She had been from Bisbee to Tombstone
on to Sierra Vista down to Douglas,
back multiple times and around and
around all within the first hundred
pages or so. Later, apprehending two
murderers, she blew out tires with
the pistol she had tucked in the small
of her back but not before getting the
duct tape off her wrists and ankles.
Then she had to save a guy whose cover
was blown and dirty cops were coming
to get him at a funeral no less. She got
engaged; her daughter liked that; her
fiancé almost called the whole thing off
for understandable reasons. Twenty-five
pages to go and the reader wonders if
she is going to visit Patagonia, a nice
little artsy town where Jim Harrison
winters and, as the reader has been told,
can be seen on occasion in a dive bar.

okay, the 9/11 memorial
is an emotional thing,
but in response to the
attack, we ignored
jesus, who just keeps
knocking at the door,
asking, “hello, anyone
home?” and, at the very
least, the babylonian
admonition of an eye for
an eye and tried to slake
our blood thirst on about
a million middle-eastern-
ers and, apparently, that
still isn’t enough be-
cause we are scared out
of our wits and are more
than happy to obliterate
most of the rest of the
world if it means that
we can continue to
take our kids to soccer
practice in psuedo-peace.

We all do things that
fly up and hit us in the
face and slap us around
and of which we are
profound-
ly ashamed
like the wave that is
too large for words but
knocks us back and
the incline of the
desert mountain
that knocks us
back
so that
we have to confront
all those things
in order to get on
with it, to get on
with it, to get on
with it, to get on
with it….

When his wife came home he asked her how it went.
As he listened, the man thought of these:

1. Avoid a fool in his folly.

2. The Blind Leading the Blind.

3. The Herd.

One member of the herd
was spooked. He bolted
and spooked the rest of the
herd. The herd started run-
ning, all in one direction.
They knew not where they
went, but they were intent
on going. Where were the
cowboys to corral the scared,
witless beasts? The herd was
hell bent on the stampeed and
the cliff was just ahead….

4. The Attack.

“A time is coming when people will go mad,
and when they see someone who is not mad,
they will attack him saying, ‘You are mad,
you are not like us.'”
— Abba Anthony

You’ve heard ashes to ashes
and dust to dust,
but we crawled out of the water
and to return we must.

So, as the droughts continue
and the land cracks and dries,
stay close to the water
if you value your lives.

We love the Southwest
with deserts and mountains galore
but fresh water is best
and as I’ve said before

you’ve heard ashes to ashes
and dust to dust,
but we crawled out of the water
and to return we must.

“So, you aren’t
going to the meeting?”
“No, I’m going to stay
here and finish
my mystery.
It’s easier dealing
with evil on a page
than in person with
those with whom
I have history.
I will avoid fools
in their folly
and focus my attention
on each and every page
and have the satisfaction
of knowing my
blood pressure is fine
and I have avoided
internal rage
and the chance I would
make the mistake of
opening my mouth
and letting all hell
rush out.
So, my dear, go your
way and have a good time.
When you get back
I’ll be right here
with a chilled bottle of wine.”

As he finished his trail jog,
a woman with a large camera
asked him if there were any
wild flowers along the way.

“No, too early.” She put her
large camera in the car be-
cause it was starting to
drizzle. They chatted awhile,

made connections as people
tend to do. When the rain
came down a little harder,
they said goodbye. He wonder-

ed when the lovely, fragile,
Lady Slippers, once again,
would grace the trails. The
thought made him smile.

The whiny, shrill voice could be heard
jumping right out from the words of

the e-mail addressed to one but copied
to the cosmos, over and over and over.

Little kids running for home and safety
but turning, holding hands up to ears

thumbs in and fingers wagging, “Na,
na, na, na, na.” The voice won’t stop.

Delete, trash, empty trash. We all have
to take out the trash. It’s Thursday; time

to take out the trash. Close the lid; put
a brick on it. Pray the collector comes.

People glom on with a smile,
while posturing never wanting
anything to do with you.

People stick to your skin
like jelly fish stinging
your body and soul.

People push and shove
their will down your
throat. Here, eat this.

People assume never
stopping to think of
ass, u, me.

People smile and smirk
knowing they will get
what they want.

People then may leave
you alone to live your
own blessed or cursed

life once they have suck-
ed blood and marrow
and an eyeball or two

for good measure.

who knew that the
apple was the devil?
who knew? who knew?
who knew that the
dick tracy watch
was coming true?
who knew? who knew?
who knew that we
would sell our souls
to technology?
einstein knew.
that’s who,
and all i want to do
is time my jogs
on my twelve dollar
watch and that’s
true.