only then do greens join the parade

…

her reds explode with violence

hot fresh rips

shreds & slashes

strips drip nigh

& bleed from the sky

in splashing

vermillion

gashes

her reds gleam in choke cherry

& waxy poison apple shine

raw red fire engine

screams unrelenting

syrah spills

& leaves merlot

lines

her reds smolder

to cinnamon rust

paprika & chili

ground coarse

smoky rouge

& rose petal hues

like burgundy

& jugs of port

her maples don

long scarlet gowns

her staghorn

pluck crimson jewels

oaks turn to rubies

elms sparkle moody

& unravel

in red threaded spools

…

her pinks suck sweet life

out of her reds

like vampires

draining the dying

siphoned drops & belts

pulled pale, that melt

to svelte slight pink

light shining

her pinks are perky & pretty

soft salmon blossom

embossing

pert petal bells

peal’d pearls & shells

sweet as cupcake

cream frosting

…

her oranges descend in parachutes

like sweet fruit

accrued & in bloom

skylines preach peach

with apricot leafs

on melon plumed avenue

afternoons

her oranges appear

in oriole feathers

monarch wings

& sharp roadwork cones

her hunter orange blaze

shoots sunset rays

frozen in saffron

toned shows

orange trick-or-treats in jelly beans

candy corn

& fat taffy vats

reese cup wrappers

grinning jackolanterns

& creeping creamscicle cats

no color is prouder

in autumn than orange

it finally has its say!

orange eats acres thru

burns trees carrot hues

& every last pumpkin

gets its day

in the mix

trees that once waded in puddles

of dark-shadow blue & black null

… are now tiled under

in mosaics of color

green orange pink red

& yellow

orange falls & shrivels in rising sheets

like fresh hot-baked pie crust

& beneath

congealing

is a green filling

just awaiting fork holes

to steam gust

green willows cry

yellow streak tears

yellow gets smudged

with green lines

lime, lemon-tipped?

or yellow, green-dipped?

chartreuse is when she

wont make up her mind

yellow forests roll

over green hills

& green trees top

yellow-leaf lacquer

a theme & an ode

great green & gold

& that is why god

made the packers

orange bushes simmer

spiced golden

red vines climb

brown brick links

chimney plumes choke

tufts of lavender smoke

oaks think purple

& sunsets go pink

pinks weathered brittle

melt yellow

red turns translucent

orange-veined

brown greens

& green browns

make purple sounds

& purple

tasting pink

remembers green

blue & white

shine clean & bright

in tree trunks

& clouds that drift by

birch & aspen lines

& slender pines climb

to white moons

in cerulean skies

Deep Color

every last tuft & puff

plume & burst

is color

heaped up in layers

bright puzzle pieces collide

with crisp creases

as color swells

everywhere

color in dabs

& double daubs

dribbles

dropped

& marbled miens

mismatcheds merge

in bold-braided blurs

like the best

of impressionist scenes

patchwork color

is stitched & sewn

into thick quilts

newly delivered

color thrown over trees

with the first freezing breeze

to warm them at night

when they shiver

colorful patches

on branches

in batches

rise round

as hot air balloons

& full trees

still with all their leaves

stand proud

as all their friends swoon

color parasols

snap open & up

color domes

arching, on high

streets grab pompoms

to shake color aplomb

lining avenues

on both sides

all summer’s color

horded stockpiled

in bits & saved up

for months

color spent to amaze

in one dying blaze

fireworks fired days

all at once

& that is why god made the browns

& then it is a brown-scale world

as death makes her first

lively rounds

leaves trickle steady

dry rusty confetti

peanut butter bits bob

orange & brown

golden landscapes

baked like pancakes

& crisp crustd

roast almond scenes

a kiln-toasted haze

of melted beige glaze

murmuring

burnt-umber

praline

then flat dead grey

eats days away

strips shrubs

& leaves

naked trees

grey chews clouds & sky

& sucks landscapes dry

& the whole world

goes white in one freeze

- end –

’the groundhog on the mountain did not run

but fatly scuttled into the splayed fern

& faced me, back to a ledge of dirt

to rattle her sallow teeth

like castanets’

