Grok

the temporary rhizome

spreads leafless tranquil

over Rocky Mountain up drafts

dirt switch back

gravel pack rats make camp

rustle with squirrels

nag chomp head wind

hatch the dawn

comes from the West.

oaky morning brew

joe on the balcony

smiling at the yellow horizon

purple ribbed jewel

of the sun

            negligent            careless

            of the known—

do not matter

                        when fall begets

                        my burlap back sap

nature’s tap

on my cold weather still

grinds the grizzly gone to Wyoming

lumberjack passes

between and under mountains

crick simple

mouth water

and candle

sage, time            red ribbons

wrapped about its body

bread                         to suffer

burning castle wood

rock and clay—

i eat Earth intravenous

silver hibiscus liquid

Mercury, Mars

and Venus

my mother, between us

and the sun.

be at peace

and lay down beside me

when you are 20 hours away—

this last clock                        square

on the mantle

and in my parent’s kitchen

in Maryland

                        the same one here

and what does it say?

the laws of man

                          are suspended

in the pale Milky Way

                          bowing to the night

subtle candor

                        blinking barely

at the soft swatch of hair

straying from my habit—

the last thing i want

is to be left here

when the cold drum comes

to pound parade ranks

down our Berlin guns.

mountains bud their berry canyons

raccoons sweep their patios

     clean their paws

hands, with opposite thumbs

to unlock the front door

is sideways—

                        this end up

because            pipe lines

            are fragile.

rachet the hatches

and seal down the mattress

to the cold metal floor

the studio, the cabin

the cave in which to hibernate

sunder heartily

the winter

the sun                                the snow

            break through

the fog                         of Clydesdale horses

triumphant

                        in our broad wools

knitted hooves

                        cradle cobblestones

over dead bone cobwebs

closets                        and ancestors

wrapped up in the basement

the soot fireplace

resilient                        stalwart

fortress                        blue

cement building blocks

mark the eye from the dirt long driveway

Douglas Fir pinecones

open from the Fort Collins fire

50 miles away

black smoke rings

laced with moth wing

and moon rocks.

Mary unlocks the fetters

on my toadstool brain

sends rain down the canyon

to fill up the valley

b‘fore we can flood ourselves out to be saved.