The Gushen Grove Sonnets

By Mike Garofalo

1. Listening to Change

I listened to another say
what I resisted to hear
what was alien to me
what outlined my ire
what I wanted to fight

But then I settled down
loosened my blockhead mind

Thought things over patiently,
listened more carefully,
saw matters from other sides,
respected the integrity
and sincerity of other kinds

Of thinking outside my closed boxes
of my habits of opinions needing overhaul.

2. The Bottom Line

"Caress the detail, the divine detail."
    - Vladimir Nabokov
“We think in generalities, but we live in details.”
    - W. H. Auden
"The idea of one overbearing truth is exhausted."
    - Thomas Mann
“A profound attention to the details of this world.”
    - George Levine
“Cherish the minutes heureuses.”
    - Charles Baudelaire
“The vast and unsuspected reality of small things
    - Robert Nozick
“We are better satisfied in particulars.”
    - Wallace Stevens
"God is in the details." - Mies Van Der Rohe

“Details are all there are.” - Maezumi Roshi
“Focus on small worlds of order.” - Paul Valery
“No ideas but in things." - William Carlos Williams
"In general, be more spedific." - Mike Garofalo

    "To study the self is to forget the self.
    To forget the self is to be enlightened
    By the ten thousand things."
         - Zen Master Dogen

The Bottom Line

3. Details on Details, Zoom In

The endless treasures of the everyday,
the uncommonness of common things;
Ordinary mind does point the way
to unspoken wonders of myriad beings.

Whether a leaf, the moon, a plastic spoon,
or a shoe, an eye, an infant's cry;
the endless parade, zoom out, in zoom,
Details on details, thick, piled high.

Cellular seedpods pulsing pure time,
Flowering brains clone families of minds
that revel in thinking to the Infinite edge,
agog over life, and love of knowledge.

Whether, a quasar, a hand, a DNA strand,
Fantastic journeys in the Minds of Millions.

Flowers in the Sky

4. Poetry: New Under the New...
A Frame of Someplace

When and where was the poem born?
Not by the shores of Potholes reservoir
but out of the Clam cracked open by the Raven?
The poem spoke of itself much more
but poetry is Not, seemingly, unclaimed

Not the proper subject of the poem itself,
but the mystical magic of well born Words

Revealing something New under the New
words torn from Stevens' soul Supreme
Non-Fictions imagined in Connecticut,
or from fishing on a Florida boat,
or served up by the Queen of Sour Cream;

The poem contains a touch of mystery,
a pound of flesh, a frame of someplace.

5. More Images, Less Fluff

In 2000 time, a former colleague of mine
mailed me an anthology of Imagist poetry.
In 1913 time, Pound and Addington chimed:
nouns not adjectives, directness like tea,

ample individuality, precise exact words,
don’t do this or that, focused on the facts,
down to earth, pointed, a tough sharp Axe,
real, modern, urban, fresh, clear, fast.

They did not favor Rhymes most of the time
coz it was buzz love fuzz above outdoes
their calls for hard direct expression above
the rattle and skip-step of sounds abuzz.

Advocates for the perfect photograph in words.
Snapshots, Directshots, captured Blackbirds.

6. Fumble Fingers

Of things mechanical
I've little ken,
I fumble and fuss
from start to end.

Where a mechanic
pushes right
I pull left till
things stick-tight.

Bending things
I shouldn't bend,
unfortunately,
till they ain't right.

It's just so, so it is,
fumble fingers my fate it is.

7. The Bellies of Chevies

Gleaming Gas Pumps in the fluorescent night.
Silent Slaves of the Almighty Dollars,
Pouring high-priced high-octane gallons
Into the bellies of Chevies.

Ding! Ding! Gallons go down.
Wallets open and fold.
Customers piss, buy coffee, stretch and go.
Less waiting lately from more oil embargoes.

Headlights come and go, flashing
By the drying Lakes of Petro.
Acid fogs melt steel-belted moons.
Smog smothers a baby soul.

A Dead End ahead, everywhere,
For US, for OPEC, for Fords. Beware!

8. Will Cherished Ideals Survive

No Guarantees that to the End
Our cherished ideals will survive,
Our great great grandchildren will thrive,
Our monuments stand ...
             Our guarantees?

