Never Trust a Flower

Scandalous Linnaeus
Realized pistils held
Ovules, anthers pollen,

And eventually
Others realized all
Kinds of combinations

Happened among flowers
Also harnessing bees,
Moths, bats, breezes, humans,

Anything to make sex
Work for them. Anything
That works is the motto

Of life, of survival,
Of all lust, all power.
Never trust a flower.

How Is a Deep Riddle

Like to a shallow truth?
Neither moves the needle.
The needle never moves.

Never was a needle.
Ok, maybe there was.
Got to measure something.

Matter. Energy. Light.
Dark. Compare. Be surprised.
Truth riddles every night.

Out and About in the Offing

You want to understand
What’s important to you.
You need to understand

That what you may not ask
To understand has its
Distant importance, too.

When the ship sailing on
Your important trade routes
Dwindles, not to one point

From your shore’s point of view,
But hull first to mast last,
That’s an important clue.

Dragons and Demons and the Dark Unknown

God, how you love
Your night terrors,
Your dream monsters,
Your memories

Mutated you
Keep mutating.
That’s the best way
You know to match

Against this world
Of the shifting
Yesterdays—dream
Of mixing dreams

In your skull bowls,
As if your games
Could ever win
A war on change.

How to Want Things to Be

A life has to long
Or it wouldn’t be
Alive. Not a cell
Of you, not one cell
On its own, isn’t

Hungry all its life
For whatever will
Keep its form of life
Alive. You’re special,
You think, if at all,

For thinking you want
Events to occur
That aren’t your hunger
Talking—a better
World, happier day,

Joy and contentment,
Justice and some peace.
True, you are odd beasts.
But your wants are wants,
Even if they’re not

Yours, entirely, more
Like our wants pulling
You to imagine
A past rearranged,
Ideal for ideas.

Anosmiac

You sleep fine. Your receptors
Don’t lock on to anything.
Your life’s bland. It doesn’t stink.

It’s never heartbreakingly
Lush and hardly ever sweet.
A faint bitterness. Some salt.

Sour, occasionally, sure.
That’s it. The normal verdict
Would be it’s hardly worth it,

But why not? You know the fire
Is out there. You can see haze
From all the smoke in the air.

You can hear the hovering
Choppers like perverted bees,
Bringing fragile firefighters

Straight to the pollen of sparks
Flying on the breeze. You think,
Might as well wait. Tomorrow

Can consume itself as well
As yesterday. If your bed
Burns, it burns. Might as well stay.

Some Completely Undistinguished Poems

Patterns, funny.
You need readers
Or eyes and ears.
They must decide

If these patterns
Sign something new—
Revolution,
Blood confession,

Rare metaphors—
Unknown before.
And if they don’t,
Sturdy as words

Alone may last,
The lines are doomed
Unless dumb luck
Makes them fossils.