FBI like SCI/FI
X: Scully and Mulder

Sceptic and Mystic
Science informed Intuition

Solves the mysteries
Of scurrilous skulduggeries

Heinous histories
Resolved collaboratively

I think about my Dog
All the time
The omnipotent one;
Maker of Chihuahuas and Bernards;
Distiller of EVERY smell we LOVE to smell
HE who NEVER NEEDS to eat grass.

Oh, Boy, Good Boy,
Why, oh why, don’t we have thumbs?
We can’t open the ***…frigging doors
To answer the NEED of nature!
We can’t even open any food container
Or answer the phone when they are away.

Don’t get me wrong—
I like being on all fours, Dog, stability!
I like my nose knowing and showing!
I LOVE doing it *******:
On a manmonk leg, on the couch, with a bi—
(Sorry, the manmonks think I shouldn’t say that word)

Speaking of manmonks,
Could you help them understand us better?
Don’t they know they STINK?
They take me out to play, yeah!
Then, I bring the stick back not once, but twice, thrice…
That’s just not nice.

And why can’t I EAT all day?

That thing around my neck itches.
And the metal thingies are crazy jangly; but
Thank you, Dog for allowing me to scratch scratch scratch scratch scratch so well.
And lick where I like to lick.
And lick where I like to lick.
And lick where I like to lick.

Oh Dog, dear Dog,
Please hear my lamentations.
Grant me my thumbs!
Let me open the door!
Remove the collar!
And finally use the holy

Can Opener!

Life is full of tedium
And disappointment
And sometimes failure

And rejection
And depression
And retrograde intercessions

A constant brings me joy
A time/space place of hope:
Strange new worlds; new episodes

Yellow buddy Gunther meets
Ginger Fred the red

Nose touch and sniff
Yep. You. ‘K.

(He eschews those black cats—
Snubs uncomfortable loves)

But boys will be boys
Meeting nose to nose.

We just feed them.

I’m going to have some fun
With my rat-a-tat word gun
Words profane and words as pun

“A well regulated militia....”
Means hellya! we can police ya
And send you another noticia:

We CAN regulate your sorry ***
(Sorry, you think that crass?)
And negate forever your NRA impasse

Hey, you, you NRA ringers
I care **** about prying “cold dead fingers”
60 dead, 500 ******—that's what lingers

Legislators, grow a pair
Make good laws: strong and fair
End this mass-death love affair

Near Halloween
He turned thirteen

Buddy boy born,
It’s a good boy yarn:

Came to us as an adolescent
Eager, fun, ever present

Present for the scent
Of every teaching treat

Sit, stay, come, heel…
(The last one meant walk, walk WALK!

Down to the park!
Smelling all my neighbors!)

But Halloween was hard
Doorbells, voices, lights,

Mobs of noisy people
Invading his protected spaces

Lunging! Barking!
Instinct loosed!

He learned, through the kids,
The “trick or treat”

Then he learned to love it all!
Licking costumed faces

Sniffing ***** bags
For obedience treats

It used to be hard with every doorbell dash
To control big golden yellow buddy boy

As we, and he, got older
(he quicker, the 7 to 1 brief flicker)

We relaxed our grip on him
As he mingled with wizards and goblins

When the next mob of kids arrive
Your SpongeBobs, your Vader’s, your Ghostie-ghouly space invaders

No tricks, a real treat: a new generation meets
Mellow yellow buddy boy saying, “Hi"

Prepare the feast
Bread stuff has to bubble
Or you’ve got trouble

Pumpkin gave its life
Add eggs and allspice
And enough butter for crust

Free range young turkey
Neck and giblets included
Need ‘em for groovy gravy

Boil stock down
Rosemary and sage
Just in thyme

Cooking together
Three days on
Now that‘s thanks giving

There is a middle place
Between OK and sad
Between fact and fiction

There is a middle place
Between you and me
And us and them

There is a middle place
Between what we know
And what we want

There is a middle place
Between "FAKE NEWS!”
And actual truth

Twixt there and then
Visualize better zen
Grow from the middle

Roses are Rosaceae near 700 angstroms
Violets are Violaceae around 480 angstroms
Sugar is C12H22O11
(It’s sweet)
And so are you

Lonely boat
at low tide
bereft

Lost ribs rise
above gray mud
stark

Muck stuck with
elemental exposure
bleached

Proud vessel now
mussel struck
stuck

Taking in the beauty of this spring
Grass growing fast
Birds chirping cheerily
Mowers lowing in the distance

Blossoms beautiful surround me
Future apples plums peaches cherries
With almost every tree leafing
Rain/sun/temp ratio tipping

Old trope: poems by the millions
But this spring is special
This spring is now
Elevating specialness

Wherefore the Monarch
In orange and black
Will you nevermore
Gently flutter by?