This tree my great great grandmother planted,
This dog-eared Leaves of Grass on my desk,
This classic folksong on my breath,
This heirloom apple in my hand ...

             This day,
             no guarantees
             for or against.
             Good!    So we strive on,
Their and our hopes in our hands now.

9. Dreams of Gertrude Jekyll's
Munstead Wood Garden

My plush green oversized chair
held my big body up in the air
as I stared out the side window
admiring my evergreen jardin lindo
thinking of design ideas

slipping into a lazy nap
dreampt of imaginative gardens

wandering by Monet's Lilly pond
amazed by Merwin's huge Palm garden
impressed by Hass's Apples in Olema
stunned by the Ryoan-Ji Rock garden
impressed by Jekyll's Munstead Wood

Then, I awoke, with a start,
walked outside and watered.

10. Duplicate Webpages Not Loading

At midnight came the light
boxes of text in webpages so heavy
Word Press up and running tonight
shining rainbow graphics say it's ready
to beam up by FTP, webpages Up

Websites multiply like mosquitoes
cold Tick-Tok posts on bare kitchen tables

Poems by Billy Collins rearranged
random dog-baby interactions
Warhol's duplicating tomato photo pots
filled with red MAGA cap's hot frost
bigger women build a Brick House

Facebook not loading in the Mohave
Deserts of blank Internet emptiness

[Garofalo Sonnet Form:
5 2 5 2: Quintain Couplet Quintain Couplet]

11. A Game of Words Working

Can one play chess without a Queen?
Can one play soccer without a ball?
Can we think without using words?
Can we Be without the All?

One idea-thing stands on Many Things.
Part and parcel ain’t enough it seems
to satisfy the Whole Purists in any scene.
Gestaltist's try to clarify what they mean.

Take something away, something new stays.
Change the Rules, a fresh game ensues.
Play with a handicap, no Queen for you.
Draw a picture and just view and stew.

A web of the uses of words in daily life
Entangles our understandings. Right?

12. Flags Hang at Half-Mast

Patriotism ripens till rotten
and the Stink of Revenge
Perfumes the victory prayers
or pathetic platitudes intoned.

Flesh falls from bones.
Sons become tombstones.
Mothers moan, Fathers groan.
Broken hearts in empty homes.

The military graveyard
needs mowing now—
not a soul in sight
until after midnight.

America Attacks—
flags hang at half-mast

13. The Pokeweed Sutra

I saw the sunflower
tall by the railroad tracks
where Ginsberg and Kerouac laughed,
and heard the horn of an oncoming train
and passed a joint of seedy pot

Dazed-dozed-stoned on cannabis contented
marveled at the big clumps of green pokeweed

A common weed with a
reputation of toxicity;
like human beings gripped by greed,
or mercenaries killing for drugs and green money,
or politicians lying through their dirty teeth;

but, while intoxicated on Weed, injuring their heartbeat;
they ignored the advice of the Buddhist's Fifth Precept.

14. Crash, Smashed!

In a Bakersfield tule fog we huddled indoors
waiting
for Hwy 99 to clear for travel.
Hopefully, we could safely go on to Fresno;
after that blinding opaque fog unraveled.

I had listened to tales from my nephew, a cop,
    and read about
999 fatal accidents on Hwy 99, and scores more
in the Ag-Cities of the San Joaquin Valley
    over many decades past.

In 1974 it became personal!
We were notified:
that my Grandmother Blaize, age 89,
    had been run over and Killed
by a drunk driver on a Fresno night.
Her crushed bloody body found under a car
    outside of a Church dance hall.

At Grandma’s closed casket funeral in Fresno,
the family all quiet, mourning, still—
We silently said our goodbyes.
Grandma Blaize on our minds till we too die.

Whether it’s James Dean smashed in a crash,
or Mabel Blaize run over by a drunk,
car drivers and cars and fogs are killers.
We know the risks, face the facts, shudder.

15. Vampires in the Hoh Forest

The Town of Forks hosts Vampires,
teenage blood suckers on the night prowl, and
teenage Werewolves howling, running fast.
Humans afraid of these creatures’ wrath.

Human, not so human, called by the Night,
confused, resisting, teenagers losing the fight
against inner demons and lusty needs
and ordinary life with real human beings.

