In December we consider light

it’s pallor, loss, and its return.

Today there was no morning sun;

the night’s frost rose into a cloud

and hangs suspended.  Dull brick

bungalows convert to misted

silver photographs, foundations

black with lace drapes of juniper.

One trapped red maple leaf,

near our point of view,

defies the ban on color.

Once upon a tumbleweed,
lottery
sunburn
(time)
in the land of Cautiousness,
in a/an
bushy, humanoid, complaisant, proverbial
(enchanted)
mandrake
touchstone
yard sale
(castle): Vantassel
lived
(along with numerous servitors, retainers, aides, helpers, hangers-on, and minor functionaries)
a/an average, unmistakable, stylish,
thunderhead,
earthquake,
groundhog,
mime
(princess)
Thoughtful.
Her father was the
tour de force
pollywog
caribou
(king): Bing.
Her mother,
sounding board
scampi
gift
quarry
(queen): Marleen.

And rounding out the cast,
Prince Galileo,
sweat suit
excuse
prelude
appetite
(brother).
One day, the Queen wanted
a silver bell, a goldfish and a cabin by the sea
a tulip, three gemstones, and a wild mango tree
a pear, a polished stone, and a gray tabby cat
a cardboard box, a mirror, and a feather for her hat

Thoughtful (the princess) figured that,
with a little work, some or most or all of that
could be managed, at the least they could look around.
you never know. things turn up
let’s, she decided, have a scavenger quest.
So,
out from the enchanted castle
Thoughtful, Galileo, their dog,
(Bottle)
and their usual guardsman, Grapes, rode.
they rode down the driveway,
and over the highway,
across the pasture and into the woods.
They rode and they looked
they looked and they rode
they walked and they wandered
peering under rocks, peeking behind trees,
they followed paths
they followed bees
a grand and rambling morning
a picnic with tea and apples
chicken, cheese and cake
ended in contented dozing
until sunset
and then…

This city’s not always lovable
it has its days of hatefulness
and is often out of sorts
It’s grown self-satisfied, and
in fact, over-grown its bounds
gotten sloppy and careless.
Still, we’ve been together
over sixty years now, and
I guess that’s attachment.

Fig spends every spring recouping
winter’s losses. Stored reserves
all go to starting over, coming back.
There’s no early flush of fruit
those spring buds all are twigs
rebuilding last year’s bush
It seems to think there’ll be
enough time once the wood
has hardened off, but winter
always finds the figs still green

I should have planted something tougher,
some more selected version than this
Brown Turkey that I found at Home Depot
It must be some scion out of Georgia
or the Texas hill country, Tennessee
ice breaks it to the root every year

I wrote poetry

at fourteen, fifteen it was all the aching wonder of it all and disillusioned cynicism mankind is a flop
but I love sunset thank you god and I did thank god good christian girl no opportunity to be less
or more loneliness, of course, we’re all alone at sixteen, seventeen at twenty, twenty-one still fine
with god if not so much his last creation alcohol and sex and cigarettes twenty-six and seven love sex
betrayal rock and roll failed suicide or two and no more poetry no record of the years good/bad/other
things that happen over time and sixty, sixty-one with aching joints the heart is working wonder if we’re
all alone together mankind’s still a flop it’s more or less okay with god and I remembered I wrote poetry

Campbell Sorrey was a liar.
A drunk and a liar,
and a teller of tall tales.
But he could build a sweet guitar,
and he turned the heads of women
young enough to love his son.

He talked peach-scented moonshine to damp an August thirst,
Jack Kerouac on a Saint Pete rooftop naming stars,
illuminati, templar knights, freemasons;
a cajun girl with hair as black as silk
and her fiddling blue-eyed lover
who liked to pare his finger nails
with an eight inch hunting knife.

The truth might be there somewhere
and if it was
nobody cared.
Or maybe one,
who listened with the rest of us
then went away alone.
A man to break your heart,
who stumbled where his father danced.

_________________________

an to maybe of might to with sweet
with drunk talked was the guitar
and a thirst
Jack rest somewhere
and hunting a one,
who girl August hair templar man naming teller finger liked eight your could an lover
who where fiddling his love be heart,
who nails went knife.
The his tall a break Kerouac liar,
and alone.
A heads if to to danced. there truth he silk
and listened son.He with cared.
Or rooftop cajun as the of blue-eyed pare knights, father he her women
young Saint black inch moonshine tales.
But liar.
A of a stumbled enough was
nobody a stars
illuminati, us
then peach-scented and his freemasons;
a build away turned it on as damp Pete

____________________

where black moonshine thirst
Jack father women
young us
then to talked guitar
and pare there away stars
illuminati, Saint be finger a was teller turned blue-eyed might love a somewhere
and with naming an his of liar,
and listened damp peach-scented eight her one,
who stumbled the his to build fiddling if son.

He liked rooftop lover
who enough a and freemasons;
a
with was
nobody hunting on your nails the of his heads templar hair Kerouac to knights, inch alone.
A could to an rest drunk break August as a a heart,
who tales.
But with silk
and maybe it as danced. liar.
A cared.
Or knife.

The Pete of truth he tall man went girl sweet he cajun

_______________________

templar to inch hunting blue-eyed to and us
then peach-scented August liked an build women
young it tall his father liar.
A man be cared.
Or pare talked a listened Kerouac sweet finger cajun black enough a an stars
illuminati, a a eight teller of thirst
Jack heart,
who heads there break Pete truth if he nails love maybe naming of was
nobody
with was moonshine on knife.

The her Saint away silk
and he drunk liar,
and fiddling your his as the with to danced. lover
who freemasons;
a stumbled one,
who girl could rest damp rooftop turned tales.
But went his the hair to a with alone.
A somewhere
and knights, of as guitar
and where might son.He

BREAKFAST WITH CORPSES

me
leaning
over the sink
spooning microwaved remnants
soup from the bakery three blocks away
watching the trees move green in mid October,
if tinted in spots by tan silk shrouded bodies tied
into the window screen the spider’s lardered remnants
of summer’s tender winged swarm if they’re termites  some day
a sigh I never realized I even uttered will tear out the last
celulose column supporting my walls and we will
spill like sand into the basement
my microwave, window
soup carton,
spoon
me

I can’t get this quite right.

memory steps lightly
still feather gray on the leaf
is not the mockingbird

////

memory stumbles
one dew-touched gray feather
no mockingbird song

mediated destruction can be
intimately
coupled
1, 2 et al.
3 challenged Gal4
not dynamically, but rather
‘in’
competition.
Here evidence the unsuitable,
bound, Gal4 susceptible in vivo.
key evidence that
et al.3 used Gal4
within the context of
promoter complexes.

http://www.nature.com/nature/journal/v461/n7265/full/nature08406.html

Growing evidence supports the notion that proteasome-mediated destruction of transcriptional activators can be intimately coupled to their function1, 2. Recently, Nalley et al.3 challenged this view by reporting that the prototypical yeast activator Gal4 does not dynamically associate with chromatin, but rather ‘locks in’ to stable promoter complexes that are resistant to competition. Here we present evidence that the assay used to reach this conclusion is unsuitable, and that promoter-bound, active Gal4 is indeed susceptible to competition in vivo. Our data challenge the key evidence that Nalley et al.3 used to reach their conclusion, and indicate that Gal4 functions in vivo within the context of dynamic promoter complexes.