The Secretknowing there is onemakes everything awkward

we're all supposed to know itbut no one's allowed to say

what it is, still there'sall this nodding

High in the Foothills a man pulls a fish

from a stream

My Poor Fish Can't go to Coon Rapids.I can go to Coon Rapidswhenever I want –weekends or after work.

Good! fish in the fishtank bread in the bag me waking up on the studio couch the system is working

Parking LotThe attendant is angry.His edger is missing, And in a crack in the blacktop Near the corner of Seventh and Wabasha, Five weeds are sticking their heads up, Looking for trouble.

We Asked for a Sign Three days he waited to fart.Then it came, endlessly bubbling,like a machine gun in honey.His widow smiled thinly.

FeverInfant daughter in my arms plucks absently at my nipple. A smile forms.

She gets the joke, how useless I am, and it seems to do her good.

The Art of Negotiation We start lifeas egomaniacs,fists full of demands

after that it's oneconcessionafter another.

The Tidecomplains

ish ish

ish

Elevator walking through

the financial district I smell hay

Christmas The road is a memorylost in the blizzardthe snow is fallingsideways

The cattle's eyes aretoo frozen to blinkThey won't be there in the morning

Why Did the Buddha Sit Under the Tree?

To get to the other side.

EntrepreneurThis spider studied real estate.He built a web at the corner stationover the sign flashing Quaker State – location, location, location.

At the Circus ambulance lights at the auditorium gate and a lump on a stretcher and on top of that the embroidered red fez

At the LakeThe day has had its way with us, and now in the glimmer the swans steer clear of the clank of canoes, couples lean into one another at the hip, and a man on a bicycle speeds by sobbing, in red shoes.

EmbarrassForty minutes I stand in the reception line. Finally I reach the newly widowed man, standing by Olive's open coffin, and I will remember these words forever. 'Hey Vern, great to see you.'

Instructions for Falling We have to let go in order to fall And the steady tumble that carries us down Surrender all order, unclench every hand Until we are sleeping, and begin again

Death as Snack Cake the grave's a fine and spongey place a twinkie of an eye and we who dreamed so many things are the filling surprise

Intuitions Why do we hold themIn such high regardWhen they are what got usThe way that we are?

Frankenstein in the Cemetery *Here is where

I ought to be.And here.

And here.And here.

And here.And here.

Spirit if you have a better idea I'd liketo hear it

DisavowalBe wary of poems that mount the pedestalBrandishing bright words, or better stillstand guard and prick up your ears.A deeper peace will take a thousand years.

The StinkDoes not understandit is the problem

Brothers, sisterswhere are you going?