Many beings eat, fight and kill to survive;
wily, tricky, stealthy, with a hunter’s pride.
The Horned God has history on his side.
From our Hungers there is no place to hide.

Hungers keep us all on the Edge,
ready to amorally pounce from a hedge
and slaughter or harvest creatures just ahead.
We are all Vampires rising from the dead.
Its said,
Living and dying scenes in a vivid Red.

16. Valentine's Day Knocked on the Door

I am gifted memories
so that I might see
a vase of yellow roses
in dreary February.

Valentine's Day knocked hard on our wood door.
She laughed at the the card I bought from the store.
Dried yellow roses in a Chinese vase by the door.
I tried very hard not to be such a bore.

Our pleasant chat went well, I thought;
very grounded, very friendly— Hot!
Beckoning us both to Lust's Bonfire Blaze
burning a white hole in Valentine's day.

Later, she turned to leave, and all was well.
She left for work; and that broke the Spell.

17. Candles Burning Bright

You shared the spark,
You fanned the flame,
You fed the fires,
You passed the Names.

For all those known,
For all those unnamed,
We raise this Toast
With thanks this day.

May your days be pleasant,
May your love unfold,
May your community hold,
May our Earth be loved, and

Please, do good for others,
Promptly, for our time is measured cold.

18. Golfo de las Américas

King T commanded everyone to say
"Gulf of America" Not "Gulf of Mexico"
No matter what all the maps might display.
Better, Gulf of the Americas, si o no.

King T fires employees every day
Especially if you get in his way.
He knows well about bankruptcy,
Fraud, lies, legalese; so others can't see.

King T Orders: Open the Valves
Tap the "unlimited water" from
Canada and the Northwest.
Unlimited water is a myth.

King T is the Commander in Chief,
Head Honcho, President. Good grief!

19. Homework: Home and Work

Standing, sitting, lying down
always moving up and down.
Looking, feeling, listening now;
smelling tasty cornbread chow.

Two good arms and handy hands
triple the powers of ordinary man.
Combining with machines set right
we can be productive day and night.

Reading novels or playing games.
Listening to jazz being played.
Watching detailed TV travel docs.
Falling asleep at eleven o’clock.

Dreamt about the Big Problems at Work!
Suddenly! Woke Up! Yuck, Homework!

20. Stopping in Coos Bay

Over the McCollough Bridge way
I just arrived to play in Coos Bay.
Going today to my yurt camp
at Sunset Bay on Arrago Way.

As expected on a February day
rain on the roads, fog over the bay.
The winter air and brisk wind
chilled my bones and fingers thin.

The buildings were glazed green-gray
from moss, mists, fogs and rain
showing their dusty logging days
when the deep-sea cargo ships came.

I walked out on the bouncing dock walks;
gazed at the big McCollough Bridge a lot.

Smiled at the fishermen passing by;
sipped a cafe mocha; wistful, sighed.

21. Breathing In...Breathing Out

Negative tides expose the rocks
King tides close the docks,
sea coming in, unceasing
sea going out, predictably.

Breathing In, Breathing Out
Essential, Quintessential

Of all living beings all about:
birds in sky, fish in lakes,
snails on greens, monkeys in trees,
girls in cafes on Fourth Plain,
yogi's in robes on Thanksgiving Day.

Breathe and Move, Move and Be.
Can't move? Can't Breathe? Deadly!

22. Awakening: Wednesday, 2/5/2025, 3:33 am

From the depths of my restless shallow sleep
My crusty eyes fluttered and blinked so slow
My fine dream scenes disappeared like snow
Melting on Rem Mountains wide and steep

I tried to remember those passing fancies
those jumbled meandering dreamlike flashes
those jerks and shudders over things fantastic
those jagged memories flowing fast

I stirred and stretched and opened my eyes
my mouth was a cotton ball of spit all dry
my back ached again on that damn left side
the bed creaked as I shifted where I lie

Too early to get up, turn on the lights, and read?
Or, fall back asleep, and birth more dream seeds?

23. The Ringing Gong

my zazen was writing
pencil in hand
sitting still for minutes
    no special breathing
        just moving my hand

Holding my eyes fixed on a Stellar Jay
sitting on the top of the wooden back gate

Opened the Gateless Gate,
    creaking hinges sang,
a narrow passage opened;
    saw a iron Temple Gong
never ever rung.

