12/24 any year

 12/24 any year

there's a box and another.
another. another. another.
gifts are to let go of, and
like lottery tickets are not
to be used for investment
purposes - whatever the
diamond sellers tell you.

snippets of vintagerie 
and advice in the on-line edition

thanks to astonishing impresarios,
former foundrymen, former ...er...
politicians and eclectic artists advise,
"don't try this at home, except when
you do." you see, difficulties attend
every gestation, and fill our oh so
short summers with beguilement.

    news from a small town 52, December 2011

assigned reading

once upon a time in a land
where Chinese miners were
murdered, the literati decided
to read about the lives of their
descendents, older and newer,
to check out the traditional chow -
not the kind Americans eat – to
play the gambling games, to learn
the lives of the ones made in-
visible. this is called progress, in
between the bar fights and in-
justices. life lurches forward and
sometimes it doesn’t. growth is
hard to see except when it isn’t,
except when it is held up as
a shining example of what we
won’t tolerate here. if you
make yourself small enough, we
may just let you be, maybe even
call youfriend. but you never know
for sure. watch how we treat
each other, and then you decide.

    news from a small town 51, December 2011

wrong turn

twenty years ago, a wrong turn,
turned back any number of times,
returned to town, got a new job,
a new life, a new car – came back
to the end of the road, took
a deep breath, bounced and
jounced down the track to where
you are, got turned away at last.
now I need a new road, friend.

     news from a small town 50, November 2011

semi-feudal fiefdom (Joseph, Oregon)

there’s always a lemon floating in this
traditional style lemonade. and -
sometimes you just can’t make up
the muck that passes for reasoned
discourse here, so here goes: via
PhD, we are a semi-feudal fiefdom
in thrall, with pre-capitalistic systems
serving to protect something from
something (but we aren’t sure just
what) -  nonetheless, we will enforce
our ways, and blame you for the kids
who need milk, the mills that have
run off to richer/poorer pastures, and
the places where our pillowcases are
not recognized at the local laundry.
be still my heart: those people like
those people and so are to be pestered
with regulations and expenses – then
we’ll lower the boom anyway, hints
the realtor on the commission. but
shooting one's foot, lynching, and
bar fights are the favored means of
making a living here, because, you know
it is the tradition, but not anyone can play.

    news from a small town 49, November 2011

winter zen

half an inch of mystery -
flake by flake

white on white on white

     news from a small town 48, November 2011

mustelid news

photo-perfect, a pair of
they-aren’t-here wolverines
appear, eyes shining in the
spotlight. and now the game
department celebrates what
they pooh-poohed before -
and the old biologist who
could have said “told you so,”
just makes two more marks
on his collection of sightings –
that makes ninety possible, thirty
probable, two on digital media.

    news from a small town 47, November 2011

sonnet for the merchant's association

the merchants are thinking of disbanding
after the holiday celebrations - maybe
"We'll just go hang with the group down
the road - make it two for one in a bad
economy." that's loose in the paper, just
before the next holiday sale. time to see
will it feel good enough to keep it together. 

over coffee, they debate: "Do we feel safe
enough  to do this, knowing just how the chair 

of the gang next town down whips her group
into shape, paralyzing independent action?
and what about what they all say - behind
her back? or are we grown-ups enough 
to make the right next choice, til next time?

and there in the corner, whispering, the same
old troublemakers: "We can take over, you know."

    news from a small town 46, November 2011

ranch dressing

I am the fatted calf; let the bellering begin 

as I go down to the trampled water grounds
wearing this season’s seeds and burrs.
I strut a grazing gaze across the landscape
that carries within it the seeds of deconstruction.
but you know, while cars can carry them
everywhere, ain’t no beggars ticks on me.

      news from a small town 45, November 2011

in the news: it's us v. us

in the news again: it's us v. us
however we make them the
them... and in response 
all that displeasure expressed
pithily-wittily – when enough is -
find a dark hole, bury self-satisfaction in’t.

     news from a small town 44, November 2011

how to lie with statistics and be quoted in the local paper

"killing two wolves won't have an effect on the population as a whole"

the only thing between us and tyranny is bureaucracy.
you don't want those official wheels to grind too fast

especially on illogical days when furlough cuts
the state paycheck a bit too tight at holiday time. thus:

"it's only two wolves - it won't affect the population
as a whole." but what I want to know is "since when

is dead not dead?" and if it's all true, then "why bother
with killing at all?" make up your mind! or wait, perhaps

it is. gather your troika and guns, boys, and be sure to
hang the wolf-loving B&B's out for breakfast. thus -

if you have twenty fingers and toes, what happens
if you cut off two? will that hobbling gait be nothing

to you? or will you hang around for the lopping
of another two, another two, till you run out? 

