Sir George and the Green Knight

“The liquor's gone to my head, Sir George!” he said,
or so I heard, though Doppler effected his voice,
because he shook his head to and fro, to and fro,
as I approached astride my coasting bike.

Deadpan he said, “Can I call you Sir George?”
“Of course!” was my reply. The shine of sun,
the chill against my knee of pale ale flask,
the alley gave way to spring but first the colors:

Red skin that set apart his bride's dress whiskers,
Blue shorts, bright blue that only set apart
A white turned fulvous shirt that could have been
a tawny shirt that years of sun bleached down.

The slosh that jolted round the jug he held
Held neither clear nor auburn ruddy meld,
But lips of “Oh!” surprise that I did greet
Until the jade bamboo marked my retreat.

Our eyes had met, the alley bum's and mine.
No longer set or dim, encroaching time.
To bear or not to bear another's weight?
A question meant to lure with tempting bait.

 
 

Thankful ain't tough

"I can barely hold my gun,"
he said, "my hands are frozen."
Taking the rifle and gazing
on baby soft fingers stung
red with the chill of north wind,

We trapse back swiftly and jump
a ruddy axis babe laid up
hiding from us. So near its warmth
kissed our cheeks; we smiled together.
I left my youth in that field for you

                          (pistol in hand, chasing a feral pig).

 
 

Word of the Day II

          With each passing fall day, his mother followed ebbs and flows emanating from the netroots, a Meissner’s plexus of political spin. As November approached, both certainty and uncertainty seemed concrete, and her anxiety rose exponentially. Trying to ignore the undercurrent of cynicism in election news stories was like holding back a freight train, but at least, she thought, these new forms of mediation did not leave her completely flummoxed.
          Her name was Beth, and she was a member of the banded confederation of groups that stood inexorably for one form or another of ‘conservatism,’ although each grandee fresh to its ranks had an evolved definition of the term. At the gym, she would bandy them about amongst her friends in non sequitur discussions, until words melded into laughter and poking fun at superficialities.
          Her people had their own world wide web, minus the techies and minus the world, for that matter. It was a social network with extreme purpose; they did not shilly shally on the issues that mattered. Business was conducted with comity, undergirded by a fierce resilience – they were not to be put down. For matters of national concern, they learned the party line and how to negotiate it. However, in matters of locality, the group’s gulosity for action was unmatched. Their tenacity was matched by a creative methodology.
          There would be no woolgathering. They would explore any and all solutions, as long as they were working together and continuing to get along.
 
 

meeting notes

bearing a brunt
bear with me
bearing down
bare your brunt
bare with me
bare down
bare down your brunt with me, bear.
down with me, bare brunt.
 
 

the grackles flew

this morning
from the wire
like ink dispersing
in soap water sky

then returning
to the wire
like the inside of
your forearm skin

the grackles flew

this morning
from the wire
like butterflies in
the stomach of desire

then returning
to the wire
like truth perceiving
an infallible notion

the grackles flew

this morning
from the wire
like hair wild
escaping contentment

then returning
to the wire
like pins pinning
placated residuum