Standing on a Table holding a TV

That suture in my side 

Tells me I strained too hard.

Lifting that thing up,

Or was it twisting.

Could be either.

But I stood on top of that table

And hung that damn TV on the wall,

By myself.

But that table held me.

Let it Work

 A tiller is hard to control.

But it makes for new crops.

You just need to hold on and let it work.

Comparing Trails

Some people cross your path.

Some paths you tread have the same people.

We compare trails. 

When Your Children Take Things From You

Saving, Spending, Making, Lending.

Giving.

Time, Money, Self, Love.

Rent or Own, it's Mine.

Do we ever really own anything anyway?

Absconding quietly.

It would be worthless if it belonged to anyone else.

 

My Frio River

Mirrored glass water I see myself high up in this tree.

Your smile bright as the rocks, way down there where you sit.

Fish look up too.

Rope hung so high on cypress where I've climbed, I hadn't before seen everyone watching too.

I'm not scared.  At least they can't tell. Nor you, I think.

Or can't anyone see this worn out rope?

Rungs made of cut lumber at my head, heading up.  A new way.

I don't trust that rope, but I trust my hands.

Very much higher I climb, more gasps from below.

Every floater watches me high, blue sky and Baldy at my back.

River crystal green below, I step off and down I go.

The Lit Golden Open

All hail the dawn,

Harbinger of new

And open chance.

Get out there and go.

It lighted you up

Now a clear road calls.

Predators watch,

You speed by.

Reaping, passing

What you'd thought

Others had.

Swirled air behind you

Trees wave

In the Lit Golden Open

Nothing holds you back.

Night Fishing

Green jig

Silver spoon

White jig

Full moon

Live shad

Frozen shrimp

Wieners bad

Line limp

Big Red

Corn Flakes

Treble hooks

Boat wakes

Game Warden

Big lie

New beer

Stringer tie

Ice chest

Water dump

Line check

Sore rump

Clouds clear

Moon glow

Lake calm

Bats.

Air still

Bad joke

White bass

Chair broke

Dove coo

Coffee cup

Line yank

Drop cup

Grab rod

Fish jump

Hand numb

Head bump

Rod down

Hold tight

Blue cat

Good fight

Pink dawn

Turtles sun

Night fishing

Great fun.

Luke

An empty echo

Follows a bullet trace

And life exists, but with a peering blue eye.

Sound heard slower than life.

These grass stalks will be here 

Whether we're here or not.

And there stands an old man,

So smiling with thumb up.

Another whip, an echo,

Made from a bullet, sent from uphill, downhill.

"High left!!!" Thumb down. 

Standing there over the target.

Black sticker placed on a hole....

"OK Go!"

Another whip, then a boom.

A smile. A thumb up, Amidst the stalks, his stalks.

Commotion ensued up the hill with buggies and trucks, all coming down.

Binoculars just weren't enough.

A hole on orange.  Dust and grass in the air with gratified validation.

Beers drunk, overwhelming the pending matter of the morning hunt,

And all excuses removed.

Starbucks

Scents hold the time, everyday early.

Stir those old visions.

Tall marble, wool and silk and perfume,

coffee, makeup, paused impatience.

Brass clanging and used with full purpose.

Milk cartons, cups and subdued polite yelling.

Passing, coming and going and staying.

Back again, here again.

A creased hat holds pace for the queue.

And a name called with a wink moves the room along.

Permission it seems is given to this place.

To wait to start a day.

Early smiles are not the norm, we're in this together.

Toes tap and steps lift...

Scooting through a glass door paper chalice in hand.

My Friend Bob

He admitted he was quite perturbed with himself by by swallowing that minnow.

He thought it was just like the worm he stole last week.

When I reeled him in and pulled him up he said he was glad my hook was only on his lip.  He didn't take it personally.  Said most of his friends had been so rude. They pushed him and everybody away just to get the first bite and then they would just leave and not come back.

But now it was just him.  

Lo and behold, and God forsake he'd been tricked by that hook.  

He was croaking with disgust.

"Take it easy man" I said.  "I'm here with my kid and I don't have my license with me anyways.  I just want to show you to her". 

"Ah, OK well then let her hold me. I'll keep my fins down but I can't help the slime.  Don't let her drop me.  By the way, can you dip me in the water again please?"

I did, then with both hands I eased my grip and slid him over to the palms of my daughter, and he calmly laid still.  I could see the wonder on her face.

A few moments passed.  The toils of the day made to make this present moment possible shone to me like a ray from heaven.

"Let's name him Bob" my daughter said.

"Yeah that's a great name" I said, "Let's let Bob go back to his home now."  And with outstretched palms I hold Bob again lower to the water.

In the midst of the tranquil, a dart of an eye caught my own and a sudden wrath of flop and fin covered me with water and slime.

"Screw Yoooouuu!!!"....I could hear it in my mind as Bob somersaulted back to his water, his home.

Thanks, Bob. You were great and I'm glad I caught you. 

Please come back again.

Raza Cry (From The Plane Thief)

We see you  

We are trying to tell you

We know your fate

We know you try 

We talk….

Always 

Third Eye

Whatever the vast expanse around me I feel says or does not say, 

It has not removed me, I'm still here.

There are too many trees to shade me from an unyielding and burning sun.

What I can see takes in the Earth and all its God-hewn forms.

I love them for what they are, and I'm thankful too, God don't forget that.

But I'm on the lookout for a sign.

Maybe you can't tell by my third eye peers through all.

It only opens with a tell, a signal, a lie, a truth.  

And I don't need to try because what I need to see just appears on its own.

Having this is a thing which either keeps me aware that too much exposure can burn,

Or it can show me the light.

Either sight saves.

In the meantime I'm glad to be among trees,

Trying to save myself from working too hard at saving myself.

Windswept

I'm on the open plain, it's so silent here.

And where the sound of my surroundings once held my senses,

Now quiet resonates.

I hear myself more than I used to.

My own head is louder than the prairie.

And dove seem to keep my attention from my ever growing thirst,

And I care more about birds than water.

When realization comes that time whips through stalks of grass,

I pull a blade and bite down.

The thin distance of what I can see is as blur of purple and blue,

My eyes water.

With all what I knew yesterday blown away,

I squint to see while wind tells me things I should have heard all along.

Home

Fireflies mark the lines where neat cut st. augustine lies.

In front of what you know to be...

And bees are moving in the hollies working blossoms gently,

Using the sweet and heavy air.

Where the girth of the oaks has gotten wider than you remembered,

And dim lights glow to you while standing at the curb.

Come in, you're home.

Gills

The current and shade won't let me see you,

Down there where I know you are.

And I crouch here on the bank with my eyes held still.

Knowing you're down there, looking up.

So, I jump in.

I can't breathe but I soon figure out how.

And our world flows over, and tries to carry us away.

In an exchange of ideals and wills, we make a trade.

All while we've caught each other and given up the world we had.

To let it wash away while water fills our lungs.