News from a small town 43, Oct 2011

Notes from and Interview (for Lasso the Wind)

Notes from an interview: “These rural people are
pretty simple and unsophisticated,” the local
rouser of rabble said, leading a mob of eighty
so-called friends and neighbors to hang in effigy
two folks on the other side of an idea. Not that
this is new. “Joseph didn’t sell” notes Tim Eagan,
lucky enough to be through here but not on
the business end of an imaginary lynch mob.
Meanwhile, life goes on. “Vote for me!” pleads
this one and that. "I'm of this place - and here
just for you is a bumper sticker equal in
intellectual weight to my estimate
of your intelligence.” And with that, we'll all
operate according to our morals (all secretly
thinking prophylactically - I don’t want my laws
enforced with someone else's morals - as
you never know where they’ve been.) Oh, it’s
beautiful here in Wallowa County - poor stolen,
beat-up landscape. And all of us are complacent
beneficiaries  - whatever side we're on, no matter
how righteous or not, we occupy the Wallowa Country.

News from a small town 42, Oct 2011

tis the season, but not the one you think

I’ll bet you three bucks 

you’ll find them hiding out
in someone’s back yard, 

browsing the lilacs in town, 
now its hunting season.

No need to confirm this
prediction – you know
two days before the orange
vests and whiskey bottles
hit the ground for good

all the whitetails, all the
mule deer have hit the
road for lower ground
where they’re strictly
off limits. Deer too, read all

the ODFW reports, and snicker
as they head straight to town,
where all the dogs know that
barking only brings on antlers
and hooves for the trouble.

News from a small town 41, Oct 2011

the illusion next door

five old men sit and solve

the problems of the world

or at least next door over

fair coffee and good muffins

five young women drive by

laughing and smoking and

not yet aware of fear or where

the next meal might not come

five middle-aged women

conspire over red wine and

good chocolate - it is not

at core, all about the men

five teen boys flex their fists

and contemplate pounding

fear of god and law and

where to get the next beer

it's a town like any other
some good, some wretched
some joy, some pain - but

all so very close to home

 News from a small town 40, Oct 2011

winter in a tea cup

that's not rain dancing
in the sky

only October snow 

 News from a small town 39, Oct 2011

again

we thought we might miss it
this is the week the larch pops
yellow on the hillsides, just
before frost bites the valley
just before the second snow
and just after that fake winter
that somehow lasted a week,
that second day of hunting season

 News from a small town 38, Oct 2011

Explanations and resolutions

Aug. 15

Unsecure business reported.

Aren’t they all?

Possible wolf kill.
Possible hooraw to come.

Aug. 16
Horse running loose on Highway 82 in rural town mid valley.
Ticketed for speeding.

Alarm reported at the Lake.
Oh gasp!

Aug. 17
Alarm at business reported.
There, there, dear. Nothing to fear.

Aug. 18

Suspicious circumstances in rural town up valley.
Aren’t they always?

Tractor fire reported from rural town up valley.

You’ve got to be kidding.

Revolver reported lost.

At least it works.

Dark-colored water reported from resident.
Too much vitamin B, perhaps.

Aug. 19
Dog complaint in town.

Cat therapist summoned.
 

Aug. 20

Road hazard up valley.

Three cars that morning.

Aug. 21

Horse on Imnaha Highway in city limits, owner located.
Horsing around in progress.

Motorcycle accident on the 39 Road.

Oh ouch.

Civil dispute up valley, noise complaint down.
Civil but loud.

 News from a small town 37, Oct 2011

applesauce season

little fresh apples
bubbling on
the electric hob,
a few leaves in
the sink; modern
homesteading
in Wallowa country

News from a small town 36, Oct 2011

     

personals (who would dare?)

rattling open the page

of my local paper, I see

so many options for life:

love-adoption-lots-of-love

allied health care, all on line

$135 divorce, 1-5 weeks -

and multiple anonymous meetings

the answer is in there somewhere

I dare you to find it

 news from a small town 35, September 2011

the conviction was eventually reversed (found poem)

Ancient curse:

may you live
in an
interesting
county.

news from a small town 34, September 2011

applications available (soul optional)

so you want to be

a rodeo princess

maybe the queen -

to ride down the

main streets of

grubby little towns

(just like home).
and you can be
in the grand entry

at every rodeo
grinding fairground
dirt to fairy powder.

