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007 Challenge

Nancy taught me by example.
When our boss
rolled her eyes at father's day,
Nancy prompted. Never intruded
with her own story. So
we listened to a woman
whose ex-husband struggles
with dementia. How his struggle
is the family's struggle. How
he forgets the divorce. How
fingers incapable of cutting food
clutch at pride.

I went to talk to my boss.
Nancy listened to a woman.
 
Ya Znayu, I know (a fact)

TO KNOW A FACT

By JCStreet (c) 2018

Ya znayu, I know
(a fact)
Ya panemayu, I know
smething more complex,
deeper
recondite, perhaps though
not always . . .

Je sais, I know
(a fact)
Je connais, I know
something deeper, something
more murky more
thickly wedded
to the heart's desire

how did
Neanderthal Nate
know the diff?

You couldn't make this stuff up

-30-
 
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When the angry experts
align their weary orbits,
pocketing evidence,
or, worse, practicing crime
novel narratives in empty rooms,

enter the lawyer as hero.
Nobody talks right enough
when sweated. One good
Lawyer: may we each find
one in time.
 
for and or but nor yet so

Simple delivers. Subject
sparks predicate. Cue
Analysts. One champions
"nor" like a relic.

I admit a fondness for
 
Gun Purse

Widows walk differently
almost immediately. Elbows
straighten. Eyes sharp at shadow
down serious barrels.

Some succumb to nostalgia
wading in past sunset,
but some sing. At first hymns,
maybe or blameless tunes
he loved. Their youths eclipse
three seconds of regret.
A deeper breath forgives
what's done, what might be next.
 
Je Connais

Two eyes cannot manage
seeing far or well or sharp
enough for a sure
read. I need brown eyes,
blue eyes, eagle eyes, squid eyes,
eyes for every light. Eyes for no
light. The eyes of your watching.
The eyes of all weeping. The first
blur eyes. The first clear eyes.
The last hour eyes and all
their crystals. Two blinky
tiny eyes are the cause
of first- person shooters.
Luckily eyes are many and much
swifter than squeeze.
 
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Reunion Beach

Time span in hands
ago there was a beach
on a backwater grid.
Short swim out
floats the bag unshredded.
saving still all the poems
poems, poems like a pile
of bones. The notched ends
dovetail words to walk.
Once walked,
flown, breathed, burnt
just shy of ash.
Still this bag
of cells remember rooms
Immune to dust where all
remains are words.
 
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Red dirt Oklahoma is softer,
sadder than Texas. OK don't
talk much or sing like in pictures.
Mama was from Duncan. Summer
pilgrimages were preserved
in labeled jars. Aunt Louise
gardened up beautiful children:
Football players and cheerleaders
dangerously suntanned, but then
Oklahomans accept mortality:
Oceans shift. Sooners win
for a little bit.
 
Live long enough to be a library.
The uttered centuries perfume
solemn shelves past reasonable hours.
Maybe student will manage
Circulation well enough without
knowing the collections as one knows
collagen from calcium, bone
by bone.
 
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Four forty five.
Doesn't matter both thighs
Squeeze a bucking dream.
No matter summertime.
Four forty five
gropes for phone. How many
minutes more bucking
must be bought from snooze?
Fingers twitch at the mute alarm.
 
Goodbye July

Suitcase packed, tickets ready--
kisses bye, July. Thanks for every
floating afternoon eased
downstream. Each low brimmed
sun hat shadow dreamcatching
every shade of orange that could be
squeezed from hilltop sunsets. These
treasures fill a smuggler's pockets
standing casually in the coach
class line with a ticket to August.
 
002

It is easier to forgive a fellow
city orphan. Because remember
piano and winegum Christmas,
walking together against late
sheets of storm. Because
loud laughing down the quiet
and Scrabble. Because unspoken
frailty: the ghost we deny, scoff.
It is easier to forgive my friend
for his stingy tips and politics.
 
Sybill hates happiness.
HAT
ES
happiness but waits
for joy
to assasinate
the fragile, the
gentle, the
joy. Precisely
at 8.

May Sybill's shrivelled heart
eat itself
next time.
 
But what I meant to say was
Wow, how sad you must be that two
people falling in love
made you feel drafty enough
to flashfire the whole house down.

So we rolled in the dust
of different futures. Only,
mine is 40 years longer
than the man you burned.
 
Yes. August. Yes.
I am rising tomorrow
and tomorrow's tomorrow
as promised. I lank bony arms
to knucklebrushed toes
no more than fifteen seconds.
One one-thousand. Two. You
can't stop these lungs today.
Not today.
 
"The man claims to be a scholar: his wife a Dutch television star." -- Interpol Investigates

True, he is high priest
In the Synagogue of Satan.
It's bollocks piled with monarchy,
monogamy and capitalism. Lucifer is
human and will play Abba for cheery
bribes. So that is how Lucifer
gifted me a dungeon expertly
equipped with knots tied to hard
wood. When I stop
talking, he tells me all
my secrets.
 
His eyes met mine
Drawing me into his aura
His boyish grin
Spreading through my being
We were like magnets
The attraction so intense
As we pulled each other close
And became one
 
Your slumber is so peaceful
So sweet
I stroke your hair
And kiss your eyes
Plunging you deeper
Into a dream
And I wonder
If your dream
Is of me
 
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