Complex

Now you know
I was once
committed
for owning
one more
complication
than I
could juggle
without dropping
everything
while my dog
barked warning
that the church
pounded nails
out of scrap iron
ready to pierce
my flesh
as a refresher
parable
for the rows
and rows
of warehoused
worshippers.


copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

Tumbleweed Church

We unyoke two Coopers Hawks
in the Sandia Foot Hills.

Downed doves bend flower stems
on the disassembling.

Undressed cactus skeletons
catacomb small beetles.

A burst of dandelion puffs.
A sudden gust starbursts the sky.

We are beautiful here
so far from the sting of buzzwords.

A rock blossoms with a thrasher bloom.
A tweedle-leet alerts the faithful to our presence.

This tumbleweed church. This rabbitbrush hall.
Unpolished fossil vuggs in the rising walls.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

When I Stare Long Enough

A bar named Lawrence Henderson
sits at the edge of the Grand Canyon
to blur people into the hazy splendor.

The proprietor warns customers
against taking selfies near the edge
whether drunk or not.

He arranges the bathroom soap scraps
as the white squares of a chess board
five moves from mate.

He arranges his many patrons like pawns,
declares them a poem—
not a game to be won, lost or drawn.

Some folks think they enter a church
when they enter his bar, but the proprietor knows
the canyon instills that in them.

After a nine month gestation, Lawrence Henderson
decides he has seen enough, ceases to be a bar
and walks home, following the mule deer’s narrow trail.


copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney

postscript

I have been to the Grand Canyon. Once when young and able to scurry down the river and back up in a day. Most recently a couple years ago to help my brother and his wife celebrate their 50th anniversary.

The idea I started with for this fancy was that viewing the grandeur of the Grand Canyon makes you drunk and blurry. So drunk, in Lawrence Henderson’s case that he becomes a bar that others may enter. Silly, I know. But I like to think of it as surrealistic.

I believe that immersing oneself in nature can be very curative for the soul. Story example is the 2014 Movie Wild. As regularly as I may I go into the foothills east of Albuquerque and walk. Some days I drive to the top of the Sandia Mountains or to one of New Mexico’s natural wonders. It does me good.

Even with Winter upon us, I hope you have chances to get into nature for your own well being.

Love & Light. Tree & Leaf.

Kenneth