all we ask is this:
don’t be too different, too

chubby, too intellectual - oh!

and you must promise to 
keep out of trouble while
you're representing us...

so no one can point
and snicker. here's how
we’ll know you’re good enough:

you won’t fall off, you will sell
tickets like hell, and you will

buy the company line.

news from a small town 33, August 2011

at the rodeo parade

The big drum talks
from the back of the pickup truck.
It is the day named for Chief Joseph,
perhaps  in honor, it's hard to say, exactly.
At any rate, there's a Pendleton blanket
bearing his name draped over the hood
of a Red Ford Ranger.
Each decorated truck and car swings
proudly into line, bearing
with care the young boys,
the young girls, whose place this WAS.
They carry feathered things, beaded things.
Watchers smile and say "how pretty!" but 

don't what they are talking about.
On the back of an old car decorated
with dibble sticks and
other practical goods, a flute from
some other culture speaks,
in time with the drumming of
the old engine. Or maybe that's the
tinny bass from a boom box playing

traditional drum tunes. It's hard to say.
Each in turn turns a corner
onto the main drag, and young dancers
and elder drivers toss the new
coin of the realm: cheap, sweet
candies that fly to the hands
of white children in cowboy hats
dancing along the road. 

news from a small town 32, July 2011

forecast: 83 degrees and snow

wake up and smell the ozone -
if you can get the door
latched shut in time.
there’s thunder in the air and
you can smell it coming
half a day away. it smells
like humidity and cotton
candy and a worn out
steam iron and yet not quite
any of that. but that was
then and this is now, when
the down draft whistles
down the canyons, shakes
the trees, and knocks out
the lights with a power that’s
entirely elemental. wipe
the desire off your face, rush
out, roll up the windows
on the rig – but too late… the
entire dash is spattered with
dust and raindrops, blown
in at right angles.the thunder
rolls down the mountain
in honor of our most famous
son, again and again. in
your nose it is the iron age, 
and the air tastes of zinc
and danger and the
sulking of an old friend.


news from a small town 31, July 2011

on the run

 

A gallop in the Wallowas.

the car window diet

in a rolling explosion
tourist doughnuts shatter

along the roadside and they are now
crow fodder, and emergency rations
for ants, and for the random dogs who
happen along, too. it is littering, say
the denizens of community service -
bending and bagging: and yet it is
good for you and you and you.

news from a small town 30, July 2011

the road to halfway is open

the road to Halfway is open at last -
and she has just discovered that
the day that starts over all
the yesterdays does deserve 
a kiss goodbye. even love that
turned out to be something
other deserves a ribbon for "best
try, under the circumstances."

it is the lifetime rodeo and she has
her new number now, and with it 
a water bottle, the radio on - but
no old stations to sing with.
the grateful road down valley
lies behind, and there is only the new.

no one is the judge of that, whatever
they actually think. first, you have
to buy it, but that credit card
is cut to little pieces, and just in
time. the new adventure awaits.

rocks and holes and limbs
and dirt clod the byway - sticks and
stones, you know! still it is okay
to wave farewell to your own past,
mistakes and delights alike, like a
century's worth of rodeo queens,
or like all the unwatched stems 
of bunch grass over on the prairie.

the drive-by begins. there's gas and
a wrench for flats, a sandwich
and even a cell phone, should the
road crest high and there be
signal enough to carry the brand
new story out into life and its new home.

news from a small town 29, June 2011

fable

at some point you make a choice
to get off the high horse
or to stay up there, stuck
like a balloon on the power line.

it will become our job as
good neighbors to ignore the change
or to exclaim over it –
perhaps with embellishments.

it is predictable: all that
passion wasted, and not even
a good bar fight to show for it.
look deep for one more round.

news from a small town 28, June 2011

summer changeover

under the mailbox
paper wasp's nest -

inside, one yellow flyer
 
news from a small town 27, June, 2011

vixen

scroungy little vixen
oblivious to company -

straws among spring greens
 

news from a small town 26, June 2011

local controls

post-holiday tradition

clack your beak, O eagle
over fresh placenta
in the fields -- january
is the season for calving
here, and steaming
fresh delicacies abound

cowboy qasida

claiming rightness, the truck slides
left over the stripes. Shall I shake

my fist or model evasiveness?
right or the other right, which

shall it be? You sumvabetcha -
just because you drive a big rig 

with naked girls on the flaps, do you
think you own the whole damn road?

of course you do, and so do I. time
for a showdown on the road to

the OK Quarter-Circle corral. I move
aside, for I know something you don’t -

where the young cop Charlie
is hanging out, speed gun in hand.

