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 'til 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 -

BANG

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

watching

rushing

have rushed

am

    helping

dark flesh

         jeans

         leather

I have their
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

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

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

(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

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)

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               (4^th  & 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)

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)