Held the gong mallet in my right hand,
Swinging hard, imagined the Gong rang.

24. The Pleasures of Masochistic Conundrums

the fact is that some philosophers enjoy
the rush of mental masochism,
the bondage to fashionable ideas,
the titillations of traditions,
the painful flagellation with

the keen, clear, sharp cutting words,
the bowing to Mistress Logic,
the humiliation of utter confusion,
the euphoria of the games,
the illusions of obsessions,

the charms of the fantastic
the theaters of thought alluring,
the submission to
the non-experiential concepts,
the fetishes of errors and illusions.

25. Hunted in the Night

In the bowels of darkness, grim and cold,
the heads of the hunted turned,
young and old;
Fearing the rattle in the weeds.

White teeth,
Prowling predators, hard claws unsheathed.
Ears up listening, listening, still as knives,
Fangs barred, dripping tongues, hungry eyes.

Coyotes did their yap-yap howl
Mice and rabbits in holes hide
Raccoons and possums growled
Bats flew fast from side to side

The Killer-Hunters are on duty now
In the night, the Night, knowing how.

26. Flipped Over in the Turning Sands

affecting all the molecules in me
the pull of the moon and sea
feeling the call to walk the shore
Smiled, opened the door

tides and time sent signals to me
to step nimbly over epiphanies
seen flipped over in the turning sands
Surprised, opened my hands

waiting for nobody but me
a fleck of cold fire
flung out on this fleck of space
Sang out, Loved this Place

I picked up a shiny pebble
intricate, Green with Spots of Yellow

27. Awake in the Darkness

The Night waited patiently
turning Time to and fro
quietly seeking dawn's glow
while raindrops caressed trees

Cold breezes knocked fences
branches bent and buckled
Time both stopped and started
crawling slowly to Dawn's ascension

Pre-Dawn thoughts slowly uttered
seemed insightful, mostly not,
random images, soggy plots,
impotent ideas, platitudes buttered

Finally, the sun broke the impasse.
Time was unchained to roll at last.

28. Empty Beer Cans on the Golf Course

Nectaries overripe mushy
closed doors open in Coos Bay
mortgage payment missed today
knocking Trump off his high horse
skipping over a dead golf course

Emptying words from the back of his car
answers in the back of the book

Home late for bean soup supper
rocky scramble down Mt. Starr
doing doughnuts in horse-around cars
peeing in my pants despite my hustle
laughing at self-strumming guitars

Finding meaning in empty jars
fortune cookies fake fortunes reading

29. Double Visions

An eager face staring into the Rich silence
Of mirrored space devoid of mind;
Not projecting or connecting, but reflecting.
Supreme non-fictions, Things
Naked as they are, as they are.

Inevitably, as sunshine blares on stones,
Green erupts from Brown.
Curiousity Swings across the Mind
past junkyards of ideas, peeling metaphors,
rusting rhymes, and concrete cliches,

Into the Center of Imagination City!
We are as we are:
Twofolds, Fourfolds, Eightfolds of
Realities and Possibilities.
Pushing on. Pushing on!

30. Clear Cut

A. Before and Ongoing

Clear-Cut ------------------------------------
               sunburnt shrubs, oozing stumps,
               raw bulldozer Ruts ::::::::::::::

B. Now and Ongoing

We replant more seedling trees every year:
52 million a year in Washington forests,
158 million a month all around the world,
7 thousand replanted every minute.
I planted 200 trees in my lifetime.
Others saved treasured trees in cities.
Julia Butterfly Hill protested for 738 days
high on a loved old-growth redwood tree.
Kenny Chaplin, Wangari Maathai, Li Xiuzhu,
Johnny Appleseed, Constantino Aucca Chutas,
Aila Keto, John Muir, Jadav Payeng,
Saalumarada Thimmakka, Adrien Taylor ...
Tree Huggers, Tree Heroes, Tree Savers,
Tree Planters!! I Salute these Green saviors.

The Weyerhaeuser Company planted 6 billion trees
for many decades fostering sustainability.

31. On the Trail to Arrago Point

Crooked cane, big backpack
Two bottles with fresh water
Trail food gorp in a blue bag
Compass and phone at hand

Map in my front pocket
Extra clothes in the pack
Tools for nature studies
Time for it to happen.

