Scarecrow

riding around down a country road when I saw my brother
waved at him and he waved back

got a lot in common with mr. scarecrow

we both repel, people in my case, crows and birds in his

we both just kinda have a way to say stay away

out there in the sun and the rain he is

don’t make no mattermind to him

I hide from the sun, thrive in the rain

emerge from the darkness under neon lights 

don’t think I’m so scary but maybe I am

am I that menacing? intimidating? frightening?

moody maybe, quiet definitely

behind the dark sunglasses 

maybe an aura of leave me alone

so what’s wrong with that? I just need someone to understand me

nobody’s got time for that

nobody cares

crows are scared of the scarecrow initially

then they get used to him

they aren’t dumb, they figure it out after a while

you have to keep moving him around so they think he’s real

change his clothes once in a while

I should try that sometime, maybe it works

they often are made up to be scary looking

that’s probably my makeup too

some people project death and fear onto a scarecrow

I can identify with that

Restless Soul

this restless soul keeps traveling 

a journey to points unknown—uncharted
down paths of darkness and alleys of dubious repute
undetermined encounters with past lives
or future lives not yet lived
looking for salvation in the sea
wishing upon benevolent stars
that twinkle high above someplace beyond reach
far beyond where I lay in the night grass
doing some random lucid dreaming
sprawled under the weight of the universe
watching the pine trees shimmy in the midnight wind
jets passing by red and green lights flashing
talking with other planes in the sky
a family of owls calling to each other
crickets on the insect wireless
passing music from a passing car far away
a train horn in the distantness of the night
I rise and make my way
encounter a golden retriever who is by himself too
seems friendly enough
wonder if he has a home or he’s just passing through like me
stops for a rub on the head and off he goes
tomorrow morning I follow him down the road

Cabin In Siberia

it distracts for a few hours like a couple of strong drinks

hockey takes my mind off things, you know the way they are
work, life, life, life, that miserable cesspool
insignificant in the grand scheme of things I suppose
doesn’t pay the rent or for the food
but I like watching it anyway, I had a friend who played
the goalie says his house in northern new hampshire
reminds him of home in siberia
cold-- - very cold, lots of woods
remote...far away from the craziness
visited only by a passing moose, maybe a crazy moose
that got me thinking about...
crazy but I’d like to live in siberia
far from the madding crowd as hardy once wrote
in some log cabin with fireplace
a view of snow glistening pristinely in the winter sun
maybe a view of the mountains but the woods would do
cabin fever wouldn’t live here
trusty axe for chopping small trees but only if they were dead
I wouldn’t feel right cutting down a live one
snowshoes even though I don’t know how to use them
vodka, coffee, lots and lots of coffee, some books
probably no wifi out there
guess I’d need a lantern for reading at night
tolstoy, dostoevsky, pasternak
maybe Rasputin’s ghost would stop by for some vodka
probably after a while I’d see the ghosts of Lenin and Stalin
the good times we would have a-ha-ha-ha