My Mother-in-law

 

My mother-in-law remembers

when the Red Army revolutionized

the eon old culture in China

A poor city girl with nothing

still had nothing, but hope

 

Riding her bike

on the auto jammed

no shoulder highways

she spent her youth in a factory

Making the clothing

i used to wear

and i didn’t care

because i didn’t know.

 

As a young woman

she found she would

raise another girl in

that no chance for a girl

culture, but America beckoned

and the family flew to

the granite slabbed streets

between Prince and Spring

My wife was six

and my mother-in-law

had the rights of an

illiterate immigrant

 

Mouths agape and winter winds

stabbing through the cracks

of their shoddy slum apartment

she went to the only place she knew:

The Chinese Factory

Cut from the Himalayan alluvium

hidden between the high rises

of the suit and tie

high heel steppers

who spent their time in

glass and steel

ignoring that glimpse

of the cracked brick building

in China Town

as steam snuck from

the irons when they pressed

my jeans and shirts

without a tariff.

 

Breathing in that steam

blowing out rainbow colored

snot and boogers

she spent as much time

behind the sewing machine

as our youth spends in front

of the plasma screen

for six days a week.

On the seventh day

she took her family

Out to Dim Sum

giving them their

hearts desire

which is what it cost her.

 

And when first i met her

she lavished me with gifts.

A country boy

with head cocked up

to the manmade peaks.

She dressed me like a lord

and fed me like a prince

(Even when her worn out shoes

painfully corned her feet)

How she could

on pennies a piece?

I can hardly understand.

Even after my rich

Wall Street uncles

took her stocks and ran.

She bought the house

and car i tend

She taught my wife to love

She cared for my three sons at birth

And her hands she’ll still lend.

 

 

 

Day Light Savings Time?

 

Day light savings time?

            What are we saving?

Keeps us in the factories

longer

losing time

with family

and friends.

            Have you heard our babies

cry, losing sleep

confused and knowing

that we are losing.

Loves lost

creating machines of Death

in what they called

“The Good War.”

            They lie

            Their preoccupation with

Murder

Power

Control

proves War harbors the evil

Wicked Lords and politicians on trophy

            pedestals erected when

You were working on daylight savings

Time!

Time to find our natural rhythm

different, though harmonious for each

Individual.

We need to terminate the time

Change so we can save our time

and put an end to their regime.

 

 

Amaranth

 

have you stopped

considered the pigweed

grains of amaranth seed

ten years dropped

 

with young shrouded mullien

lambsquarter, dock

underground stock

seasonally growing

 

always knowing

how to tend all of us

in ground so prosperous

ever sowing

 

i have uprooted you

just to sow

what i know

not knowing what or who

 

you and your weedy friends

fortune

medicine

feed us at the world ends

 

 

Morning commute

 

cool crisp wind

cut into wakes,

my face

the blade

the smooth surfaced

turbulent

Willamette

to my side

comes to me

and speaks a throaty

beakon, making preparation

for their flight

towards the waist

of our world.

Sounding so brave

and isolated, they fly

from a broken

bottle-neck machine.

Pooling their strength

from a time of

heaven shrouded darkness.

when we all knew

how to ask

for anything,

everything...

 

over my shoulder

the hazy peach

sky meets with vanilla

warming my heart

i thank the miracle

of our star,

bringing us

to the ambient beauty...

once in the present

we dance in the moment

submition and control

love and fear

in the present

guiding us to take

her, and entertwine

in love. We always

create our world.

everything...

peddaling hard i open

my arms, and coast...

gliding through the air

with our kindred

sky runners.

 

 

Collapse

 

I used to dream of revolution.

Like an expansive green lawn,

bordered by ornamental trees,

with armed guards at the gate.

 

But the artificial shit burnt

my nostrils!

 

Now i watch the collapse,

like a broken lawnmower,

leaking petrol on the dappling green.

 

 

Most likely you

That Goddamn fucking polyester tag

hanging from my cheap

cotton shirt

            Fashioned to look like

            What they have

Rubs at my back

top and bottom.

Red and ichy

like the Red 40

in everything

they eat.

            LD-50

            What’s that?

National Campaign drives

Standardizing our stations

of  commerce.

Who wants to reflect

From the silhouette of a faded

technology Ad?

through thick glass.

            According to marketing

studies

Most likely you

don’t know.

but who cares, especially

with that polyester digging

between your shoulder

blades           the

base of your spine.

            Look at that tag.

            That company hurt you.

Their president wears tailored suits with

silky tags, or none at all.

            Who votes

for him?

Most likely you

don’t know.

 

 

 

 


Powered by MosaicGlobe.