Friday, February 15, 2019

HERE WAS I WE ARE


Her face
    open

I step toward

    I'm standing

    behind her eyes
         seeing with my eyes
         through her eyes

night.

We
look down

    sidewalk
    curb
    gutter

    asphalt pocked black

We look up
    doorways lights
    no cars until the cross
         then headlights - white & yellow
         then tail lights - red streamers.

I
close
my
eyes

Hear
through
her
ears

Muffled

a name

Mine?  Hers?

    Neither?

    No matter.

She is
    we are
         walking.

Heels
like
finger
snaps.

Then -

She is/We are
    running

vision
blinking
random/fast

forwarding

frac-tur-ing

She-I
stumble trip fall

air     like deep water

Her/My/Our
hand
stretches catches breaks
    our fall

         then

plain air
clear sight

night

I
Me
I

am watching
am rushing
have rushed
am

    helping

flesh

         dark
         jeans
         leather

I have their warm arm

flesh
    warm

night
    warm

Facing -

Are you…?

         Yes

Good, ok...

         Thanks

Sure
be careful...

         You too

I will

         I will.


RW
Oaxaca City, Mexico
02.13.2019
    
Photo: mine, Guanajuato City

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

The Days of Trump #14


1. The Photo

Donald sits
at the edge
of his chair

Leaning forward

Looking into
the middle distance

Arms resting
on his knees

Hands tensed
fingertips touching

(you've seen the pics)

Pensive -
as if he were
capable of thought.


2.  Michelangelo

Donald sits
at the edge
of his chair

Locked in stone.


3.  Narcissus

Donald sits
at the edge

Leaning forward

Entranced
by the
standing water.


4.  Mount Moriah

Donald sits

His
red
silk
tie

dripping

from
his
throat

God did not stay
the father's hand.

RW
Oaxaca, Mexico
02.12.2019

Thursday, February 7, 2019

FIELD NOTES

Field Notes
Cerro Pelon
Macheros (the Mexico/Michuacan border)
02.02.2019

1.

Lying on a soft century
of pine needles

Air dusted with sun-shot orange

Monarchs
clustered
in tall pines

    drop
    flutter
    glide

A million wings -
a subtle and holy thrum.

2.

A river of butterflies
roll & tumble
down green corridors

A celebration of saints
dance their way
past outstretched arms
to a sunlit field.
    

3.

Dress me in butterflies
Cover me in butterflies
Comfort me with butterflies

My eyes
my eyes
filled with butterflies

Bury me
when you
bury me
in the midst
of butterflies.

RW
Oaxaca,  Mexico
02.07.2019

Tuesday, February 5, 2019

(This was my graduation “dicurso” at the Escuela Falcon in Guanajuato.  This is the “corrected” version. Translation below.)


Su Perro Viejo y El Gángster Original

En Plaza Mexiamore

Abajo los árboles
En un banco

Su perro viejo y O.G.

Calentado por el sol
Enfriado por la sombra
    Estirarnos... y..movernos
         Otra vez y otra vez

No policía...no perrero

Solamente el sol...y..la sombra

Un buen dia.

RW
Ciudad de Guanajuato
25.01.2019

***

The Original Gangster and his Old Dog

In Plaza Mexiamore

Under the trees or
On the bench

O.G. and his old dog

Warmed by the sun
Cooled by the shade
    Stretch...and...move
         Over and over again

No cops...no dogcatcher

Just sun...and...shade

A good day.

RW

Tuesday, December 11, 2018

THE DAYS OF TRUMP #13 - JARED


(13)  JARED

Well, Jared,
there you are
and there it is

the face that launched
a thousand lies.

Bonesaws in your eyes.

Jared,
baby rats are cute,
you would be too,
but you’re hardening.

Your normal half-smirk
has evened out, and
your skull is starting to show –

you’re becoming your own death mask.

Ah, Jared,
it was bound to happen,
money and leisure soften

money and murder

don’t.

RW
12.11.2018

(Yer hangin' with a bad crowd, bubalah)

Sunday, December 9, 2018



SEATTLE WALKING BLUES
 (w/locations where inspired)



There’s a hole in the city                   (Red Apple removal – 23d & Jackson)
where its heart used to be
filling up with concrete
deep as the sea                                   

Every rose has a garden                     (Neighbor’s yard – over the fence)
every spider has a web                       (All week - my yard)
But I don’t have a bed to sleep in       (Not true, I do)

Crows are bedraggled                         (3d & Jackson)
pavement’s hot
my engine’s running
and my brakes are shot

Blocking up the intersection               (4th  & Jackson)
bees in my head
pedestrians are pissed
wishing I was dead

Every rose has a garden
every spider has a web
But I don’t have a bed to sleep in

Sure wanna’ leave here                      (Neighborhood)
would really like to go                         (not really)
and believe me brother
I’d go fast, not slow

Million dollar houses                         (Neighborhood)
coming up on every block
people walking ‘doodles
never look to talk

Every rose has a garden
every spider has a web
But I don’t have a bed to sleep in
No I don’t have a bed to sleep in
Don’t even have a bed to sleep in.


RW
Seattle

(photo:  three cranes in an empty sky - 23d & Jackson)

Thursday, December 6, 2018

TWO YEARS FROM PERFECT VISION




bare winter branches
flaming, red-berried cotoneaster
blue sky

This is the world
two years before we’re blessed
with perfect vision

and we’re up to our knees
in everything we never needed.

This is America
where the sacred
has been in the storm so long
our banners are in tatters.

This is Seattle
where you can’t afford
to go home from work
because work
is the only home
you can afford.

And here I am
counting up my years
wondering how much of the future
I’ll be lucky enough to miss.

RW
Seattle
12.05.2018



(photo:  back yard @ 939 and Judkins Park Earth Day)