Warm coat, cabby cap
Good boots, wool socks.
Steep trails to tide pools
Tired back, cricky knee

So, I stopped the hike at last,
being sensible, headed back.

32. The Dice of Days

Life’s a gamble every day
The Future ... our open doors
The Present is only one day
The Past offers love and lore

The Future: our opened doors
Free rolls of the loaded dice
The Past offers love and lore
Beauty served up straight on ice

Free rolls of the legal dice
Gamble's choice to bet or not
Beauty served at a modest price
Time readily bought and sold

Gambler's choice to take or hold
Sometimes free to bet on me
Time precious bought and sold
Many other depend on me

Sometimes free to just let it be
Chances are the claim of the game
Many others love lucky me
Standing uncertain in the rain

Chance in life are randomly hitched
The Future: opened up useful doors
Standing fast, taking risks,
The Past a fecund changing shore.

33. Riddles Unraveled

The fire fell in love when it found its perfect match.
He named his two watch dogs: 'Timex and Rolex.'
Your age: always higher, never lower.
Why is this Gold Fish so expensive?
What's another word for "Thesaurus?"

A shoe that has a tongue but cannot talk.
Trees access the Internet by logging in.

Tomorrow comes but never arrives.
A Christmas tree has many needles but does not sew.
People give their mistakes a name: 'Experience.'
A telephone has many rings but no fingers.
A yardstick has three feet but cannot walk.

A shoe that has a tongue but cannot talk.
A fire can grow but cannot live.

727 Riddles, Jokes, Brain Teasers

34. Snow on Bastendorff Beach

A final word from the cold yurt camp:
the bitter stiffness comes and goes,
21 degrees is just too damn cold,
my fingers burn from Winter’s stamp.

Yesterday, three fishermen talking
     in a Charleston cafe
told of the snow coming tomorrow,
     Thursday;
Snow on Bastendorff Beach
beyond the north jetty of Coos Bay.
You have got to be kidding,
glassy snow on the way?

I gathered up all my camping gear
well before daybreak and packed;
found a way to get it all stacked
in tightly in the old Ford’s rear.

I confess, the Hard Cold Beat me Down.
     So I quit, and
left the Sunset Cove yurt campground
     on that Wednesday morn
in the chilly daybreak without making
     hardly a sound.
Headed to my warm home in Vancouver now!

35. Poetry and the Grim Reaper

Often, poets speak of Death,
the endings unceremoniously passing on,
penning Elegies for dear friends past,
acknowledging their heroes long gone,
crying over dear loved ones lost,
saluting soldiers dying in their prime,
cheering when their enemies bite the dust,
lamenting their parents final days,
facing their own dead coming today.
The finality, the irreversibly,
the inevitability, the objectivity...
Hard to bear; the indignity, the
Pain, the Sorrow, everyone's Fate.
All men are mortal. Logically, and You.

36. Paradoxical Considerations

Dividing by math into the decimal’s depths
Leaves the Tortoise always one-step less.
Stopped by a perplexed infinite regress;
The Hare’s running to a marathon death.

She knows heroin and cocaine will kill her,
Her pleasures propel her to pay for more.
She can hardly stand, sits on the floor.
Finally, dying suddenly, payback occurred.

Supreme Fictions live on and on for most
who say they believe in Holy Ghosts who
will escort them to Heaven to get their due
for doing nothing but buttering toast.

Lots of puzzles and problems at Life’s door.
Paradoxically, we always crave for more.

37. Marriage Misaligned

A gold ring dulled by time
Marking one marriage misaligned.
Broken promises rip up minds.
Lies increased but did not rhyme.

Overspending broke the weakened chains.
Yelling and cussing split their brains.
Arguing for hours to make their claims.
They seldom agreed and were not ashamed.

38. Steigerwald Wildlife Refuge

Soggy soils at the Steigerwald Refuge tempting
thousands of geese, ducks, and birds to feed
in tall grasses, trees, and on the seeds of weeds
next to the Columbia River endlessly so running

Stepping though the muddy puddles slimy grime
on the hint of a trail to the Columbia levee’s line
we zipped on a raincoat as the drizzle fell down
marveled at the many kinds of birds all around

Sitting on the levee at the shins of the Cascades
watching barges slowly follow the Columbia’s way
to the Portland-Longview big ship docks today
while a kite-boarder rips a spinner in fast play

The quacking and tweeting rose to a din
while the River seem silent, hiding within

39.

