Antitrust

The politicians say they only care
About consumer safety -- no debate
When people must be safe -- we would not dare
Deny that government must regulate.

But why do CEOs feast Congressmen
And ask for regulations to be made?
They capture regulations in their den
Of bureaucrats, so everyone is paid.

And when monopoly is made, it's fine
Until the wrong official is made mad --
And then the antitrust laws make it dine
Upon the fact it was a power fad.

The regulations make monopoly,
While competition is what makes us free.

Symmetry and Equilibrium

The coin is standing on its end
In perfect symmetry --
The little time that it will spend
(Potentiality

In quantum fluctuations, air
That's blowing from a vent,
The tiniest vibration) where
There is a small percent

Chance that no equilibrium
Will find this coin a place
Upon the table as a sum
Of our creation's trace.

Nostalgia

Medieval girth
Once showed the worth
of women, wide wastes, hips for birth.
A healthy Venus reigned
From stone age times of ice --
In recent times we've hardly gained --
A rail-thin culture has a price,
For with our wealth
We lost our health
And sensuality has waned.
A look at poverty is what we've earned,
Starvation-sallow cheeks and skin that's burned
From working in the fields
Is what our culture yields,
And so it shields
Us from our natural tastes
For fleshy hips and waists
Like that we see
In ancient pottery,
In totems and in paintings, luxury
In overflow.
But now the women are so lean
We do no grow
In health -- instead, we grow obscene --
Aesthetic judgments turn to rust
When faced with lust
We cannot trust --
We deserve only mirth.

OR-7

Alone, yet tracked, pacifically this wolf

Has wandered through the Cascade’s mountain passes

From Oregon to California –

He hides behind the pines and in tall grasses

In mountain meadows filled with flowers, filled

With game the wolf can eat. Alone, he finds

It’s mostly rabbits, pika, squirrels that he

Can catch and eat. When full, he mostly winds

Down old elk paths. He’s looking for a pack

And cannot know he is alone, the one

Lone wolf in California – he lives

Up to the name. He basks in the warm sun

And drinks from mountain lakes whose sapphire blue

Reflects the thin-aired sky, but when the moon

Is out, his haunting howl crowds out the rounds

Of hooting owls – he hears a calling loon

Instead of what he hopes to hear – another

Gray wolf to join him on his namesake quest,

To journey on with Journey as a mate

And hope across the new Pacific West.

Leonine Wisdom

Savannahs, deserts, forests, plains --
Environments that actions make, but have no goals
Like lion prides, each ruled by shaggy manes
And seeking to bring down for lunch weak zebra foals.

The wind blows through the grass in fractal waves
The lions interrupt as they go stalk and hunt
The antelope or zebras, what each craves
In proper networks so that none will be in want.

The lion does not seek to make its pride
The model into which the vast savannah must
Conform itself, for nature has denied
It both the knowledge and unwisdom of man's trust.

The Carpenter at Little Pawpaw Lake

"When I was a little girl," my great-
Grandfather said.
We laughed.
When he was young
His mother clothed
Him in dresses,
Lace bonnets,
So he and his sister
Could look alike --
"Else what use is there in having twins?"
Strollers with two girls,
A baby in drag
At the turn of the century.
"When I was a little girl,"
My great-grandfather said.
We laughed.
"You were never
A little girl."
And a tinny yellow
Picture would appear
From a faded jewelry box --
Two toddlers,
Faces framed by frills.

Walls or Wilderness

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." -- John Lennon

You hide in shadows cast by thick brick walls
You built around your city -- urban plans
Are made to keep out all the wild life, calls
Of wolves and meadow larks silenced by bans
Enforced to keep all that is wild at bay
For fear the wilds in you will answer them.
Come into the fields and sunshine and play
With me, the wolves, the meadow larks -- the stem
Of thorns holds roses, the color and scent
Are dangerous to your fears -- let them die
And live your life dangerous and wild, spent
In beauty and love, where joy makes you cry.
When your city and wilds join up in strife,
Then maybe you can love both me and life.

Weather

Through snow and ice I drove to see
My family, friend -- for you, I drove,
And when I come to you, you flee
Into the frozen, barren grove
I find dividing you and me.

Ice glistens branches weighted down,
The gray row sparkles in the sun --
Yet, here the brightness on the crown
Of trees does not invite -- I shun
The trees draped in their virgin gown.

I'm lonely on this salted walk,
The gray of sidewalks aren't the same,
The ice on them won't make them talk
As ice on branches do. A shame
The snow here's not like Dover's chalk.

The gray road brings me back to home,
Away from where you are. I miss
Nothing about the trees, the chrome
White skies, your absence, lack of bliss
I sadly felt -- so now I roam

Among these buildings rising tall
Around these short-sleeved, lonely men --
These men the same as me, we fall
And fall, are groundless -- that is when
The snows divide us. I should call.