The Berries I Never Picked
Believe not words they say, lowly gods' Pens power strikes lightning quick cross page But you stand callused hands, you soften sod Live bushes rise amongst sweet summer's sage Labor long, sweat'n'wet words perfectly Your dart like tongue such bends, bushes break Blood red like Picasso's woman worldly Fall flower, hair jet black, retards our slake Amused muse music planted, dreams in-jest Dynamic faith it takes, loving lines Refuting fiend. I dreamt of you; dark quest We trod until sweet death, never in time To find that child from past had writ he knew Secrets of berries found in mountain snow.

     Guard The Heart

for Simon Vinegoog
	I pour the wine

it makes no sense to stop --


	everybody talks about dying

	instead of dandelions

	blooming between sidewalks

& awkward green grass.


Will em DeKooning

the shovel



the corner,

grave day. I

plucked  dan


an' fitted



the yellow


We laughed 

about the

waste of casket.        Are we not as waste-

ful?       The racoon lay sound, rumpled by

dog's teeth,      untouched by our pity.  An'

you my love wanted a wooden cross.   I

want not to be a woman titted and spiked

a lover's


You found

    death on

your shovel

spun it in-

to the fresh

black hole.

With a splash

the flowers

fell and


by scoop


   dirt fell.

It is now that I go to sleep.

The bunny is in his coop with a carrot.

I feel sorry that he is caged but at least

he has a bunny-ramp and gets fed fresh fruit

and bread.  My son is learning about the holocaust

He wants my opinion.  I don't know enough.

I am Euro-American, specifically German.

We go to the library for more information.

We take out books and read them to each other.

I have never been fond of the human race or our

claims of humanness to others, animals or how we treat

the environment.  As it turns out our beastliness

has been unleashed over and over again through history.

It is my son that asks why?  A fear of another's prawns

smelted by fear based on greed and hatred.  Will it happen

again, my son asks.  I say if you sense it is happening

fight like hell, believe your heart and if you die know

that I am there on the other side holding your hand

both of us framed in morning light soft, to begin again.