- sylvia plath

... the marmot’s a wretched varmint

a scheming rascal thief

a crooked conning

cunning klepto

& a larcenous little beast

he is a byways hijacker

a shameless junkie filcher

a bold & shameless rat’keteer

a pure purloining pilferer

a terrible tundra terror

a fat dastardly scalawag

a meaty mischievous miscreant

the cagey dregs

of the crags

a chirping vulture, circling

a precocious rapscallion prig

a scoundrel

called the ‘rock chuck’

& sometimes too

the ‘whistle pig’

plump & dumpy

stocky stumpy

rotund & low slung

20 pounds of lumbering lusting

wretched, waddling hun

the groundhogs’ greedy cousin

an overgrown guinea pig

parts pika beaver wombat

the squirrel’s bastard king

the life

his coat is thick, long & coarse

chocolate brown & red gray

bushy & white frosted

belly’s yellah, like they say

he wears coats

like horsemen cloaks

head high, naked & bare

buck-toothd jaws

long dirty claws

& beady black eyed glares

he lives upon, under, beneath

beside & throughout the rocks

in elaborate communal mazes

he heads harem herds & flocks

dank dark dirty deep dug dens

beneath broad boulder piles

grass-lined lairs

snared trophy wares

& escape tunnels

styled with guile

he cuts sod plugs

for tunnels dug

to close his many doors

winter locks them cold

with ice & snow

& he lets go

an eight month snore

& then he is stuck

& out of luck

till warm spring returns again

burning pacing yearning

in his dirty little pen

super hungry

he emerges

consumed by hunger

a wild starving beast

chews & bores thru melting doors

& heads out to hills to feast

he eats like a demon dervish

mad wild blind

possessed

winters roar long

oer summers’ song

throughout

the mountain west

he chomps with sheer abandon

on anything close to green

branches & moss

chutes & lichen floss

he gnaws off

the whole live scene

foraged frantic

grains & grasses

exhumed legumes & roots

seeds & nuts

gobbled gluts

untarried by unripe fruit

he chews thru crops & farm fields

all succulent new green flesh

he’d gladly eat an outfield

he digs sweet clover best

he loves fresh flowers & sweet buds

pollen & petals, leaves, stamens & stems

he ravages them … massacres

& then eats all their friends

he is not selective

he shows no mercy

when he eats

just mows to the ground

stubs, cut down

wreaking ravage

bare & bleak

a day in the life

summer is for digesting

grooming

preening

& chirping

leisurely lazy

waddling

grazing

& sunning

like butter dripping

he slow surveys surroundings

proud perches

crisp alpine scenes

& come owls & hawks

bears, martins & fox

for the rocks!

he whistles & flees

but come hiking humans?

whistle pigs make different sounds

chirp signals swell

like dinner bells

& now

marmots abound

plotting, slyly slinking

they come mum

trotting & bounding

like sharks with no fear

whole waves appear

& veer near

surrounding

they come direct like mendicants

on the path

with upraised palms

emboldened

& paws folded

pleading shameless

begging alms

they stand tall

high, on hind legs

or haunch humbly hoping

a hunch

& thank you

oh so kindly, too

for bringing them

their lunch

they have no fear of photos

mugging poses - aww too cute!

so long as you don’t mind

… relax recline

while they chew on your boot!

the raid

& heaven help those they meet

whose camps remain unguarded

marmots will eat

& eat

in olympian feats

& leave no treat

un-marmot-marred’ed

they drift in, noses twitching

searching sniffing

scouting snacks

then return at night

by moonlight

to raid tents

& knapsacks

unstuffable

voracious

insatiable

shameless

they galavant

dismember shred chew

& leave a thousand clues

like tornadoes blew

thru camp

jonesin

a junky is a junky is a junky

& marmots are the very worst

they crave salt … crazed

in ways way depraved

like camels & cacti thirst

saline rined

sodium & brine

embalmed

or the slightest trace

they lose their minds

blind swines a’vie

addicted to the taste!