I knew a rhino
Dressed in black
Not coming back
No horn intact

Horror scene
This Holocene
Us? The way of the dodo?
I don’t know

Old dog,
wait for us—
Surely, you can do that?
Don't go while we are away

Stay!

The kitties need you.
The homestead needs you.
We need you.
We love you, buddy boy.

Old dogs teach us so much:
Loyalty, love, friendship.

Impermanence.

Buddy boy, please
Be here when we come home…

Okay?

It's nothing really,
No, really it's nothing.
Don't worry about it —
Didn't happen.

It's not a problem;
(Or, as I see it, pablum.
Yet, I seethe at your slight
You myopic fat pigeon-******!)

(Did I say that out loud or just think it?!)
No, no; it's fine.
Tuesday? Sure.
Yeah, me too!

Evidence is everything.

You can think something else is so;
You can hope something else is so;
You can believe something
Someone else has said is true.

There is no fake news
There are only fake facts.
Your take on the facts
Introduces subjectivity:

"Danger, Will Robinson, danger!"

Subjectivity rocks the boat
Distorts the daily;
Removes truths and
Introduces indecision.

Subjectivity *****
Fax me the facts.
Just the facts, ma'am,
Just the facts.

My bones ache
My head seeks

The body slumps as
Spirit breathes and

Unhindered soars
And scores

Sensing them
From only here

Honest empathy;
But knowing, no.

Raise the sails
Cross the gulf

Manage your own estate
No one else really cares

We work sometimes together
Or better yet: laugh together

We even feign interest
We might even “like!"

Then home to solo corners
Our own personal concerns

The importance of self-love:
Definitely not underrated

There is no comfort zone
As a ****** alone
Traipsing and tripping
Calles and zocalos

Estranged stranger
Taller, whiter, foreign
Trying to fit not blend in
Stuttering sputtering sentences

Finding right words
Taxing not relaxing
But rewards every day as
Friends show us the way

Time travel
Wears a body down
All that back and forth
Up and down some Jefferies tubes
Forgetting what’s been remembered

No cousin conundrums…
Thank goddess!
But I’ve seen me—
Gleefully pulling kitties tails
Splashing in a kiddie pool

The past is easy travel
The future most hard
The worst is what we don’t know
But we let it happen:
Super moons, king tides

shadows stretch long
across the lawn
autumn sun swings low
singing winter’s song

The drone’s angle
Cauliflower green

Obligatory overhead
Forest scene seen

Filming automated
Droids watching as

Camera slides, smoothly
Overhead drama meme

Copter tracking
Story told between

time slows,
shows, goes

feel it come—
then its gone

anticipate to
participate…

(endeavor to
remember)

Lil' baby peeks
From her towel cowl
Placed to placate
Her hissy scowl.

Spastic cat relaxes,
Spies with her little eyes
Safe within her clothy cave
Believes she's invisibile.

Later, much later,
Lucky emerges, yoga stretches,
Black cat arches back,
Shudders; tail's end softly twitching.

Ready again for tactile affection,
We stroke her silky fur
Feel her subtle purr;
Lil' baby again.

BAM!
The cudgel descends

RIP!
The bandage off

****!
Old wounds can fester

POW!
Kicked while down

WOW!
Past is present again

GET UP
Brush it off
Mend your wall
Stand tall and
Walk away

Tommy Tumescent
Made a claim, man
By the left hand
That’s right’s been
Unrighteous with you
Making advances
Asking for finger dances for
Tactical enhancements to
Grow slow, Joe;
Remove the hoodie
Show the woodie
Stick your neck out
Turkey ****
Someone loves you
Enjoy

I cleaned up my **** today
Then, afterwords,
A lot of mouse turds

Decades-old dirt
Archived, postponed
Obvious duff discarded

Genetic leavings
Fingernail clippings
The flakes of folks we were

Cobwebs cleared
Mouse traps sprung
The new has begun

Once, a
Pangolin
Met a
Penguin
North or
South of
The Equator
You’re bird?
You’re mammal?
You’re funny!
You make me smile!
One waddled away
One rolled away
North or
South of
The Equator

THE END

Smoke is clearing
We can see clearly now
Rain is stopping with
Flood waters receding

Appreciate this moment of clarity
Watch the fog resolve
After days of dark, the sun
Revealing harsh truths

In stark contrast
To hidden shadows
What follows is
A path forward

The line between here and there
Grows thin once a year and death
Smells of copal and marigolds
Those who remember sit twixt
This world and the next to commune
With madres y padres y abuelos y tias
Bathed in candle light; this afterlife
Remembering is festive, not somber
As October moves into November
With those living and past together

FAKE NEWS is not new;
Fantabulism populism:

SHRIMP, BOY!
Mind the clause!

BEARDED PERSON!
Absolutely Ordinary!

ZIPPY THE PINHEAD:
Are we having fun yet?!

