These days
tree tops            & candy bombs

(I just liking saying "bombs",
the feel of breaking step
w/ our authorities...)

Bomb! The new dirty word-

                 Cows low in the field,
                 birds spy, & foxes hide;
                 move silently through fences,
                 slip into the hen house

Farmer Jack rants-

____________________________________________________________________________________________

These days

O! I hear the dogs             their sharp teeth
in every bark.                    Geese hiss my rural dreams
into their kennel.
                                          & every Johnny-Come-Lately
takes a kick.
                                          My ribs are bruised,
my nose bloodied,

                                I love.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The mountain teems w/ ants.
Each step alters my relationship w/ it.
As I ascend, does it descend?
Or does it stay, immutable,
while my fortunes change (or perhaps my rise is an illusion)?
Perhaps, each step I take is merely a step within myself,
& where they take me changes nothing about me.
Me like a house, w/ many wings, where rooms sit
empty waiting for me to find them,
                      not create them.