Paint-By-Numbers (Memory)
 
1 cardinal in the alley behind the adobe house on Coal Avenue
2 mockingbirds again nesting in the thorn tree outside a yoga studio
3 starlings daring to stand in newly-turned Albuquerque garden dirt
8 orange-crowned kinglets flick at eye level, deep in Alamo Canyon
13 cedar waxwings on Chinaberry branches above an Arizona canal
 
[RK, 5/28/23]

Arrow Talk

a paper plate punctured with holes
a philosophical solution in the bullseye
the twang as you let loose barrages
creating holes to record missing dreams
white picnic scrolls ruptured with
burls of X-rays, surveillance videos,
screen shots, tree limbs dripping moss
epiphytes spring up along your
winter limbs

[RK, 5/28/23]


The Squeaky Wheel

Toad of Toad Hall
abandons his roadster
in favor of an Elon Musk rocket

the calliope won’t fit in the space capsule
nor will the samovar I expected you to pack
polish, place of pride
on Ganymede or Europa  

colored pencils and chalks
conveniently incinerated
heating endless cups of tea
singing a bonfire to life.

[RK, 5/28/23]

Los Colores (Memory, Albuquerque, New Mexico)

last day in the city walking streets and alleys
a temporary respite from saying goodbye
pastel houses in the oldest neighborhoods
not one word remembered
a photograph remains, my torn blue denim jacket
your black wool overcoat

[RK, 5/28/23]

Chile (Memory, Santa Fe, New Mexico)

Obsessive compulsive bird watcher last seen falling
from the interstate highway in favor of the jeep track.
That first morning on the balcony in Santa Fe
we were on the road to the isolation wards
one for you one for me and we turned away from them
even as we fell into the comrade manifesto.

Instead testing the updrafts
vultures, eagles, and hawks in passing
they were American birds and always the same
bland and predictable.
Falling onto the motel bed, embracing you
imagining the exotic Andean Condor, dreaming of Chile.

[RK, 5/28/23]

Somniosus microcephalus (Sabbatical)

the studio has become a monastery
filled with the ghosts of Greenland sharks
sleeper sharks, blind and long-lived

leaving teeth marks on your scissor collection
inhaling entire masterpieces, rapidly digesting
everything you left unfinished

apex ego predator, fishy magician of the
anima and animus within you, yin-yang
of once must-tell story-telling

not lost, only forgotten
awaiting inspiration and invocation.

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Cinderella

snow falls on cinders in a public park fire pit
near the lakeshore, iced over, over easy

a convenient marriage for this sister in her
Victoria’s Secret see-through glass shoe

she rakes the ashes of the past, imagines sparks
flickers, heat, a pot of stone soup above a fire

tangos with the dream of abandoning
the falsity of fairy-tale romances

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Spirals (Memory Sandia Crest, New Mexico)

skunk cabbage along the trail
avalanche boulders, quaking aspen
zigzag dirt, random riprap steps

on Sandia Crest a nutcracker makes plans
ravens strut across asphalt, glean scraps
house sparrows dot chain link fences

autumn’s muddy Rio Grande to the west
beyond it a petroglyph landscape
where time is measured with thin layers

desert varnish, owl pellets, rodent bones
spirals connecting ancient storyteller hands
with scoured mountainside paths

[RK, 5/26/2023]


Craving Warmth (Memory Albuquerque, New Mexico)

hands scented with gum Arabic and solvents 
fluorescent lights switched off 
heat left on at seventy-two degrees 
printing presses settle into dreams 
Earth’s winter tilt brings new constellations 
starlight prickles bare cottonwoods 
I imagine the warmth of distant stars 

a cold adobe on Dartmouth Street 
thermostat turned low to save money 
plastic bread bags washed and reused 
scrubbed until the printed labels are lost 
clipped to curtains above a kitchen sink 
drips refract morning’s weak sunlight 

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Flatland (Memory Flagstaff, Arizona)

judicious polygonal Flatland daguerreotypes
lulled to sleep along with Tom Sawyer and Jim
rafting effortless rivers-to-end-all-rivers
balanced on a new age equinox cusp
tentative, precise: sibilant with aspirations
usually sequestered in dusty perennial memories

force-fed stereotypes jangled into high desert wind
crumpled grasshopper husks beneath the tiller’s web
narrow what-you-will beets surviving frost
bush beans dried to compressed flatulence
dewy leaves patina straw-ensconced squash