I'll show you manners for now, but
not an ounce of pity when I pass you by.

For Ty's pop
(you know where you are)

“$720 to go move another man’s cows – there’s
something not right about that,” you groan, and
while you are right, that is not the reason
anyone has ever done it. this morning breaks with
the first hard rain in months and snow in the
forecast. well, you promised us good stories.
let’s see how you do. meanwhile, friends around
the campfire, and we know that’s not a bottle of milk
you have in your bedroll. take a slug, grain your horses.

news from a small town 25, May 2011

qasida for a public meeting

at a public meeting in the county,
people fill the cracks between
the lightning bursts of agreement
or inspiration with murmurs.
they are soft and comfortable, often 
like mac-and-cheese – but mostly
harsh and char-burned: either
hard to stomach in quantity.
but look, you can make space
for yourself in here somewhere!
you can choose what pleases you
and the company that feeds you.
or ... you can duck and run. its just -
the casual or the civil is hard
to maintain; the thrilling - a wreck
in process. but you get to decide.
embracing the impossible-to-avoid
may be a virtue – or it may not.
you see, attachment to detachment -
complicates things. temperatures rise.
human beings: all the rattle, the bang.
his thunder/her echo: and wait for it,
just there, cooling on the counter–
a tepid cup of coffee-flavored tea.

news from a small town 24, May 2011

hope springs quarterly

it's time for quarterly reports and

the guys who play with giant

toy trains are

tightrope walking on the old rails

during spring reporting.

the public is all a-bubble

there's “an over-expenditure

with the debt service.”oooooh!

“I don’t think it’s horrible.

I think we’re getting it

paid off.” ahhhhh!

and down the road Old Jim

grumbles about

turning the county into

box car parking: "git
the dang things

away from my house, I can't

sell it with that trash there."

but just like every spring-

for sale signs pop all

over the county

like morels and calf's brains.

maybe

the tourists won't notice,

and maybe

they'll overpay.
hope springs. boxcars
and bettors settle.

news from a small town 23, May 2011

cowboy qasida

claiming rightness, the truck slides
left over the stripes. Shall I shake

my fist or model evasiveness?
right or the other right, which

shall it be? You sumvabetcha -
just because you drive a big rig 

with naked girls on the flaps, do you
think you own the whole damn road?

of course you do, and so do I. time
for a showdown on the road to

the OK Quarter-Circle corral. I move
aside, for I know something you don’t -

where the young cop Charlie
is hanging out, speed gun in hand.

I'll show you manners for now, but
not an ounce of pity when I pass you by.


news from a small town 22, May 2011

transaction at register 5

small town grocery clerk
hands small town sheriff
a bill and smiles.
"that will be $80."
"looks like I'm the one
who gives the big ticket
this time!" he grabs
the sack and smirks.
"you know, I had
my eye on you as you
drove past today."
"oh... well.... um... does
it count that I waved?"
he grins and shifts the
bag. "it’s the guilty ones
who wave the hardest." 

news from a small town 21, May 2011

dinner party: social news

news from a small town 20, April 2011

Praiseology

it’s time to praise the illusion
so kindly lend your attention and
raise your tin can to the local bad guys
who think they are the good guys

but not too fast: that could be
anyone - even you – or it could be
our cattle rustler who at least doesn’t
steal from the next-door neighbors or

the mayor’s spouse who hasn’t
started a bar fight in mule's years or
the retired major who storms the state
capitol, fulminating, or the neighbors

who fly a ragged flag all winter
even at their RV in gadfersaken AZ or
he-who-watches with a shit-eating grin or
she-who-colludes in the non-Zen tonglen

news from a small town 19, April 2011

greeting card at the hippie grocery

love, he said, is that four letter word
that bursts forth, occasionally
pleasing the company – but!
there is no right way to hear it.

you know you want to run. and
that is perfectly okay. even so:
you are known, well-loved,
and madly frustrating anyway.

love, she said, is simply that thing
that makes dirt and rain so very
beautiful and worthy (despite
the rep): and were it safer to explain

one or the other would hear this:
you are loved as you are and
as you always have been,
even back in the time before time.

and this: there is not a bit of need
to change. oh, love, that word!
now there's a pot-stirrer
for you! not even meant to bind.

poor little four letter word.

news from a small town 18, April 2011

the blonde strawberry (for B.D.)

