Friday, July 26, 2013

Weekly Worded

    On the Migration of Jerseys

    The riders arrive in formation, plumed
    in multi-colored Spandex and Lycra,
    polyester techno-fibers weaving
    their way through town.

    How exotic their appearance,
    suspended on hollow appendages,
    alloyed bones, skinny tires, pedals
    whirring like a hummingbird.

    Each bike banded with a number,
    feeding stations along the route, strategic
    stops to dismount and test their legs 
    against a slower, sluggish earth.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Weekly Worded

    Our Full Moon

Explorers have deposited
400,000 pounds

of debris, comprised
of at least 21,000 pieces

of humanly generated junk,
including 96 bags of urine,

feces, and vomit, all of it
without ever bothering

to dig their own crater
and cover it up.

Friday, July 12, 2013

Weekly Worded

    Traditional View

Veils of virga over the Ute Mountain
like gauzy curtains on the horizon,
like half-formed dreams billowing
in one corner of the Four Corners.

Powwow drums of thunder,
lightning sharp enough to bead
the rain, a zigzag pattern against
the shawl of this sleeping earth.

Friday, July 5, 2013

Weekly Worded

    The Rich Taste Better

It’s not as if everything
has to taste like chicken.
Cannibals say
pork best describes
the flavor of human flesh.
Maybe so. 
It’s not as if I know
but given a need
and leaner days
I’d take a broker over a baker,
a professional athlete
over an amateur,
a celebrity over a sailor.
I respect the poor
but I expect they’d be stringy.