Swee.Touch.Nee

The way a coat opens
The inner pocket found
A cream and crimson tin
Inserted
In one motion all thumbs and fingers

The day demands lazy rest
A pot of tea to nudge the body
And I light the discovered cigar
Found
In the same motion all thumbs and fingers

And look
The milk and the smoke
Swirls and disappears
Tea the color of stain
Birds
Land on shoots of butterfly flowers

When you doubt God
Smell the tobacco
Follow the cloud of tea milk
Hear the machinegun rapidity of
Wings
Freezing the body of a hummingbird

Touchdown Dogs6 (life and times of spa salesmen)

“Diet Coke is for people who hate themselves,” said Newman.
“That’s not true,” said Trav.
“Well, in all of my experiences it has been true.”
“All your experiences?”
“Yes. Well, I think that it sounds good anyway. That Diet Coke is for people who hate themselves. I should write that down.”
“Yeah, that’s profound stuff,” said Trav, raising his coffee mug to his mouth.
“I think of profound things like that all the time, and I think I should write a book of them.”
“Like what? Tell me some.”
“For instance, I think that people who read the newspaper hate themselves.”
“How is that profound?”
“People who read new-”
“I heard you the first time. But you just copied what you said about Diet Coke before. You said the same thing, just with different objects.”
“Well, that’s arguable,” said Newman, taking a bite out of his Hot Pocket.
“Tell me another one.”
“OK. It’s all in your mind.”
Trav locked eyes with Newman.
“What is?”
“All of it,” said Newman.
“Someone has said that before.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know, but it isn’t some witty observation that you just made up.”
“I bet if you had said it, you would have thought it was witty,” said Newman. Cheese dangled from his chin.
“If I was the one that actually did say it, then yes, I would think it witty. But it’s not even witty in the first place. It’s more of a philosophy then anything else.”
“People who study philosophy like to hear themselves talk.”
“True.”
“My favorite profound observation is that using the phrase, ‘your dead to me now,’ is a perfect waste of breath.”
“Who said that one?” said Trav.
“Me. Just now," said Newman.

Old World

Every man yearns for the old world
To sit in a public square eating cheese
To feel the grit of stirred dust
From the graceful prance of the matador

To play chess, smoke cigarettes
Drink from a demitasse
To end up as an old man
Overly dressed for summer

Old men, friends with other old men
Longer than can be recalled by either
Old men sitting on a patio
Talking of knife fights

They revel in words and phrases
With spotted hands, pour milk into tea
Conversations of Christ and music and art
Words said just for hearing, omitting meaning

Meat is bland now, too easy
Give me the old world
A whole animal impaled on a spit
A taste of time taken and present forgotten

There is nothing of it in me
I am all cellophane and powdered milk
All bloody meat on Styrofoam
A high-res image full of pixels

Gloaming

Dreamland exists outside of sleep
When evening becalms afternoon
When sun forgives moon
And the river slows to a creep

Trees tired from waiving
Flowers yawn and close their soft jaws
Bees report home
Patient dogs lick their paws

Backyard fires broadcast smoke
Shadows gone from long to nonexistent
Transistor radios recite ballgames
Distant frequencies more persistent

Those that sleep wait another day
To chase dreams
Or to dream of dreams
To pursue with eyes open or eyes closed

Anthem

"Mr. Ishi?"
"Yes."
"This the Jap that lives above me?"
"This uh Mr. Ishi."
"Well this uh Mr. Donnelly from downstairs. Turn off the damn racket you got up there!"
"No racket?"
"No racket? I can hear it through the ---- phone!"
"No racket! Anthem!"
"And the ceiling! I can hear it through the ceiling tiles! Damn Jap!"
Mr. Ishi hung up.
Mr. Donnelly looked up at his ceiling and heard the muffled din of horned instruments wailing. He got up from his chair and went to the hutch. There was a mirror hanging above it and Donnelly looked at himself for several seconds before opening the hutch drawer. He fished for his pistol and one bullet. The music seeped through the crown molding and dripped down the wall in angry black ink. He loaded the pistol and put it in the pocket of his robe.

Mr. Donnelly walked to the front door and reached out to unlock the latch. The door bell rang. He swung the door open with one hand in his robe pocket, grasping the pistol.