Thai pepper bushes reconfigured as potted house plants
Pompeii moth finality of sunflower whorls
owl, raven, piñon jay, kestrel, nighthawk
antelope and deer, field mouse and vole
inexorable mesh of autumn’s greasy gears

Arctic cold front, rapid mountaintop snow
dill weed and choking vinegar steam, stream
horse manure and kitchen compost posit
kitsch images against winter’s bad breath

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Run-Away Dream

Luanne keeps arriving
plants her pickup truck 
outside your front door
years later lavender flourishes

you sharpen the scythe
wheat waves wash
your storm windows 
into Possession Sound

[RK,5/26/2023]

World’s Largest Ball of String Redux (Overworked Seamstress)
 
the thread, the needle, the bassinet
mending the marionette’s tatted and tattered
harlequin masquerade, yet
she never counted the cost
of a lost stitch widening into a gap of night 
sticky as flypaper starlight

remember that rattling automaton fortune teller
in a dusty warehouse they called a museum?
she needs more then five cents to make a go of it
riches, health, many children, happiness, joy

like you
she senses the falling sky, the five worst things 
that could happen to her
prior to her actual disappearance

[RK, 5/26/2023]

3-D Calligraphy Flashback Trigger

inky blink
tangled skein
spinning, thinking

spiral macaroni
the childhood discovery
tossed salad recall

water cycle, carbon cycle
environmental webs
dragging us to the moon

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Séance

you were seen
eating a delicious book, 
basting the binding
seasoning pages with ink
cutting paragraphs into pasta strips
tripping on wise cracks at the séance 
because you couldn’t put it down

you passed a soup tureen and hoarded
verbs and bon mots to yourself
filled pockets with pronouns and
prepositions to nibble on in the studio
after the lights came back on

you were unable
to understand ectoplasmic voices
table rapping, and sad wraiths
in spite of  the words 
you swallowed, engendered, gave birth to

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Binary Code (Memory Nova Scotia)

blue for sky and the false promise of indigo 
we push against sea fog, gape at rubber-clad ice-water surfers 
atmospheric particles scatter light from one end 
of the spectrum 
physics for the uninitiated 

background color to each day same as 
cosmic radiation and dark matter 
which scientists say fills the known universe 

Lawrencetown Beach Provincial Park 
along Nova Scotia’s Atlantic coast 
the curl of blue-green waves  
push a steeply angled brick red beach 
into a spectrum of smoothly rounded rocks 
Naples yellow, burnt orange, pale rose 
chromium oxide green, royal purple 
pink, grey, and brown 
yet 
photoshopping turns everything into 
a black and white universe 
which philosophers call reality 

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Art Imitates Life (Memory Flagstaff, Arizona)

blue and yellow warblers flit, alight, blow away in the storm 
ferruginous hawks seek a still perch 
swaying meadowlarks, raven clouds, flocks of pinyon jays 
nighthawks in harsh crepuscular light 
goldfinch, sparrow, watch them beat into the wind 
and leave behind fresh colors 

prairie dogs effect underground changes 
cow, sheep, and horse manure matches 
bindweed, pine needle, cornstalk, squash vine 
strong wind off the San Francisco Peaks 
the pointed decay of seasonal weather 

outbuildings peeled, warped, scored with 
fractal patterns reflected in clouds, feathers, horse’s hooves 
ruts and puddles in meandering dirt roads 
fences flake creosote and rust 
a single tree in the middle of the field 
tipped with tight purple buds dead 
from an early spring freeze 

measuring, recording, recreating the changes 
on the surface of copper etching plates 
scratching, scoring, letting my hand wander  
the real world’s obvious message distilled  
metal sheets eventually oxidize 
become the represented objects 

[RK, 5/26/2023]

In the Canyon (Memory Prescott, Arizona)
 
the day shakes like wet linen  
panther clouds stalk the rain  
the light does a quick turnabout  
the sun is dozens of egg yolks dotting puddles 
spring comes with wind and blue light  
furtive rodents and insects  
crawl from under last year’s skeletons  
reproduce and avoid the weather 

so many yellow or white-crowned birds  
auspicious red twigs and brown quail 
diffused warbler smoke 
careening canyon doves 
empty sparrows push the new road 
melt the raven wind 
all peep and stare at me through the blind 
like I owe them something 

[RK, 5/26/2023]
 

Saffron (Memory Albuquerque, New Mexico)

Saffron please tell me you remember 
how morning light illuminates 
a faded fallen alley fence 
butterscotch, lemon, canary, amber, gold 
how commuters leave tiny cumulous clouds 
of carbon monoxide on Coal Avenue 
our precious lives, our moments slipping away 
black percolator coffee, filter cigarettes 
mismatched cups, bare cupboards 
a silent rotary telephone 
tell me you remember the last day 
cedar waxwings illuminating bare trees 
Albuquerque’s slow fade into autumn 

[RK, 5/26/2023]

Salad Days

Rice paper, India ink, thread,

fire, water, wet ash,

mud. 