Fourteen Acts I Do Every Day
at 8o Years of Age

Get Up, Stand, Move; Plan
Eat breakfast; Think
Talk with my wife; Listen
Read, Learn; Reflect
Tend to our garden, Smile; Wonder

Write, Web Publish, Journal, Blog; Communicate
Enjoy Walking, Exercise; Encourage Others

Mind My Own Business; Work
Play Music, Dance, Art; Energize
Do Household Chores, Help; Contribute
Clean my Body, Drink Water; Purify
Socialize; Communicate for Peace

Eat Lunch and/or Dinner; Gratitude
Sleep; Dream

40. Beginner's Luck and Junior's Gone:
I Move On.

I began studying Sonnets for the first time in my life in the winter of 2020.
I studied the literary commentators, teachers, and Sonnet master guides.

I was an old man in 2020, 74 years old and surprised that I was still alive.
I could still lift a pencil, walk, garden, read, write, laugh, listen, thrive.

My brother-in-law, Junior P, died today, 2025, in Indiana, at the age of 87.
Mr. Alzheimer and Mrs. Pneumonia escorted him to Baptist Heaven.

I imagined writing everyday, a ritual of awakening.
I pretended I was a poet, a Lit-Head Hip hipster, a cool author in disguise.

We know a few who said a prayer to the good Baptist God, before Junior died.
We hope God listened and told Barbara, Junior's late wife, that God too cried.

I read and read, listened, took notes, memorized phrases, studied hard.
I thought about Sonnets, their history, their forms, their great bards.

So, I picked up a pencil and started to write a amateur's sonnet;
Floundered, could not get the words just right;
so I let it stew for awhile. Then, returned to write.

41. Freed the Criminals

King T promised to daily Strive
to cut our Government down to size
castrate Departments and Agencies
eliminate benefits people use to survive.

He grants pardons to convicted felons
MAGA Insurrectionists from Jan 6th,
Right-Wing White Boys, yelling-trashing
People injured and dying on the Capitol floor.

King T busy telling everyone
what to Do to be in his good favor;
or else he will Do Bad This or Bad That
to your people, until you obey.

Busy, bossy, rich King T will go
until his stone-cold heart finally blows snow.

42. Campfire at Grayland Beach

Granted, I don't live at the sea.
I'm an inlander, you see, but
living not far from the Pacific
Ocean visited by others and me.

To watch the dark wet sand
splashed by churning surf.
To feel the cold swirling sea
bounce by my knees. Exhilarated

by wave after walls of water waves.
Later, rested, dried off, sitting still
around a campfire pit glowing red;
talking about friends who are dead.

In the cold dark night the sounds
of the surf melted the campfire light.

43. Stoners Roost on Highway 99

In Vancouver, the Washington rain seldom ends
in winter when the trees and shrubs are gray
and thin. We wear coats and sweaters indoors
and stay cozy warm, dry, and often High.

Highway 99 goes right through our town;
It’s Main Street, paralleling Interstate 5.
Main Street Marijuana is Open
     Everyday, from 8 am to 11 pm.
Selling pot to Stoners on the prowl.

He shops there every Thursday for Cannabis,
sativa and indica, mixes, pre-rolled, on Sale;
10 1/2 gram pre-rolled joints for $15.00.
Redbird Sour Diesel for $1.50 a spliff; Yes!

At home: comfy, dry, relaxing, reading, Stoned.
Mainstreetmarihuana is a small part
     of his much larger Home.

Highway 99 and Interstate 5

44. A Down's Talking: Da Da Da Da...

Two brothers and one sister playing
on the campground park paths.
Laughing and running very fast.
Howling like coyotes courting.

One shouts “Run!” The others laugh.
The little girl stutters,
“dada dada dada dada
rara rara rara rara”
Likely, a Down’s special-mind child.

At 4am the girl screams in her yurt.
Night terrors wrenched her soul.
Her mother tried her best to console.
Her brothers woke up and looked hurt.

Unaware of her handicapped future,
families try their best to fill in for her.