There’s a low below WWD
A kind of neutrality
How low can you go?
Lower than flow

Quiet

Breathless

Present

Still

But…
We go as we go

It was a fun day
On the Bay of Fundy
When Chris, Jane, Mateo and Juan
Happened to look leftward

New Brunswick looked old as
The ocean shimmered singularly
Porpoises poised ominously and
The captain seemed bereft

"4° starboard, Coxswain!” he bellowed
Before the worst occurred
Juan saw it just before Jane
As the ship ****** accordingly

Beside, the thing from nowhere
The beast that could not be
Krakened enormously
Splitting sea and sky

Mateo was the first to plead,
“Why, oh why, here and just now?”
He beseeched sea, beast, and sky
“Why not?” Crackled the Kracken

The sum of fun on bay of Fundy
Ended that day in mid July
The  flying fish remember
All those who did not die

Doesn’t come easy
I have jars on the shelf
Filled with
Jarring metaphors
Sparring rhymes;
Poems aborted

Dead ends.
Some just clumsy fumblings
Some un-clementine Frankensteins
Some too painful to finish
Some too personal to post

But for me, a life-line.

What way
We can’t say

Imagery
Left to be

Poetry not
On the clock

Turn a phrase
To mayonnaise.

Listening through the chatter
What‘s mattered now shattered
Cluttered schemes now
Shuttered dreams
Minority priorities
Reassigned—
Misaligned

Bomb!
(nuclear bomb!!)
Pshew! Pshew!
You're dead!

Not funny.
Seriously;
Not funny.

A musical once asked,
"How do you solve a problem like Maria?"
Or the father of Ivanka.

Give him a pony.
Or a destroyer
Festooned with
"Mission accomplished."




Me have cookies now?

I want something
I feel it deep in my bones
I feel it sometimes
I think it sometimes
A hunger, a longing

Akin to anxious
An unknown known
A dispersed urge
It’s important
In concealment

Just past dusk
A whisper before dawn
It’s under my skin
Something I should do
Begin what when?

Off course
By thirteen degrees west
Level the mainsail

Apology correction
Eight degrees right
Agree to digress

**** shouting
In a **** storm where
Nothing is heard

Wave spray intense
It’s nonsense
Useless direction

Creepy dolly thingies like
Chunky Chucky upchucks

Melody box ballerinas
Mesmerizing, hypnotizing

Rat-a-tat-tats splatter spats
To the music of sax and violins

Little ******’s pursing lips
Seducing the sinner in me

Or ending it all at the end of
The barrel of a long, ferric gun

My story is unexceptional
But for a few exceptions

A story uneventful
Except when remarkable

There are characters dull
And characters full

It’s a whirlygig existence
More than a water slide ride

Take note as it happens
No one else keeps score

Guess who’s 42?
…me…

Who here is a clumsy 13?
(me…)

Roaring 20s?
CAPITALIZE MEEEE!!!

44. I’d rather have what came before.

Look you in the eye at 55
And lovingly speak truth

Will you still need/feed me
When I’m

Darling,

The sun is out
My door is closed

Clouds come from within
Not without you

I assert my right to live
Here, not aggrieved

This land is your land
This land is my land.

"I am old,”
Said father time
Absconding an
Older nursery rhyme

Baby 2019
Fresh and clean
Chortled, coughed
And ripping his/her bib off

Opined: “Settle down; breathe;
This can change with ease;
You are not the only show in town.
There are other clowns around”

Time slowed
Sat down
2019 rose
And now grows…

Lost in space
Is a crucible
Inconsequential sloughed
Tested mettle

Lost in place
Reproducible
Insatiable urges scoffed
Regrettable

Hiding place
Reprehensible
Excuses always one-offed
Still, fixable

Saving face
Commendable
Excruciatingly tough
Be flexible

Number two gets knocked around
Snockered and knockered by
Plans backfired.

But Orville knows deep in his heart
(that is red red red as his nose)
That number two is still good, too.

One, golden, pure as driven snow cones
Head high held in the ozones
Knows not what just misfired.

Number three, trickster, conspired:
Pitting one against two.
What transpires inspired is clown!

I’ve packed it up before
Appointments not earned
Arrangements undeserved

I went off map for months
Leaving one closet for another
Life defined, boxed, shelved

Tossing the flotsam
Flowing the jetsam
Purging the past

Scripts, notes, lesson plans
Decades of detritus
The past as trash

One story ends;
We hope the sequel
Is better yet

Grief is cousin
To depression
But darker
More leaden

Grief is heavy
Under water
Time slowed to
Sluggishness

Grief is a degree
Of despair
That goes deep:
The cost of loss

I’ve been to where
Beyond somewhat

Floating through it all
Soaring everywhere

Beings familiar seen
The inscrutable not

Take the nectar
As I flutter by