Mr. Ishi stood elegantly and fiercely in the entry way with a great sword in both hands, the handle held at his eye level. He was wearing a Snoopy shirt with the Japanese flag draped over his shoulders. In one motion he brought the samurai sword down on Mr. Donnelly's arm.

Mr. Ishi's door was open upstairs and the United States national anthem roared from his television.

Manquake

Cooper Janis took his last breaths in a slow, thoughtful rhythm. He lay on his back in the snow and fought to keep his eyes open.

Blue.

He wanted to remember. What do they call it when the earth shakes? He tried to say it out loud, but wasn't sure if he was speaking or thinking.

Manquake.

Something wrong with that, he thought. It was the ground that shook and fractured the earth, eliminating all men except for Cooper Janis.

Manquake.

No. The mountains, the dirt, the buildings, the earth, sank into themselves, but what was the word? The earth shook.

His bed of snow was comfortable. He closed his eyes.

Blue.

Sestina On Six Words By Donald Justice (by Jeremy Pegg)

I dreamed of your absence
In details you could not imagine
Your spirit fluttered to the sky
And burst like flash paper when finished
Everything looks like the dying
Everything rises like steam to the clouds

How is it I see you in the clouds
Perhaps my dreams have turned to dying
I think it is I who is finished
Or hopeless, this is all I can imagine
To look longingly to the sky
And wish it was I in your absence

But why use this word finished
To end the journy of the dying
We stifle what all men imagine
A jog, a race, a train, a road trip through the sky
Visions and spirits puddle jump the clouds
In heaven, considered a tardy, not an absence

In my sleep, in your time of dying
I floated off my bed towards the sky
I stood up and followed you through the clouds
I stalked quietly in fear of your absence
Wanted to hold on as you could imagine
Then the dream (or was it reality) was finished

Touchdown Dogs5 (life and times of spa salesmen)

“I think that forgiveness is a raw deal,” said Newman.
“How do you mean?” said Trav.
“I think that it’s too easy.”
“I think it’s one of the hardest things that you can do.”
“Forgiveness is responsibility shirked.”
“That is one of the most profound things I have ever heard you say. In fact I think that it is the only profound thing that you’ve ever said.”
“Well here is the thing. If I sleep with your wife tonight and then see you in the morning and feel a little bad about it.”
“A little?”
“If I feel remorse. Or hell. Maybe I don’t feel any remorse but I still want to be friends.”
“Can you use another example?” said Trav.
“No.”
Trav tried to take a long drink of his water but the glass was full of ice only. He looked for the waitress. Newman picked up his water, drank all of it, and then continued to pursue the subject.
“Don’t you think that it puts the responsibility on you to forgive me for what I’ve done with your wife?”
“How ‘bout you stole my car or something, and then wanted to bring it back?” said Trav.
“What’s wrong?”
“I am eating my lunch. I have no water. And you are talking about sleeping with my wife.”
The waitress was standing with her back to the table that Newman and Trav were sitting at. She heard Trav say that he had no water and spun around.
“I’m sorry sir. I am by myself today. I will have that water in a second.” she said.
Trav hardly acknowledged her and Newman told her it was ok. He looked at Trav inquisitively.
“What?” said Trav.
“Well do you forgive her?”
“For not keeping my water filled up?”
“Do you?”
“I have not been wronged.”
“You can’t do it can you?”
“I hate you Newman.”
“See. She screwed up. The consequences affected you. And now you must choose to forgive or hold on.”
The waitress returned with a metal pitcher and refilled Trav’s water.
“Thanks,” said Trav, with a warm smile.
Newman waited until she was finished and out of range, “So you chose to fulfill your responsibility and forgive her for making you thirsty.”
“What's your point?”
“I just think that it is a raw deal. That waitress wasn’t doing her job for whatever reason and you went thirsty. She says sorry and is done with it. You have to make a choice to forgive her. You are the one that has to leave today choosing to forgive her for not keeping your water full and forgive me for stealing your car with your woman in it.”
“How is your patty-melt?” said Trav.
“We made out in the back seat. I’m sorry.”
“That's enough Newman. I get the point.”
“So you hypothetically forgive me for hypothetically steeling your ride and your lady?”
“Hypothetically? Yes. For real? No.”
“Well you would have to live with that for the rest of your life like a cancer. It only hurts you.”
Trav took his wallet out and put his cash on the table. Newman watched Trav leave through the bottom of his ice water.