Coos Bay, Oregon

45. Arbitrary Associations Impending

Combining useful and not
was an activity he often fought.
Because, frequent repetition of
two variables, often led to
associations undesirable

He ate fried foods while he wrote,
soon he could not write sans Fritos.
He smoked while he worked,
soon he could not continue to work
without taking many a toke.

Associations like glue sticks and binds
creating connections and habits
he never expected at any time,
they multiplied like mice in his mind.

Break connections, divorce associations,
     rally behind a his new he.
Avoiding these random associations,
     he becomes free.

46. What We All Eat

The snail slides over the leaves,
eating hardily. The hummingbird
flits anxiously from flower to flower.
The spider wraps her web around
a dying little moth. The squirrel
steals a peanut from the feeder.
My dog digs up a mole. A coyote
pounces on a rabbit. A bear
sucks up pounds of huckleberries.
Pigs feast on grain and slop.
Giraffes eat 66 pounds each day
of Acacia leaves. She savors a
juicy hot burrito from Taco Bell.
I eat fried Hamma Hamma oysters in Olympia.

47. Foot the Bill for Your First

My poem was posted to my Cloud Hands Blog,
150 people actually read it, I think.
Thoreau could not sell his copies of Walden Pond.
Ezra Pound, nearly broke, self-published A Lume Spento.
Marcel Proust footed the bill for Swan's Way.
Confidence in yourself is essential;
Keep on going, Work, invest in Your Creativity.
Most will fail to gain much notoriety!
Most will not sell their poetry books!
Their intimate creations will just gather dust!
But, unless you place your bet, and
toss the dice on the crap table of public poetry,
you will have failed in your Sharing Quest.
Ready, Set, Place Your Bet!

48. Places Covered in Time

A gold wedding ring fell off
my skinny wet index finger.
Ikkyü kissed a pretty whore,
Basho walked 15 kilometers in the snow.
Las Vegas in 1967 was not heaven,
Rod Serling died in the Twilight Zone,
Jim Henson's Muppets cried when he died.
Terrorists stopped World Trade on 9/11.
The COVID lockdown closed Church doors;
Coroner's trucks filled with iced souls.
Meanwhile, life went on and on.
Red Bluff summers were hot as hell;
I taught yoga at the local fitness gym.
Portland in May, rhododendrons in bloom.

49. Staying Near Home

Back packed to the Mt. Whitney Summit
Body surfed at Zuma Beach
At Green Gage plums in June
Decorated and hid colored East eggs.
Another day, where will we go. Say,
lets just stay at home, watch the 49ers play,
smoke some fine Sour Diesel today,
don't fly to Florida for the sweating sun.
Shovel compost and manure to fertilize,
Jump in Whiskeytown Lake in May,
hike to the Sierra Alpine hut on Mt. Shasta.
Fume with Death in the Duino Elegies,
Rilke never walked up Mt. Ranier.
I did not seek answers I would not use.

50. Voyager Tarot Oversized Collage Art Cards

Wands: Spiritual, Staff, Clubs
Crystals: Mind, Swords, Spades
Cups: Emotions, Flowers, Hearts
Worlds: Body, Earthy, Diamonds
Major Arcana: 0-22. I-XXII

[Tarot Total Cards = 78 Cards.
Pull 5/78; .064102. = 6.41% ]

Minor Arcana = 52 Cards
Four Suits with 13 Cards in each Suit
Child, Man, Woman
Voyager Tarot Design by James Wanless
78 Oversize Collage Art Tarot Cards

Random Sample Size of 6.41%
Randomly Selected by Inquirer's Fingers

51.

He was a hot head.
She was cold as ice.
It was the end of the line.
We are armies of the night.
They were hard pressed.

Consciousness rises as language grows,
Metaphors expand the dimensions of the Known.

Cars are gas guzzlers.
Forests were enchanting ghosts.
Men were oxen on yokes.
Maps were essential Keys
Rivers were twisting snakes.

This was that, figuratively.
That was this, comparatively.

Metaphors are unceasingly born
Growing like leaves in February
From Imaginative fecund roots
Connecting disconnected images
of That and This, figuratively.

52.

One Picture of Me

The bloodless sea—
picturing crashing white waves
bulldozing the thick brown sand
reshaping the shorelines destiny
relentlessly, impulsively, creatively

The bloodless sea—
written about by poets for centuries
     rudely calling my bluff
challenging me aggressively
pushing me past my petty me