Reading Between the Lines

climate change, peak oil, water shortages

the cutest little babies you ever saw

HIV, H1N1, wars and famine, deforestation

reunions, Yoga, Tai Chi, Facebook and search engines

confined animal feeding operations

Thanksgiving

Obesity, diabetes, heart disease

Kellogg's, General Mills, Kraft Foods

Dashing through the snow

small children without parents

Eggnog

Depression

On a good day you get egg role

I'm sorry mam, your son was killed by a car bomb

good things come in small packages

that's another can of worms

it is hard to imagine anything so beautiful

gone to hell in a handbasket

Whatever can be imagined can be invented

we face mass destruction and turmoil

the most uplifting version of Ave Maria

the most hideous crime ever committed

the generosity of the human spirit

greed, depravity and hatred

Our

choices

are

a

form

of

mathematics

to

be

determined

by

an

invisible

calculator

Oh Glory Be

You. Me. Art.

If you live and are living--you make art.

Your smile is art. Your hair, in whatever state, is art.

Your bald head is art (and shiny).

Your walk is art. Your love is such precious art.

Your touch is art and so pleasing.

Your view is artistic. All that you see is art (and glorious).

All that you impact is new art.

All that you hold in your heart is too. Art.

You are such a great artist. There is no one who does art like you.

Tomorrow we can find other art to enjoy.

Let's make art today.

Consciousness Recognizes Itself

We sat relaxed as a gathering, engaged in light exchange,

remembering the significance of the night before…

when the white flittering flock of winged warriors slashed the morning rain

with the muffled explosion of their gliding gallop.

Bursting in like trumpets and tambourines born from nowhere,

rustling the tree top canopy with their synchronized swirling swooping dance,

then perching as a squadron, like a hundred shimmering spots of vibrating energy--

speckled reflections of diffused sunlight.

We whooped and whistled from inside the maloca and smiled.

Our selves were absorbed in to the Oneness of the forest universe.

All was well at Soga de Alma.

Lens Cover

A thin sheet forms the skin that holds back tears.

No one knows what the chemical is which bubbles up as majesty.

Colors with power enough to take your breath away,

changing on a canvas which no camera has lens enough to understand,

on a certain dusk, at a certain place, in a thousand lands.

And you lose yourself in the foreground,

wondering which part is observer and which part is observed.

This moment is all there is.

Farmers in Lab Coats

Chorus:
Do you remember the spread on the table,
by the bounty of our cousins own chores?
When commun’ty meant swings sets and picnics
Only got to by walking out doors.

Verses:
They name fake butter for valleys and corn cribs
While our health is secure we are told
Farmer John now wears a lab coat.
What you eat is what he has sold.

A coal fired farm fact’ry is spewing
In the distance from dawns early light.
Our diets are hardly sun ripened
As the boxes depict in disguise.


An ancient recruit has changed nature’s system
And we’ve developed a taste for synthetics
So with loss of soil and income
Our farmers are replaced by our medics

Bronto and Rex have been long buried
But my Uncle stirred them up from the grave
And their ghosts are like bubbling ink stains
So blighted fields our lives can not save

Helix lived on a spiraling stair case
Spawned on the farm in old family ways
Along came a molecular whiz kid
And zapped poor helix to a weird purple haze

Now the science is known as ag-culture
Though more closely related to Frank Stein
Our four wheeled shopping carts runneth over
With toxins though our kids do not mind

Who runs the show here, we might be askin
Why don’t we get out and vote with our forks
And tell Betty Crocker, Unc’ Ben and Aunt Mima
That their stuff we aint buyin no more

The Astronaut Shuttle (Sang to All Night Long)

Sun is down The sky is clear
Throw back your head and have no fear
As space freaks, we're safe up here
Do the Astronaut Shuttle
Space walk, space walk
Take off your helmet, unzip your pants
Get the feel of moonwalk trance
Come over here and Shuttle
Astronaut, astro do, it’s better
Take off your suit, don’t talk
Come over here and Shuttle
Astronaut too hot the weather
Take off your suit, Moonwalk
Come over here and Shuttle
In the sky, tonight
In the sky, tonight
In the sky, tonight
The colony is groovin town
The Moonwalk now is Shuttle Down
The mission is good, don’t frown
Do the Astronaut Shuttle
Space Walk, Moonwalk
Take another shot
Tang and Tanqueray
Space docking wallbanger way
Come over here and shuttle
Astronaut, astro do, it’s better
Take off your suit, don't talk
In the sky--tonight!
In the sky--tonight!
In the sky-- tonight!
In the sky--tonight!
Can I come inside your space suit
I’ll show you mine
Oh yours is tight
And mine is fine
We all are floating
Dig the atmosphere
How you like the space?
I love your spheres
Space Junk!
Come on it’s time to shuttle
In the sky--tonight
In the sky--tonight
In the sky--tonight
In the sky--tonight
I like your space strut
Your crazy space hut!
In the sky
Down on Earth in mission control
To be up here, they’d give their soul
In the sky
Down on Earth in mission control
To be up here, they’d give their soul
In the sky
Float by, float by

Blessed Event

The space shuttle Endeavor has mated with the space station
and shot squiggly astronauts into the mother ship.
Now this tiny town of astronauts is pregnant again,
two hundred and twenty miles above Gaia, the mother of the mother.

The cosmic colony seems to be a very bright star with the
“apparent speed of an airliner.”

Walter Winchell would have called the result of this orgasm
A Blessed Event. And so it is!