How odd to see a ceiling fan
on the bottom of the Rio Grande rotating.
It could explain the geese
flying in circles without ceasing.
Maybe the line of their flight
will turn black and solid come winter.
The dog lies on red clay
enamored with the thought of tile.
The dog is tired from chasing goats
through fallen rose petals.
See how her sleep is interrupted
by its paw’s movement.
That too is the ceiling fan’s radiance—
a current flow submerging footprints.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
Sundays, after breakfast
we go to the park instead of church.
The park did not invite us
and felt put upon.
Its interest was in birds
especially flocks.
Enough of us responded
to meet-up text messages
that we began to resemble
a flock of geese.
The park complained
our outfits were not uniform
and the girls should not be wearing
manly bright mating colors.
In an effort to appease the park
we began singing
love songs to attract a mate
though none of us
intended to nest
where the park could observe
eggs hatching
or the antics of fledglings.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
I wake from a dream.
It was not my dream.
A flock of snow geese dreamt me.
An owl swooped down
with the message scrolling from its beak
I am the savior of the world.
The owl ate me.
But I did not die.
I felt myself pressed into canvas.
Hieronymus Bosch added colors
with confident brush strokes.
He shaded dimensions on a lost Annunciation painting.
Words scroll from Gabriel’s mouth to Mary’s ear.
The pope and bishops sit at a table in the background,
knives and forks ready to parse the cooked goose.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
I marched the football field.
One end to the other end repeatedly.
I scored a great many touchdowns.
No one kept score.
I marched as much as humanly possible
in a non-marshal manner.
I did carry a long paper tube baton and twirled it,
but that was to keep mosquitoes away.
Much of the time I marched I pretended
I was part of a drum and bugle corp band.
The rest of the time I marched I pretended
I was a protester near the White House.
There was some overlap in my pretending.
It was not my intention to interrupt
the President’s tea with India’s ambassador
with a hundred and twenty bandmates.
The geese at the nearby lake
paid me little heed after they learned
that I did not bring them any bread
and honked their disappointment.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
On Amtrak, Empire Builder, Chicago to Seattle,
a woman unwraps a newspaper cone
containing warm cinnamon almonds.
The aroma attracts the attention
of everyone in the car.
Her liberal kindness employs
a take two policy for each person.
She feasts upon fifty smiles,
stories from three willing to join her,
her view out the window.
They spot a lone coyote
sprinting across a barren space
to trigger a mass ascension
of snow geese at a lake’s edge
ice thin and crackly.
The coyote comes away
with a goose one wingbeat too slow
to escape gravity and the victory prance
that carries it home.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 