SALT

they stop at nothing.

unquenchable & enslaving

withdrawal achings

& hankerings

hellbent

sating cravings

& the greatest possible flavor

to savor, above the rest?

things soaked profuse

with new brewed juice

sluiced from hard hike sweats

sopping t-shirts are tops

dripping drenched

still soaked from treks

the most flavorful bits?

sleeves & armpits

& salt-stained

collars & necks

jackets & ponchos & parkas

sweaters sodden with smoke

perspiration cured

& campfire preserved

aspen soy sauce soaked

perfectly pickled

pungent pant pockets

pack-percolated

& still stewing

delectable denim

like dill & fennel

just be careful of zippers

when chewing

marinated boxers & underwear

zing

pungent

fishy & sour

an acquired taste

but tragedy to waste

such delectable delights to devour

no sight is sweeter than a clothesline

pinned long with succulent socks

spirits uplift

at the sight of such gifts

like bonbons

in a row

in a box

brow sweat bandannas

are aperitifs

snacks or folded hors d’eouevers

marvelous great prequels

& also great sequels

however thus

they may be served

backpacks are four-course endeavors

shells liners pouches & flaps

goretex & fleece

each piece by piece

but tastiest of all

are the straps

hiking pole grips like jerky

so too, snowshoe rawhide

leather patches & gloves

tenderized with love

like beef & ocean

pan-fried

soft sleeping pads are chewy

& seasoned by hot night

beget sweats

then sun roasted scents

steam thru the vents

accenting the vinaigrettes

beersoaked campchairs are stringy

travel guide maps just a bit dry

footballs are a blast

but beware leaking gas

they taste like exploding surprise

tissue & towels for fiber

greasy napkins

quickly digest

wrappers & labels

whenever you're able

not so delish

but do go down best

beat up ballcaps are luscious

a medley: soft sweatbands, stiff brims

knit caps are nice, like salads on ice

crunchy straw hats to munch on a whim

but the bloody porterhouse sirloin?

best vintage wine & sweetest fruit?

rarest of rare? beyond all compare?

is smelly old

(…freshly worn)

boots

earthy like freshest mushrooms

& steaming moist

like a strudel

for texture - the soles

to spit - the eyeholes

laces like pasta noodles

for beverages

to wash it all down

dish water rinse

makes great desert

when flung from the pan

just hunt were it lands

& eat the soaked gravel & dirt

another fine bubbly is urine

nothing refreshes

like the best of pee

streaming trickles

& golden tinkles

worst case

lick it up off the tree

but!

one last caveat. do beware

(or wretch vomit & grope)

sick in the stomach?

& ache & hurt from it?

… do NOT drink dr.brenner’s soap

’… then Moses went up

from the plains of Moab, to Mount Nebo

the peak of Pisgah which faces Jericho

& the LORD showed Moses

all the land - Gilead, far as Dan

all Naphtali, land of Ephraim & Manasseh

all of Judah, far as the Western Sea

the Negeb & the valley of Jericho, City of Palms

- far as Zoar.

then the LORD said to him,

’This is that which I promised, on oath

to Abraham, Isaac & Jacob.

I have let you see it with your own eyes

but you shall not cross over.

So there, in the land of Moab

Moses, servant of the LORD, died

[Deuteronomy 34:1-5]

life is good for marmots, these days

& a new treat has hit the radar

hard to believe

even for these thieves

but some now chew on

… cars?!

they scuttle up, circle the tires

climb to the engine beneath

& once under the hood

sniff out what’s good

grab a bib

& kick off the feast

bitten belts & gnawed hoses

chomped oil & brake lines too

spark plugs & wires

craved & desired

they even drink washer fluid blue!

but from time to time, on occasion

too consumed eating, to escape

marmots hear the doors slam

& with no exit plan

just buckle in

for where the road takes

hundred of miles of freeway

asphalt fast whizzing below

what are they doing?

