Have you ever tried to ride a horse backwards? Side saddle?


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This is Bomba the baby duck. Similar to Meschoo our pup that I procured after falling in love with the neighbors 2 ducks. Who like the neighbors dog I fell in love with, then disappeared suddenly into a cage, onto a plate, back to the cousins where they came from? Mahina the moon dog became a pig dog and was withdrawn to a grown up life and I as predicted after reading up on the subject. Gored. I don’t know if it was the David Crosby lyrics. “Love the one you are with.” Or that insight that taking drugs was like taking out a loan on your life and Crosby would know because he didn’t just say no to credit cards.

I slept through Mahina yelping, but John heard her and made me aware that he had seen her. He’s taken to sleeping in a tent since Sheree was here. Not far from the neighbors property line. John has always enjoyed public squabbles and usually about the grass. I’m against it. HE’S FOR IT. But back to Mahina. He wouldn’t admit to the visual of her bad eye. From 2 yards away I could see red. The half eyeball bloodshot and missing. Maybe the neighbors would finally let me have her. The neighbors who were miraculously disappeared probably to church. It was a weekend morning. How creepy of me RIGHT? to maintain a working knowledge of their schedules?

This baby duck BOMBA, I’ve tried to forget about giving him up to the promise of inseminating other ducks, the harem. Although I am happy to remember him smartening up about John and chasing him around the yard. I should have insisted we keep him. John used the word mean, that he got mean. Bomba fit into the bath tub in his youth, which wasn’t the most efficient or sanitary method of caring for a duck. None of the other ducks would play with him. He was segregated from the 100 others naturally. I realize this has not been exactly linear, but this isn’t a coliseum arch.




Bess wore black sheer silk stockings with rear seams to temple. Glossy red lipstick, a full length sable coat, and stilettos to according to one source, unabashedly flirt with the cantor. The rabbi hated her as well and she didn’t know this. In Haddasa she was a cappo and organizer. To raise money she culled together the best of the congregation’s recipes for a cookbook. Including her own poppy seed coffee cake and ambrosia. She explained her philosphy that I know now was very much old testament & scholarly. That to believe in G-D was to abstain from revenge or raising a finger against one’s enemies.

The Chicks Are Wild

IMG_5012Last week I pried open Meeschoo’s jaw (again how many times I have I done this?) and retrieved a baby chick covered in drool. She trembled terrified that I might eat her. She couldn’t walk but was spright and imprinted quickly. Desperate to be close to her new mother; I kept her in a cage in the living room, feeding her chick starter and cashew cheese. During the day I would call out to her – Little Bird?!! All excited she would respond. I got her a mirror for company and jingle balls meant for cats. At least once a day a walk around the garden holding her close cooing, simultaneously saying NO! to Meschoo who wouldn’t be deterred and jumped along, nipping. Maybe they could learn to coexist? What a capitol companion, Little Bird  tuning into everything before I did. A neon green lizard leaf hopping. She anchored all the breaking news of the garden, neck extended sounding a Theremin peep alarm 1 minute ahead of the rain falling. John spent hours reinforcing a fence with a finer secondary fence around the apple tree whose apple’s taste like roses. With Meeschoo tied up outside, she lived in the sun two days. I warned John she could shimmy up the tree and fly out. It only took minutes on the day 3 she rushed to Meeschoo’s jaws. I heard the commotion and found her again cupped in my hands – LITTLE BIRD I cried. She was contorting and gasping dark lids sealed already. When I think of my work and what it is I really do, I recognize a chicken doula.


I asked Katie if I could sleep over.
She was my best friend.
When she got worms, I stopped going to the lavatory.
Snakes, macaroni and cheese, even Spaghetti
I quit.
We would watch TV but mostly pretend.
Walking each other thru various scenarios like a talking meditation.
Or a practice.
Pretend we bought an entire furniture store instead of a tiny mansion.
Her brother Mark started dropping in after lights out
wanting a back rub.
Katie did it until she got tired.
Then I Play-Dohed his shoulders.
In the middle of the night with the ocean waving.
He inched his fingers, touching me while I slept.
When he tried to put something inside of me –
from the center of him. I acted like I was waking up.
He wanted our middles to touch.

For sport I would

I want a penis

to practice guitar

full bodied explosions

I’ve heard

immediate sleep afterward

not just a better jerk

but the alleviation

of choked bar chords

and weak rhythm

if I could borrow for song

certain musculature

but then revert back

as fast as a serpent’s tongue

make a retraction

I would