There may or may not be an animal nearby.

god damn these traps
in the woods, we were spider hunting.
i wore sandals with flashing red lights
on that day
near the tree line by the interstate.
in case you ever wondered while driving
what exactly is there,
the leaves are untouched
covering the holes
three feet deep.
i fell in to be just out of reach.

my jar is empty while nursing scratches
and burning ticks.

those holes don't stay there.
and my jar remains open.
weaving through long grass,
don't go into the long grass.

I always cling to the hope of
seeing something greater
more dominant.
extinct megafauna proudly
snorting towards me.
so now the spiders take refuge
in the jar.

fuck it, i still think it's real.

i'm there on the beach, cute as a button
frantically asking everyone
around me if they saw it.
and of course they didn't and i am alone again.

i wish i could talk to that boy
long enough for him to convince me
he saw the giant hermit crab legs upside down
reaching out from the sea
before sinking back below the surface.
it's legs revealing
it's magnificent size.
it's home easily bigger than mine.
did you see it?

We Remembered the Alamo

Nothing incredibly specific.
A dilemma of sorts.
Ah! But that was many years ago.

I remember the way.
I want to travel 95 to 26 to 40.
And the curvy mountain roads
all the way home.
I remember Swannanoa
and Kathleen of course.
We should have used
those waterballoons to
put out the burning cross
in front of Tarbell's house.

Too late of course
while I ride this string of pelicans
til one day we will say
damn, it has been too long.

A Celebratory Collectable

1. The Logo

a coffee cup in the sink
with dark running splotches
washed away by dawn.
rising upwards like the Mackinac Bridge
with sheets of water
traveling
in the opposite direction of the lifting steel,
clasping to the land to be walked all over.
"Jesus, wash my feet, my pedi is at noon.
St. Ignace will not be kept waiting."

2. The Bridge

a new project of estimable worth
without taking into account:
the location doubles as a place to lay our swords
if we can't make it to the other side.
did the divers know their tiny hand prints
would be marketed?
it seems so silly to me now.

Dumb robots.

it is a sign of what's to come.
the end isn't nearly near enough.
By god! my car will drive me around
and suggest the sauce of my wings
mild
hot bbq
lemon pepper.
Too many to choose.
leave it to the rubber android
never sleeping with me.
he's up all night
honking at the neighbors and
distant sounds or even the low
hum lullaby the light post emits.

Woodstock & Hobbes

i have an affection
of inscrutable origin.
it makes me feel
as if we are all connected.
no matter the appropriation
of souls.
although I still enjoy eating
what i enjoy
watching graze
or
just thinking about sometimes.

as long as I am less robotic
than dictated by whims
as long as fur is furry
and wings aren't clipped.

It was half the size of a blimp, it was

a sad trumpet hovering over the coastal plains
spilling snow that doesn't stick where the trees
have been cut down.
cotton sticks.
it gave us a low forlorn key
long weak notes followed by short
as if it were vomiting on flora.
vomiting on fauna.
pensive vibrations that shake
the dirt below our feet.
it makes me think.
i wonder why i shiver in the warmth
and seek a woman in the cold.
we aren't eagle scouts but we have
our bics to light and everything to smoke.

in other news:
the defending champion,
Brown Thrasher
is putting his title
(Georgia State Bird)
on the line
against The
Cornish Chicken.
Let the cock thrashing begin!