(probably chewing)

but onward & onward they go

the afterlife … & end

one marmot, famously

perched on inside

till the driver stopped

at an REI store

for a brief moment

he saw shop doors open

(then serpentine belts

choked him to gore;

alternator-crushed

jellied by pullies

he snapped belts

& cracked the pumps

his corpse was mangled

ground up & tangled

hair radiator baked

in singed clumps)

… but his eyes pried wide

inside, before he died

(neck snapped precise;

twice & viced thrice)

& before his last breath

& he was claimed by death

he caught a glimpse of

PARADISE

REI’s doors split

pearly-parting gates

& he saw deep & far

thru the store

doors flung open wide

with a whooshing glide

& inside

from ceiling to floor

shelf after shelf

displays & glass cases

all great tastes

of cuisine lore!

acres & acres

everything sacred

& here he was

on heaven’s shore!

so THIS

is where all good things

come from!

the source of all good

& all glory!

then he tried to reach

cross that hallowed breech …

but that is the end of the story

- end -

All the new thinking is about loss.

In this, it resembles all the old thinking.

‘Meditation at Lagunitas’

by Robert Haas

... believe half of what you see

& some or none of what you hear

while the truth is always free

it is very rarely clear

there's a lot of nasty bitches

& too much proud wicked hate

& life deals hands, you cant win

but you still have to sit & play

deep down, most men are cowards

& everybody's weak

& the best advice, so they say

is turn the other cheek?

family fuck you the most

the most

worse than any foe

but they are still better

than most people you know

loneliness is daily

& most of life is pain

& consider yourself lucky

if you ever find a friend

most schooling is nonsense

most bosses have no clue

the government does not care

big business knows

youre a fool

hard work doesn’t really pay

it’s mostly a distraction

what pays are connections

& you do not have them

run fast & far as you want

& you still wont touch the end

even the best men

taste dread

treading water

tired & spent

all ambition is quick sand

discipline just makes more work

most labor is a waste of time

& most prayer is way way worse

jealousy is very real

& she is a whore

& no matter what you suffer

she'll always lust for more

all of your possessions

house, cars, clothes & tools

all those things

you think you own

really all own you

your money cannot save you

even god cant change your fate

& everything you ever loved

will die & fade away

... & still we got it better

than plants & fish & birds

just because we writers

own all the words for hurt

we imagine all the stories

& tell all the best lies

like sacrifice & love

resurrection & paradise

we got sorrow for our blues

& drama to fill our lines

& we know that grapes

never tortured

can never make fine wine

- end -

she dreamt

of walking on land

up, where the people are

but alas she had a tail

bright-scaled

& lungs

which didn’t breath air

day in day out

day after day

she dreamt

& wished & longed

& her kingdom

of sea creatures

brought her

no joy at all

& so she traded her sweet soul

to an old nasty wicked witch

& awoke on land

with legs in hand

all girl

no longer fish

...

she tripped

she fell

she stumbled

- like a girl

first-learning heels

& tumbled

into the arms

of a prince

too handsome

to be real

she fell in love

he loved her back

he taught her

how to talk

he swept her up

with tender touch

& she danced

before she walked

he taught her

all of his world

fire & smoke

& endless sky

wings that fly

clouds swimming by

& how things can be dry

they fell in love

shared kisses

promises

& hopes

& dreams

and there

beneath the moonlite

she knew

he’s the one for me

…

come with me

the prince said

i’ll show you

round the town!

& took her

to the best restaurant’s

best table

& sat her down

your eyes are so beautiful

he said over candlelight

he clasped her

shoreline soft

hands

& held them close

rock tight

the waiter

brought a platter

she smelled lemon

& butter too

she eyed her plate

nervously

& picked up

her fork & spoon

& there

beneath the lid

she found

...

her crab & fish friends!

but she just dug in

& smiled

theyre delicious, she said

- end -