Weed seed, weed, bird 

song, swallowtail,

feast. 

[LSS, 5/25/23]

Recursive

I am writing 

this story all 

over again but 

it is not 

the same story  

I am writing 

now or now 

or now or 

now.

[LSS, 5/17/23]

 

Honeymoon Island 

Walking slow, collecting seashells  
even though you said: no more seashells, no clinging 
facing west at sunrise, gulls and gannets hover  
plovers, peeps, and petrels pace the best spots 

distinguish watermelon rind from kelp 
discern dead fish from dog leavings   

I’ll paste together an anathema of this week’s high points 
depleted battery of your camera eyes 

feet throbbing at the end of the day 
the keyboard slipping from your lap, 
endless cups of tea gone cold and frosted with lint 

I’ll devise a fool-proof method for telling our future 

grains of sand in my paper coffee cup 
a peculiar curl on the odd-numbered waves 
crack-the-whip cloud shadows on the estuary 
four seashells I gave you 
even though you said: no seashells 

[RK, 5/17/2023]


I Can Do That (after Figure and Ground)

Jennifer Bartlett I bought your coffee table book 
almost two hundred pages of the same 
damn pond and pissing cherub fountain 

wanna-be art ingenue, I said oh yeah 
I can do that, just let me 
find the correct spot
where the light complacently shifts within each hour, day and season 
where I can translate foliage, water, and seclusion  
with a better-than-passable grasp of a different language 
photographing bored shepherds in La Mancha 
sketching Japanese macaques in Yamanouchi 
painting ancient rigged Swedish harbor ships 

I end up shelving you 
with other oversize art books 
think about taking chances, the unknown versus 
food, shelter, friendship, and security 
think about the meaning of Art with a capital A 
think about how to once again
be professional, passable, and profitable 
without the blessing of a Baedeker, passport, or pen pal 

[RK, 5/17/2023]

Envy (Memory Prescott, Arizona)

this circus realm is one discordant voice 
a puzzle of green  
I wander among inedible grasses 
estimate the progress of plants 

Latin names are lost in a mushy mix-up 
the dry tangle of the reptile weekend  
pale thorn shadows scratch legs, comb fur  
bend embryonic twigs 

purple irises push away the reward  
the common analogue of ascent  
the ionosphere cushions an endless stream 
scientific rays push down 

bronze bee daggers glean orange stamens 
a lucid sting 
hair, skin, fingernails, teeth 
tomorrow’s grain harvest  

rake tines and the crumbled property of a distant sport 
stray method dogs push the glue of meaning  
distinct and inky fingers limn the envious callus  
and facetious sinking heel 

the canyon marks the passage of wild animals 
their tough-guy story extracts pink ululations 
sheaves of algae twist the brown wire,  
bright and cold days filled with red thorns 

[RK, 5/15/2023]

 

Zen Viand Manifesto

squeeze between the baskets and bins
pull up, push in, remount, assess pliability
quote, reiterate, pinch, prod, procure

anise, leeks, enoki mushrooms, endive, garlic, tomatillos, white asparagus, bean sprouts, banana buds, red cabbage, eggplant, daikon radish, plantain, curry, bamboo shoots, parsley, okra, mustard greens, fennel, yams, habanero, garlic, radicchio, bok choy, green onions, licorice, peanut oil, cilantro, soba noodles, apple cider vinegar, mustard seed, pickled radishes, turmeric, powdered rosemary, peppermint, tofu, thyme, crushed bay leaves, green peppercorns, dried morels, cocoa powder, rye flour, turbinado sugar, molasses, wheat germ, dried corn, vermicelli, saffron, salt

skillet, pot, pan, pastry blender, whisk, spatula, wooden spoon, tongs, skewer, testing fork, mixing bowl, salad bowl, teacup, cookie tin, coffee cup, plate, salad fork, chopsticks, soup spoon, tureen, slotted spoon, kettle, peeler, paring knife, bread knife, carving knife, octopus knife, cleaver, mallet, wok, steamer, crock pot, sieve, steamer, ramakin

gold leaf, satisfaction, sulfur, beeswax, iodine, liquid hydrogen, shark tooth, communion, daisy, caravan, linoleum, contraceptive, spider, carbon, savanna

water, copper, silence, clock, bed
water, copper, silence, clock, bed

[RK, 5/15/2023]

Somnambulant

I am writing this story

as if

I remember this story

clearly

I am writing this story.