untitled

This is a poem for you to read
Of phrases and words that breathe
Their breath of letters in lead
Stuck to flypaper in my head

Rain dripping through a rolled down window

Hiding under a wooden porch listening to secrets

An oily leather man and woman retire by a pool

Peanut butter on my thumb

Forehead pressed against a school bus seat

A table in a basement being used as a shelf

The cold sting of a knife cut

Wizz-clap goes the shutter

Bruised bananas in a brown paper bag

The box labeled "yes" marked with a check

Excerpt

The car made its way through the dark, block after decrepit block, a tangle of lights, outdated signs, men on corners, men in entryways, women walking, traffic lights saying caution. It seemed to Knute that they stopped at every block and the people on the corner were only feet away, able to reach through the missing rear window. On one corner, groups of people were waiting for something that would never come. Another corner, young men, black and white, dressed in shine, spinning on their backs, then their heads, a silver square with black round speakers pumping a syncopated boom-tat. The sound bent as they drove by.

Weight

At what point does one admit
That they are the things that they do
The things that no one sees
The words that nobody hears

I am the words I write
I am the songs I sing in the car
I am the curses I mumble
I am the dreams in my sleep

I am a childless father
Married to a beautiful mother
That simply lacks an infant
In a home with empty rooms

But there are flowers in my front yard
Flowers that I admire
Flowers cut and put in vases
Flowers that support the weight

Of butterflys and hummingbirds

Touchdown Dogs4 (life and times of spa salesmen)

"I understand you're on a strict budget. But I could be of more help if you give me an idea of how much you want to spend," said Trav.
The couple looked at each other, communicating in silence, wondering if this would be a breech of their defense to utter the dollar amount they were prepared to pay. The husband spoke up.
"We can spend exactly four thousand dollars."
"Four thousand. Let me show you a different tub that is suited more for your budget," said Trav, passing the counter that Newman was standing behind. The customers followed at a distance.
Trav stood next to a smaller spa with his hand placed on the shell.
"Now this is a couple steps down from the one we were just looking at, but a great spa."
The couple let their eyes move around inside the tub and then met up again to communicate in silence. Trav glanced over their shoulder at Newman. Newman was mouth breathing. This time the wife spoke up.
"Does this one have a waterfall?"
"What?" said Trav.
Newman closed his mouth and looked at Trav.
"Does this one have a waterfall?"
"I heard you."
"What about a stereo?" said the husband.
Newman moved from behind the counter and took a single step towards the group.
"No, Newman. I'm fine."
The couple looked behind them and Newman flashed an angelic smile at them. The wife smiled back. But the couple turned their heads back to Trav as he began to speak.
"Sir, when you go shopping for a camera, what is the first thing you look for while shopping?"
"A big zoom lens," said the husband.
Trav pulled the pencil from above his ear and pointed it at the door. Newman stepped between the lead of the pencil and the couple and Trav noticed that Newman had eaten the rest of the eraser.

The Bedouin

The Bedouin.
To ride the desert in search of oasis.
Draped in black.
Sword strapped over my shoulder.
Content and resigned to lose to the sun.
Lazy on the hump of a camel.
Dreaming of a pistol.
Sleeping under the moon and the never setting sun.
Even at midnight it lingers.
With bitter cold.
To have a pistol.
To steal a man's horse at gunpoint.
Camel tied behind the great beast.
My horse.
Black as oil.
Robes flowing in the draft of sure speed.
All four hooves suspended over the chapped desert floor.
And a great silver sword reflecting like a mirror in my raised hand.
Bedu.

Gresham

There were months
That felt like years
That were only days
Of drizzle and gray

My bedroom window
Dingy on both sides
A fist under my chin
Pane beset with a din

Of wind and rain
Of Easterly gusts
Off the surface of the river
Chin on my fist quivers

Pine trees leave gray shadows
Where the rain has not hit
The sidewalk covered in chalk
Where my bike flys like a hawk

But I am behind the glass
I lay on my chest
Tomato soup in the kitchen
Tomorrow I race or wait again

Touchdown Dogs3 (life and times of spa salesmen)

