Moorin Poems

Rising nineteen different ways in nineteen different countries
With my feet towards the sun of Aurora borealis
With my heart aligned with my brain and
Lymph circulating throughout my chest

Today is going to be a good day in Africa
in China
in Paris
in the United States

I heard all about it on the tv news
How Elvis sang the blues
And we ripped up newspapers
Using them to start fires

The acrid smoke wafted down the
Street we rand down:
Teal Lane, Oviparous, Venereal disease
And bits and flecks of summer cooling

Blame it all on the
Mushroom cloud
Rising up
To heaven..,

Continued in Birdland


La la la – la la la
Doop boo bop doop dee     flah
So long now
In tire five

You raw lines you pink bones
Each a home
All alone
Tell a gnome

I’m in the zone like Nina Simone
Doop doop da: like the moon on her throne
In the lake
On fire

We just croak and let days go by
We don’t care about the robot
We just smoke and let days roll by
We don’t care about Facebook

Open your eyes on a dim hot soul
Lounging in fire in earth are my bones
Writing past the grave emptily
Showing 2 figures with Humpty Dumpty
La la la  la la la la MUISicNote

The Mycelium of Dawn

Arising from nothing
With a sour taste in my mouth
And pale squares of light on the wall
The clock in the kitchen ticking
Snoring from the couch
And a whisker in the cakey powder of pancake mix.

Snatches of dreams flit back like birds.

Time’s wan ghosts: numbers of the digital clock
The heater crinkling alive
Flood of lamplight
A yard glowing in the wooded dark.

Senses sharpened: the brain of night slowly flickering out,

Glass rose, glass vase.

Strange world of dreams, appear!

Brakelights streak through the dark.

Linear time: record viewing party: that is assuming: bursts of unfocused thought.

His burly arms are crossed in sleep
A morning walk to awaken the senses
Yogurt finished: candy-sweet, gunk.

A dream returns: a classroom dispute, watching as spikes of red and black water ooze out the base of a windmill:

“I object. I would sooner call this effluvia than runoff. The latter implies natural means working towards natural ends. But here we see the water is sliced, polluted, and discarded.”

Silent affirmation of point.

Morning glowing planet: Venus?
The glitter of frost on the grass
Light pouring out a house
Rumble of train
A spotlight on a tree

The cold air prancing
Two middens of dirt stacked in a backyard
She jogs the garbage pail to the road, jogs back through the cold swinging her hands Two birds wing through the gradually glowing sky
A bus glides to the end of the road, stopping, slowly turning right.