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“Find one with two legs, you deserve that.”

16 Nov

You seem to forget

I remind you

How to remember

What you long for

Desire, cherish, covet, seek

An elixir to cure

My voice

From your honey-crusted hide

Pulled drum stick taught/to beat my heart

Against your face/the facts

Are nearby/tomorrow

You may recall

How you never stood a

Chance/meeting up

Against my skin, moon, starry eyes

After midnight before

The croon, swoon

My lover, I made you/on one

Occasion/two different

memories

Three choices

The other guys never stood a chance.

From the left seat I can see that you were right

11 Nov

I reside in heavens

when we fly it’s very clear

the bigger organism we

are apart of/from up

here/now vision clouded

with/by ether, our lives below

the bible thumping belt, so rare

did you think I wasn’t looking when you quietly ordered

yourself back into submission from the menu

or was that for those to whom you say life is good like comfort food for breakfast

on saturday just before noon in our pajamas with the radio playing/the smell of grease

and gasoline in your hair, citrus on the wind

real maple syrup and bacon/your favorite

race on television. We did things

on that leather couch that would embarrass the children if they existed

we spooned entire days into a bowling ball bag

you won/lost, as if we had nothing

more important to do than touch each other until we did

or maybe we only manufactured that/you

came down from your mountain-top to pull me up

and I was so grateful I gave you things

to desire instead

of me/but when I called down to you from mine

you couldn’t hear me any more

than when I used to tell you

I had a dream

in the night/you reached

out for me from your

fear of light/sleepers

women pilots

weak people

distrust

and we would fly

blindly, madly

in love with passenger seats, advanced

stall warning recovery

whether predictions

down-shifting, flights planned

restricted/visual ceiling fan rules

taking precedence under the covers

your feet my pedals

clutching, crabbing

our forte

negative g-forced

free fall

Best Coffee Ever

26 Oct

You drilled a hole in my head this morning

fresh ground just barely

boiling you pressed

your forehead against

the mines, our minds

quarried

parece las piedras preciosas

con leche

and honey,

there’s nothing cliche about that

Piedras

Mine the heart, mind the head.

A Certain Feeling

16 Oct

There’s a certain feeling  I get, knowing you were in my bed with me last night. It doesn’t even matter that you may never be again. Because tonight I can smell you on my pillows and this morning I laughed as I realized the extraneous patience I had for untangling the sideways blanket and sheets while making the bed which you do so much more efficiently than me.

Too bad we slept in this morning. I’m happy you traded breakfast for that new position though. Reminds me of a pair of scissors when I look back at your hands on my hips. Your body splitting me in two at the waist. The dreamy gaze your eyes blink back when you hit the snooze button one more time and the spot that makes us both gasp and smile warm, cottony smiles at each other as we pull back the sheets again.

In fact, I’m glad you’re not here. It gives me time to remember the way you laced your fingers in mine as we sweat ourselves to sleep. How you asked me to come for you again and again because you like it. How hard you worked not to. How you leaned in for one last kiss before unconsciousness took over. How you pulled me close entwining your legs with my legs, your feet with my feet.

I like it like that. One for you and four for me. Although, if you were here I would have proof it was not a dream. And if it was, I am so glad I am right here in the perfect place to recreate it. Here again in my bed, the sheets now neatly tucked under the pillow on one side. My hands are your hands between my legs. I’m wet just thinking about you but you know that from experience.

The fruit was good. Thank you. Last night your flesh was a ripe, purple plum between my teeth and this morning I ate you again for breakfast.

When two roads converged in a wood, I took the Allelopath

18 Apr

Allelopathy, I discovered yesterday—is the effect one species has upon the growth, survival and reproduction of another species by chemical, biological or ecological processes. For instance, a tree that grows to be tall and wide benefits the humans beneath it by providing shade where they may have a picnic, make sweet love and carve their initials into the pliable bark marking the first moment of their life-long commitment to benefit each other and their future children. The same tree does not allow any other species to thrive beneath it because of the very shade that benefits the humans.

I also discovered that plants aren’t the only ones with allelopathic tendencies.

It was a typical Tuesday morning eradication session at the Leon Creek Greenway where the Invaders volunteer their time to eradicate non-native invasive species. Ie. Kill things, record how and when they were killed, pinpoint a GPS location of the slaying and record it in a national database. It’s satisfying work because you can see the difference you are making in a landscape right away. Where once there was a mono-culture of invasive species, you can see the potential for new native growth almost immediately. Kind of like getting a haircut: It always makes you feel better about your future somehow.

This day was going along par for the course. I had my first kill and a fat one at that—around six inches in diameter. I had to use my Gomboy or folding handsaw. Felt good to get a big one under my belt first thing. I called out my count and the code for loathed Chinaberry Tree. Most of the trees we eradicated that morning were big Chinas. We had a crew of about 10 and it only took two to do the work of even the biggest tree. So the rest of us just sort of milled about watching or looking for our own pre-flagged specimen to fell.