At the coffee shop -

fee find faux fumbles: pull out
your wallet quick: see who pays!
let’s buy cookies from Heidi
and feed the wild geezers.

news from a small town 17, April 2011

the promise of what follows winter

half past rain, the sound
of spring birds at dusk

click of a light switch
just in time for dinner 

and the old truck
glides into the driveway 

nothing drips down
through the ceiling, just yet

somewhere the phone rings…
where did I leave it this time? 

meat sizzles on the range,
the refrigerator sighs, 

resigned to a pre-dinner raid;
the dishwasher – does --

and televisions yap and
video games absorb and 

homework calls: and
somewhere, someone writes 

a letter or a poem to hide
among the bills and ads

news from a small town 16, April 2011

school play

all the drama
here's your program -
him? just the usher

news from a small town 15, April 2011

in between times

left of black

right of white -

the wind at sunrise

  news from a small town 14, March 2011 

after the engine left

fire took the house. saved:
a shoebox of pictures; half
a cord of firewood


  news from a small town 13, March 2010

feeding the . . .

cracked corn sunflower millet millet wet fawn foot print sunflower millet cracked corn millet seed.

  news from a small town 12, March, 2011

in other news

the police blotto didn't include whatever it was.

no matter, in the run of things

its not really my business

anyhoo.

  news from a small town 11, March 2011

on the streets

Aeolius agitated on the streets
the ambulance flowed off
like a hearse escorted by
the usual public safety suspects

on the corner, ratted braids
and woe, untied boots
a big black eye: speechless
and midnight thunder in the air

yes – I know “are you all right”
is a stupid question. no, there is
notadamnthing that will help 

just leavemealone (you didn’t say that)

hour after hour the opportunities
knock on the door of perception
it is an effort to turn that way, not
this, and open to what comes

the only right thing there is, over
and over again… or option two:
to hide the rage and fear, and
suck integrity down the drain

   news from a small town March 11, 2010

coming

fool the eye, and all else -
this is the season
of trompe l' oeil, that
sneaky time that looks like
new beginnings - but
watch out for ice underfoot!
and all the while rain soaks
and soaks everything,
despite this place owning
such a dry reputation.
let's pretend - put on
sunglasses, sunscreen,
a heavy coat, a bikini,
and waterproof boots.
we'll call it spring
no later than july.

     news from a small town 10, March 2011

bring blankets

bring blankets.

tonight the wind beats the house in a pillow fight
first from the north, then from the east. fingers of
chilly that shouldn’t be able - reach under the door.
outside, the wind chimes do their thing, inside
the fire flickers wildly, even though it's just
tamed propane, and you just can't get a breeze
to go from there to here. one more time, then -
get up and bar the door. throw the rug over there,
over here. for tonight, all insolation is blocked
by the whole weight of the earth: we’re in
for a long, dark one tonight, and no mistake.

bring blankets.

    news from a small town 9, March 2011

the home fires

it happens this way

February the home fires burn
sometimes more than
intended

the fire department volunteers
grab their turn out and
turn out

for another winter home fire
smoke sprouts from
the valley floor

tomorrow, cans with names
scribbled will say
help

your friends your neighbors
lost everything but the
basement

the kid who works at the grocery
will gather emergency
supplies

the paper will declare the losses
the neighbors will make up
what happened

it happens that way

     news from a small town 8, February 2011

second fake spring day

dumb as mud, puddles stand
dumb as posts, except – the
splash, the squish, the runnels

     news from a small town 7, February 2011

post-holiday tradition

clack your beak, O eagle
over fresh placenta
in the fields -- january
is the season for calving
here, and steaming
fresh delicacies abound

    news from a small town 6, January 2011

how it happened

So she wrote a

bad check at the grocery
at 9:45 - made off

with a big chicken, potatoes
two cans of green beans
a skillet and
salt and pepper

Then she wrote a

bad check at the liquor store
at 11:10 - made off

with two bottles
of bad bourbon
cheap tequila
and novelty glasses

The law guy wrote a
pair of summons -
one for each draw on her ex’s account
and politely declined
dinner and
a postprandial drink, for
neighborliness has limits

even here

  news from a small town 5, January 2011
 

winter observations

fence wires hum in the cold

winter sunlight will never again
gleam exactly as it does today 

     news from a small town 4, January 2011

no way around it.
snap. step. swish. step. whshht, whshht, whsst.
hup. two. skid. four. slide.

     news from a small town 3, January 2011

achieving enlightenment

trip check

dense fog at night
the intersection
takes a vacation

     news from a small town 1, January 2011