"Cards?" said Trav.
"Yeah," said Newman.
"What are we playing for?"
"Just keep track on this pad and we will pay up at the end of the month."
"No," said Trav.
"Why not?"
"Let's play for arm hairs."
A man came in the shop and walked straight back to the counter where Trav and Newman were standing. Trav slipped the waterproof cards under the counter.
"You guys check this water for me?" said the man.
"Newman," said Trav.
Newman went from card hustler to chemist. The PH was high and Newman gave the man what he needed to make adjustments. The man left.
"Arm hairs?" said Newman.
"You donkey," said Trav.
"What?"
"You sold him the wrong stuff."
"Why didn't you say something."
"Are we going to play?"
Newman brought the deck of cards back out and started shuffling.
"What are the blinds?" said Newman.
"Big is two arm hairs and small is one. You are big blind."
"Why am I big?"
"You have the cards. You are the dealer," said Trav as he plucked a hair from his arm. Newman put the cards down and squinted his eyes and threw his head back as he ripped a patch of hair off his arm.
"Big is only two arm hairs Newman."
"I raise," said Newman while dropping about twenty arm hairs on the counter.
"I'm all in."

Underneath

Tiger snaps branches
Tiger breaks leaves
The hair of the jungle stands
On end

Misery sleeps in the mud
Misery creeps in my blood
The hair of the forest runs
Faster, faster

River rushes and moans
River takes and loans
The hair of the rocks like
Mossy scalps

Drunkards curse and thrash
Drunkards reserved for the sea
The hair of the sea
Tangles and strangles

Apples in abundance
Apples drop to the earth
The hair of black cake
Green and wet

Jackie and Magnus

Jackie and Magnus are brothers.

Magnus came home from work and sat on the couch, as was his custom, and waited for the NBC Nightly News to begin. He watched the evening broadcast and the same old thing was happening all over the world.

"And finally tonight..."

When the broadcast ended, Magnus tried to get up from the couch. His upper body moved forward but his lower half remained on the couch. He laughed. And then he cried for hours as he realized he had lost all control of his legs and that there was no help coming until morning. Jackie worked graveyard shift and would walk through the front door at dawn. Magnus went through several emotional states before he drifted into sleep.

He heard Jackie's car on the gravel driveway and woke up. He tried again to stand up. He pushed against the seat cushions with his hands and listened as the signals he sent from his brain to his legs reported back. Error.

Jackie opened the front door and saw his brother sitting on the middle of the couch.

"You are up early."

Magnus cried. Jackie passed out.

Two years went by and Magnus never got off the couch. Not for anything. Jackie brought all his meals and took care of his every day bodily functions. The logistics of this feat need not be told in any detail.

It occurred to Jackie that Magnus may be feeling a bit depressed. He brought home a wheelchair from the thrift shop.

"I thought it would make you feel better," said Jackie.
"It would make me feel better if you got the hell out of here," said Magnus, the elder brother.
"If I leave how will you eat?"
"Take that Merle Haggard record with you."
"What's wrong with Hag? If I leave, you will die."
"I know."

Jackie cried. Magnus passed out.

It took three weeks for Magnus to die. It took another week for neighbors to call the city and complain about the smell coming from the house. When city officials came into the house, they discovered the horror of Jackie and Magnus.

The turntable was on and skipping.
"Silver wings." Pop. "Silver wings." Pop. "Silver wings." Pop. "Silver wings." Pop. "Silver wings." Pop.

Touchdown Dogs2 (life and times of spa salesmen)

The guy had been in the shop for an hour asking me questions about jets and pumps and heaters and chemicals and...
And then I asked if he was going to buy.
He said no, that he was just looking. I picked up a pencil from the jar on the counter top, pointed the lead at the door, and said, "Git."
I think Newman chewed part of my eraser off.

Blue Juniper

Blue juniper cascades
Like wax down an urn
Branches trained by gravity
Knotted trunk twists and turns

Blue juniper searches
Needles hunt for earth
The dust greets the dead
Silent prickles return to dirt

Blue juniper evergreen
Shed the dead for the living

Pearl Eyelash

Goodbye pearl eyelash
The sun rises again
You flutter away and
Yield to brother sun

Clouds full of glory
Hoist sun into place
Windows beaming orange
Hidden webs full of mist

Coffee pots
Hair dryers
Dripping water
Falls from hanging baskets

You want to know?
How’s it going to end?
It ends where it starts
The moon yields again