Northwest of 1721’s Kodiak

No Lack

On Raspberry Isle
did the bigfoot fight the bear.
With only one arm.

No Smack

The kodiak’s roar
was met with deadly silence.
A fight for hist’ry.

No Hack

Though Lakaw had his
leg broken he fought on still.
Arm locked bear away.

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Something Greater than me

Is it the bunny that I see?
Is it the stethoscope? Nope.
Is the lariat about my 10 gallon hat?
Is it the cable from Clark Gable?

No. It’s something greater than me.

Could it be Jack coming back?
Could it be my friend? That’s an end.
Could it be my wife? She’s my life.
Could it be the figure I can’t augur?

No. It’s something greater than me.

What about the schizoid in the void?
What about the summoning not coming?
What about the shih tzu sniffing at the poo?
What about the tapas at my Papa’s?

No. It’s something greater than me.

So I’d better pay attention.

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Source of the Cosmos

The wild ones from the Steppes
called lordly Hippemolgi
descended on and terrified those persians and greeks
long before romans roamed.
They were born riding
and natural bowmen making frightening warriors.
Impossible to conquer since how
can you subjugate mounted nomads with no cities?
They survived rough
tied to their horses so closely
that these were the source of their cosmos.
So intimate that they knew
how to play bone to stimulate the secret parts of mares
and cause the milk to flow and sustain them.
This was their beer and food.
Punched in hide bags as one entered a yurt
or agitated by riding
or stirred by blinded slaves captured
and that skimmed from the top
was the champagne of milk.
Now real koumiss is medicinal,
Leo and Anton thought so,
and so many seek descendants of aurochs,
more plentiful and easier to milk,
to fake it but that travesty is not as sweet.
For the people of the horse
strewn out on the land below the milk in the night sky
there is no replacing that mirror
of the cosmos they found below.
That made them strong.

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A Metabolic Magic

Metabolism. n. The chemic processes that occur in a biologic organism in order to maintain life.

First we begin isagogic
with time so geologic as to be part mythologic
but don’t get carried anyway by my illogic.
I want all ethnologic replaced by teleologic.
A cell’s engines are bounded by hydraulic
membranes lipophobic and lipophilic
(but not lpgrphic)
with trans and comm proteins to alert the allergic
but we also need an energy workaholic
with might a chondric
and memory aids polycyclic
to reproduce meiotic and mitotic
(often in public)
or it will be sick [sic]
or, worse, necrophilic.

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The Meeting To-Do

The rain embarrassed my way to the tickety-boo
but no one pointed, no one jeered, it was all how-do-you-do?
I slunk and droplets of water dehydrated off me jackaroo
and I tried to aplomb myself thereto do a switcheroo.
It wasn’t cold, I didn’t chill, to a colour true-blue,
though it could have taken place peekaboo.
I set my dessert out and knew I was going to outdo
the rest of the offerings even if no one could mangetout
but no, wrong! Those who tried were few
and their fingers turned brown. Would they sue?
But know hitherto, that Lao-tzu could only misconstrue.
I slunk to the back which I thought well-to-do
but tu-whit tu-whoo I was dragged to the front view
and said my ‘Hi’ then to screw my toodle-oo
in true askew but, so easily, my skew was aperçu.

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Robsart Leichhardt

They would call him Sart
but there was a man with heart.
He’d outsmart apart.

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The Tale of the Bunny on Paul Avenue

On a walk last night I saw something scurry out on Paul Avenue in the corner of my eye. My glasses weren’t on and I assumed it was a mouse as it was so small. It ran toward the curb on the opposite side.
I put on my glasses and I saw it was a small, baby bunny with grey and brown fur and tiny ears laid back on its wee head from fear. Why that would be became readily apparent as a raven swooped down but failed to grab it.
The cottontail ran at the curb with its head down and bounced back. I walked out on the road and the raven perched itself up on a pole, I presume, to wait me out. As I came closer the rabbit sprinted left so I stopped. It then ran back toward me and then right from where I stood. Finally it came back again and ran into the curb once again. That may have stunned it a bit as it didn’t scamper away when I set my open palm down beside it and shushed at it.
Then, to my surprise and that of a lady who had stopped to watch, the rabbit crept into my hand and actually cuddled into it! Did it know I was keeping the raven away? Whatever the cause this was the cutest entity I’ve held in my hand for quite a while: since when my children were young.
I stood up and it wormed its way, trying to hide, into my fleece jacket at the crook of my arm, first on the left and then across to the right. The bunny pushed its head in there so far that its rear legs were splayed out upside down against my arm.
A young girl from the side of the street that I had come from asked for the bunny but her father refused saying they already had enough with the cat. In fact, the girl discovered that said cat was stalking yet another baby bunny under a neighbour’s car. The man chased the feline back into his house. Then the lady and the man both confirmed that there were lots of bunnies in his backyard so I set the rabbit down near his gate to the back and it went straight for it.
And that’s how I left the bunnies on Paul Avenue.

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