Who bankrolls
the nasty TV ads
that verge on slander,
the propositions
to make law
no attorney comprehends,
then leave it up
to the common man
to cast his vote
for the profit in IT,
be IT self-righteous egos
or just plain cash?
Imagine the power-rush
spending someone else’s money
and then to get paid
with all the perks
for IT
for life.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022
Tagged common man, democracy, elections, mid-terms, parties, photography, poetry, politicians, politics, voting
The weather here is queen,
haggard goddess dodging phone calls,
prayers—she gathers storms
like cattle to market
leaving empty pastures bare to cook
for sometimes years—
sometimes centuries displacing
civilizations for archeological
supposition and conjecture.
We cannot know her mind—
she is old and forgetful
and often wanders in a haze.
But when we smell her
approaching on the wind
our dry skin tightens as
we become like reckless children
turned loose to prepare
the fires for her arrival,
be it wrath or cordial,
for she is queen
of eternity.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged Drought, Dry Creek, nature, personification, photography, poetry, rain, weather
The cows know the way
following the idling sounds
of the diesel hay truck
to the feed grounds just beyond
the glacial slab of granite
honeycombed with grinding holes
of another era
when 300 Natives
made a living in this canyon.
After the flood
they moved the road
away from the creek in ’69—
exposing human bones.
The cast iron well head
for the red brick slaughterhouse
stands like a gravestone
among dead oak limbs—for
a time between then and now.
A cow turns back to attend to her calf
swallowing dust, another murmurs
trust that there will be hay.
* * * *
0.28″
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged Calves, cows, Drought, Dry Creek, dust, feed truck, glacial slab, grinding holes, Natives, photography, poetry, rain, weather
The black hole in the barn
has grown since August
as we peel-off long green
(high-dollar hay) vacuumed-up
by cows nursing hungry calves.
Al the prognosticators
tease us with promises
of thunderstorms tonight
if only to settle the dust.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged alfalfa hay, Calves, cows, Drought, photography, poetry, weather, weathermen
Tenuous, dangerous navigating
redwood sagging on rotting joists
even the dogs avoided
and it took years to make repairs,
slices of time wedged between
perpetual routines
caring for the survivors of drought
when there was no grass or water.
It took the expertise of a patient friend
we have learned to love
and work with—Robbin and I
comprising only half-a-man.
for Jeff Spoelstra
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged accomplishment, Drought, friends, photography, poetry, repairs, teamwork
They’ve taken Saturday’s rain away
with future promises
like plastic magic debt
no one intends to pay.
We’ve been here before,
crooning to godesses
not to forget us
like the hopeless homeless.
We are this ground
rooted into the future
like the plodding lives of cattle,
trusting, trusting, trusting….
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle, Cosmos, Drought, godesses, Monarch Butterfly, photography, poetry, rain, trusting, weather
1.
Gray dust clouds rising
behind cows down powdered trails
off these bare mountains.
2.
The diesel feed truck
awakes a bawling chorus
to claim the canyon.
3.
All imperative
and hungry, it twists our guts—
La Niña pending.
Posted in Haiku 2022, Photographs, Poems 2022, Ranch Journal
Tagged cattle, Drought, haiku, La Nina, photography, poetry, water, weather
Change is made of choices
& choices are made of character.
– Amanda Gorman (“We Write”)
Nothing stays the same,
even the Earth wobbles on its axis.
We are not the same people—
we were raised with, and finally by.
Reason and truth have been inflated so
they have no value now, like fiat currency.
Yesterday, a man’s word defined him.
Today he speaks a foreign tongue.
But that’s all we have, a lifetime of words
to ease the speed and pain of change.
Posted in Photographs, Poems 2022
Tagged Amanda Gorman, change, character, photography, poetry, reason, truth, words
Up here, the deer unafraid.
We freeze together
to see who melts away first.
Posted in Haiku 2022, Photographs, Poems 2022
Tagged deer, haiku, photography, poetry, privacy
Poetry is its own prayer,
The closest words come to will.
– Amanda Gorman (“CORDAGE, or ATONEMENT”)
To untangle a knot of fishing line
you must begin with the hook—
work reason gently backwards.
Don’t pull tight but take a breath,
give time away and listen
to the words that swim by.
Free the mind to find itself
not coifed in sheep’s clothing
but wild as a wolf in the woods.
Watch the water riffle and eddy.
See rocks and cobbles talking
from an ever-changing streambed.
This is fishing.
This is poetry.
This is solace.
drycrikjournal 