CLIMBING SUN - POET / AUTHOR / ADVOCACY
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​Musings
heaven rejected
 
the flower full moon just came and went
i’m told it’s the best time to get high
 
not the run-of-the-mill-altered-state
but that once-a-year open portal
 
where your revved-up intuition hits the red line
despite your pineal gland’s calcification
 
where your chakras line up like a rocket on the pad
despite wicked critiques from your live-in lover
 
despite debates whether or not chakras exist
or if your third eye exists—or has ever been unclouded
 
where   if in fact    mister    if you had such a gadget
why not use it to write more visionary   uncluttered
 
uncomplicated   less morose   more lush
more take-our-breath-away couplets
 
slimmer stanzas   with raw illuming elixirs
rather than force-feeding us these obese images
 
like piles of trainwrecks so jack-knifed they will never untangle
cosmic traffic jams so indigestibly gassy
 
even heaven’s open-minded patrolmen   groan
while they go out for donuts `
                                                 May, 2026

  • one flew over the pangolin’s nest 
  •   
    peewee worm gone cuckoo
    born from a voodoo collision 

  • between a bat
    and a person dining on a pangolin
     
    or between a bat
    and a person bitten by a pangolin 
     
    or between a person and a mad pangolin
    previously attacked by a bat
     
    or an undercooked pangolin--
    pecked by a bat—eaten by a person
     
    or an erratically-flying bat captured and dissected
    next to a morbid pangolin in some lackadaisical lab
     
                              or that one bat just out joy-flying                          
  • wafting over a pangolin stand
     
    who zoomed in for a snack
    nipped at the person-in-charge’s hand
     
    as he brushed the creature away
    saw the blood—that sacrilegious blood--
     
    by instinct might have licked that scratch
    probably forgot this brief reflex not even
     
    early next morning awakened beside his wife
    by an evil fever       drenched with alien sweat 
     
    gripped by unseen talons around his neck
    coughing so cruelly the entire world felt sick

     
                                                                                                                    This poem first appeared in the #8 issue
                                                                                                                    Of Midnight Mind Magazine      July, 2025
A Morning with My Inbox
 
We need to talk
 
Still care about protecting wildlife?
Speak up for bighorn sheep
 
Are you extreme too?
The universe has a special message just for you
 
It may not seem like a lot but…
the moon noticed
 
Manatees may lose protection--
your cells lose their spark
 
Sign the petition—restore voting rights
Earn a gift card
 
This is personal—tariffs are a headache--
the people are rising
 
Midweek sanity oasis--
in search of the perfect chip
 
Why wild salmon?
You won’t feel like crap anymore
 
A goddess exposes strange news:
Your perfect self is hiding in plain sight

A secret wants to reveal itself:
The fate of gray wolves is up to us
 
Solar news of the day--
tough road ahead
 
The same old fine print…
It’s pure corruption
 
Why you won’t be alone this New Year’s:
Support arrives from      nowhere
 
Thank you for your contribution
 
 
(These one-liners were lifted verbatim, then shuffled)

​
           ​welcome to the aftermath club                                    
 
the squares are bustling                                   
money passes in and out of a dirty river        
 
science types break the ground                      
coaxing it to squeeze out more fuel                 
 
homes are an endangered species                
whole campuses are binge drinking               
 
empaths cry for mother mangrove                   
to save us from our daily misdeeds                 
 
clocks hang like rigid slate                                
stuck in their patterns to cause us anguish    
 
we can start by puncturing their faces             
then cramp and smash their hands                  
 
to no longer hold us back                          
from crossing into the great state of flux     
 
where the utopia river has been gushing    
good-naturedly within its welcoming banks   
 
inviting our minds to jump into the raft             
our hearts had so subliminally built                
 
long before this frolicking chaos                       
distracted us with its addicting disco              

 
                                          
 

shaman in the corner
 
whether you’re on a sunset sail
standing in a waterfall
waiting to go on stage at the club
showering post waves at the beach
 
whether you’re cooking Italian
lecturing to a raccoon for littering
weeping for the wolves and wetlands
mastering pigeon pose in the park
 
whether you’re singing so big mammals thrive
yelling at the pelicans to guard the seas
swimming in a turtle-rich turquoise ocean
dancing on a deck
while full moon rises and heavy sun sets 
 
keeping heaven on earth from becoming a memory
praying as if words will have an effect
 
from his corner
cross-legged the shaman nods
sits ready with a blessing pipe
sends out an approving ripple
hinting if you stay in motion
all might be made whole
 
meantime
while your body acts
as if it’s busy living forever
the shaman can no longer
hold back his one instruction:
 
mind your head
                                                                First appeared in the Sept, 2023 Issue of Sequoia Speaks

​

outsmarted

4/17/2023

15 Comments

 
​we have really done it now
last month we shot a dart into a cute little moon
peacefully orbiting its mommy asteroid
seven million miles away
knocking it silly
 
imagine just having a pleasant star-time day
then getting knifed by a sharp blade
traveling at fourteen thousand miles an hour
all because the science girls and boys tell us 
this bow and arrow might save us someday
 
they claim to have looked back sixty-six million years 
when our lush rock got jolted 
by a six-mile-wide angry piece of broken star
[ncoming at forty-five thousand miles an hour
releasing the force of a billion hiroshimas 
 
a fiery rooster-tail plume of earth rock 
shot halfway to the moon
local temperatures hemorrhaged 
many times hotter than the sun’s surface
fire-storming the mammal-packed forests 
 
oceans tsunamied over the land
followed by a deep sunless freeze 
below methane and carbon-soaked skies
spiked with sulfuric acid rain 
leaving a few microbe clusters to struggle
   
we beat the odds 
evolving out of the spoiled dinosaur-rich soup
and poisoned soil
to become the new royalty on the rock
 
maybe the creator was so freaked 
by what had been wrought
we were granted a brain capable of deflecting 
the next random asteroid
 
maybe the science kids are onto something
or just maybe some more refined organism
will spring forth after our self-created collision 
with reality
15 Comments
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