Wednesday, May 27, 2015

When we build we also Destroy

Hear the cry of the Forest

The city  is built on the Grave of the Forest

When we build we also destroy

We rush forward determined engines of progress

Paving our way into the future,
Building monuments to our dominion,
Making and deconstructing in the same breath

Losing in that moment the Joy of its presence
And the inner light that makes us Alive.
We must take time out in this modern world,
To hear The Cry of the Forest buried beneath the City Streets.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Old Men want Us to go to war

Old Men want Us to go to war , but they don't want to pay or die

I believe the decision to go to war again should involve all of 

America debating the matter. I'm for a war tax in addition to 

bringing back the military draft. Both the war tax and 

conscription will give everyone in America a real stake in any 

decision on going to war, and force the Political and 

economic powers to think twice before they make a 

commitment to send their Children to war

great weather here in Bozemangeles but cold

Friday, May 8, 2015

Filling up in Billings

Rainbow People 

at the Kum & Go

Asking for spare change,

bought them coffee

and gave them $10 bucks

they named their twin sons 

Romulus and Remus 

and the kids slept

in a van filled with books

Thursday, May 7, 2015

Beers at the Rocking R

May 7 I'm not him

Having a cold beer At The Rocking R

watching snow flurries on main St.

The girls at the table behind me doing shots

and cursing “That Son of a bitch!”

sure glad I,m not him

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Demons walk among us, but we all hold them at arms length


April 16, 2015: Reasons to Survive November, Tony Hoagland

Reasons to Survive November
Tony Hoagland

November like a train wreck—
as if a locomotive made of cold
had hurtled out of Canada
and crashed into a million trees,
flaming the leaves, setting the woods on fire.

The sky is a thick, cold gauze—
but there’s a soup special at the Waffle House downtown,
and the Jack Parsons show is up at the museum,
full of luminous red barns.

—Or maybe I’ll visit beautiful Donna,
the kickboxing queen from Santa Fe,
and roll around in her foldout bed.

I know there are some people out there
who think I am supposed to end up
                in a room by myself

with a gun and a bottle full of hate,
a locked door and my slack mouth open
          like a disconnected phone.

But I hate those people back
from the core of my donkey soul
and the hatred makes me strong
and my survival is their failure,

and my happiness would kill them
so I shove joy like a knife
into my own heart over and over

and I force myself toward pleasure,
and I love this November life
where I run like a train
deeper and deeper
into the land of my enemies.