A Good Animal Day

 

Ladybugs popped out of his ears

as he emerged from the hollow log.

 

She snapped one and they scooted

to the dam, did yoga, then ignoring

 

the downward facing sign,  they raced

to the water.  He won, but, she thought

 

to splash him – truly taking the title.

Examining the broken mushroom top,

 

concluding it looked like a human ear;

reminded of Blue Velvet.  Backward

 

hike easing frontal leg pains journeying

to the nature center.  The injured

 

Merlin with his tiny head and striking

beak, patient on her hand.  Owls

 

analyzing onlookers.  Albino peacock

not as bizarre as albino turkey vulture.

 

Leather skin tree bark.  The ass

and pony groomed and soft

 

despite their years on Earth.  Black

chalky amber-eyed goats appearing

 

ignorant, confused, and innocent.

Adolescent pig caged alone; energetic

 

roaming her wired perimeter.  Two

roosters enticing inside the hen’s den.

 

Inside their den that night discussing

if they want a baby of their own.

 

 

Roots

 

Bowie dying is awful news for a hangover;

a Monday after painting with madmen

between the days eight years ago

Myles, comatose in bed, skull removed

with tubes thrust up his nose,

laid waiting for his wings to grow.

 

I call the paintings Roots.  A new series.

Painting, watching a movie about hiking

for months along a long trail – loss often

demands a journey.  The flashbacks take me

back when walking the mountain trails

Myles and I planned doing after graduation.

 

 

Wishing Townes was Around

to Drink Bourbon with

 

 

Sad seventies country music

on a misty Cincinnati Saturday

is like a fine cigar matched

with bourbon; a match made

for wick, a drop made to wick,

a comfort held with.

 

–Maxwell Redder