[LSS, 5/8/23]

 

Harry

I made a detour to walk through the cemetery
that always puts me in a pensive, forgiving mood
most of the graves were older, no death dates past the 1980s
Harry was born in 1812 and died in 1898

I imagine a good life from an idyllic time
a piano in the parlor, fresh vegetables and
cow milk free from hormones
before there were motorcars or aeroplanes
television, telephones, the internet
just barely overlapping
the introduction of radio and electrification

but I can also imagine being born
into the 1918 flu pandemic, slavery,
the Civil War, racism, the Underground Railroad,
the Seminole Wars, Native American removal,
Reconstruction, disenfranchisement, segregation,
the Spanish-American war, and lynchings,
woven through his life

and I imagine a good life for Harry
and a shit life for so many others

made a detour to walk through a cemetery
that always puts me in a pensive mood
today I am not forgiving

[RK, 5/7/23]


Facing the Same Way

I never thought of this before
but the graves in cemeteries almost always face the same way.
How neat and orderly.
Like desks in my old grade schools and high schools.
Then thinking if neat and orderly desks,
(I’ve sat in some that were so old they were bolted to the floor),
are our preparation for death.
Is that what I was subtly and subconsciously absorbing all those years?

[RK, 5/7/23]

Lacuna

I carved those numbers,

I, II, III, IV, V, 

into that stone wall 

as finger and toe holds 

to that open window, 

that blank page.

[LSS, 5/2/23]

Sentence

I was seen

carrying a book, 

an open book, 

tripping on cracks 

in the sidewalk,

unable to understand 

the words I 

was born into. 

[LSS, 5/2/23}

Another Mark

Like the I, II, III, IV, V
on the wall of a Latin stone cell
you might imagine it slimy, algae-like
with water dripping from an open window
high above the day-to-day
incriminations and executions

by that I mean
the daily grind, the nose,
the grindstone

if you look closely you will notice
that spinning wheel and the slimy wall
are cut from the same quarry



Invocation (The Artist)

the first trick, getting other artists to do
part of the work
it was fun and original
it was because I’d run out of ideas

my omnipotent dealer did not care
a signature meant nothing but
a commission, a share
ten years, a decade, tick-tock

the second trick was to trick myself
into believing I could direct thoughts
through disparate channels
because I’d again, run out of ideas

three decades later the push-me-pull-you effect
is negligible, invoked like a prayer
for unbelievers who continue
to run out the clock on inspiration



Ash

ghosts wander the bookstore
Miwa is firmly ensconced in Kyoto
that much I know

you would think ashes and water
make mud
a glue tethering us to the past

ghosts wave to me from yesterday
I’m frantically writing all of this down
on flammable paper

you would think the hard drive
is invincible
you would be wrong

[RK, 5/1/23]

Killer Whale

something clueless, unattended, gaunt
lingering, makes itself known
the unexpected percolation
the killer whale, kind to humans, crossed with
Gregor Mendel’s punnett squares
delicately fertilized by Luther Burbank,
producing something black and white,
clueless, unattended, gaunt.
 
 
Recalcitrant Donkey

the donkey, a medieval ass
sweet as aspartame, stevia, carrots
stevedore chanties

assuming the cloak of invisibility
once the realm of Kal-El, and this
before his Iowa peregrinations

finding himself abandoned
on the way to St. Ives, listening to
The Pardoner’s Tale

Italy, twelfth century, the atonal
wind ripples the surface of
Lake Garda

and the medieval ass
assured of a place
in this internet history


Life-At-A-Glance

the lance, the spruce, the
rock-a-bye baby in the treetop

the spear, the chariot
Blake’s Jerusalem

the jab, the harlequin beetle
flush with reproduction

the stumble, the cookie jar
opals litter the outback

[RK 5/1/23]