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.