I’ve been on several of these expeditions before but this one was different in so many ways, it really made me stop and think. The work we did at Rancho Diana seemed much more unobtrusive. We weren’t felling large trees but we were pulling, chopping and spraying hundreds of Nandina every week. There was the “Nandina Forest” where the bamboo-like plant had taken over an entire area of underbrush. That week I learned how to identify Nandia in every  stage of life from a newly formed sprig to a mature bush with berries. Somehow it seemed not only physically easier to hand-pluck the babies from the lush fertile forest floor but cognitively, I didn’t suffer other decisions. Like, which weapon to most effectively destroy the thing. I didn’t have to spend a lot of time with the same plant sawing or even break a sweat. All I had to do was seek, identify and destroy. Now look out honey, ’cause I’m usin’ tech-knowledgey…Somebody come and help me please…Somebody better save my soul! Wha? Oh, sorry Iggy Pop sideline. Happens every time.

So, the other thing is that something gets me out there in the civilized wild. A trail runs through it, but nature remains in control. Very early in our first effort to girdle a hug-sized Ligustrum we were verbally accosted by a few well-intentioned tree evangelists who proclaimed us “black-hearted sinners” for our defiant act of ecological restoration.

Black hearted sinners forever

Black hearted sinners forever

“We’re all invasive species!” She exclaimed passionately.

I see her point. So who decides?

If nature or her G-d for that matter saw fit for this plant to grow and thrive who are we to destroy it?

My rebuttle was weak. “But it will KILL all the other plants.”

Interesting perspective. Not true though.

It in fact, does nothing actively to kill anything. It only exists for the sole-purpose of existing.

Sure, its leaves drop and make the soil beneath it more alkaline insuring its own survival and the survival of other plants whose tastes agree. Sure, its canopy is large and dense to the detriment of many beneath it, earning it its nickname The Umbrella Tree. Sure, its prolific berries fall and turn to seeds and take their turns growing where they are unsurreptitiously planted. But if blame is due, it might just as well rest on the wings of that ill-fated bird who eats—gorges itself actually—becomes drunk on the toxic berries, flies downstream and deposits the seed at the mouth of another river where Chinaberry has never grown before and then dies. But not before making another even less desirable deposit of bloody seed encrusted feces on your freshly washed but unfortunately unwaxed clear coat instantly lowering your resale value.

Ultimately, we are the ones responsible for introducing the plant here in the first place. It’s a beautiful tree. Resilient. Hardy. Fast growing. Deciduous and flowering; it provides a brilliant if not common display of something in every season. It only becomes ugly when you see it choke out every other species or block a river from flowing freely. If you never saw a snake strike, you could assume it had no fangs. In these woods, the Chinaberry are sparse but large. They aren’t showing their fangs here. But as anyone who has ever been bitten by a snake knows: Size does matter.

Somewhere downstream or over the next hill or around the far bend the effects of these and several other non-native invasives that you can buy and are often touted as best use landscaping plants because of their tolerance for neglect and extreme weather. And that’s our justification for killing. G-d save our black-hearted souls! Funny thing though, they always seem to sprout back up in threes for each  individual we take down to a stump. Some say it’s a futile effort. We call it job security.

Makes ya kinda wonder though, doesn’t it.

Pretty Cool Feeling

12 Apr

Waking up to a brand new day

Taking the time to revel in it

Stretching out your thoughts

As far and wide as you can reach

    Expanding

Bringing it all back in

Accepting

    Understanding

Knowing

    Trusting

Starting again

Counting your blessings

Taking control

    Giving it up

Letting it ride

    Keeping it cool

Embracing the throttle

Rolling it all the way back in

Swiftly or slowly

Hearing

Sensing

Seeing the road stretch out before you

As far and wide as you want to go

Reeling it all back in beneath the seat of your consciousness

Practicing

    Believing

Stopping

    Owning

Turning

    Changing

But always

Moving forward

Yep.

Pretty cool feeling!

SDH Pt. 9 – Where I ask myself, “How many parts are there going to be?”

24 Dec

I dumped my water out while I was using the restroom at Big’s (Read: Valero). I made eye contact with myself in the mirror. I told myself I was not paranoid. If there ever has been a bigger better to be safe than sorry moment in your life, this is it. This is your chance to live to tell the tale. To be the smart chic in the horror movie who makes it out alive but still somehow unfulfilled. I pour my bottle of water in to the Smart bottle, noting that my hands are steady and I feel completely in control of every circumstance I can be. Splash some water on my face and prepare to face my fate.

It occurs to me that if this were a movie, I could make it as sweet as possible. I’m beginning to wonder if there was a little something in that water because I’m actually fantasizing about it. Well, the lead up to it anyway. I imagine he fulfills my every dark fantasy. By dark I mean the dysfunctional pleasure response created by the thing I was lead to believe was love as a child. The thing I named love as an adolescent. The gateway drug that became an addiction in my teens. The intense emotional experiences  I created in my twenties. The dissatisfaction I felt in my early thirties. And whatever this thing I’m doing right now is because they were all THE best thing I ever felt at the time they were happening.

Even the bad parts—you know the ones that even though there aren’t really any bad parts or good parts; there are just parts—you still kinda wonder what that really means? Even though you KNOW that to be true, still you doubt? Yeah. Even those.