she looked at me, arctic blue eyes
mustering all she could
Thoreau's quiet desperation, trying to fathom
the fringed euphony, valence electron
catastasis, the eye of the hurricane
we poets can be very dramatic
not to mention full of shit 
do not tarry with poets dear
they will tear you from limb to limb

i watch the pelicans
dance in and out of the waves
remembering graves, the road kills
those mexican roadside markers
intentionally hitting the brakes too late
do not tarry with poets dear
we are here for life's'  magniloquence
not the trivialities of its bitches

upon the shore, the pelican stands
its' wing wave broken, setting sun
we share these moments
witnessing its death, realizing my own
come morning we no longer share the shore
you see my dear you are something
more important than a poet
you are a decent part of humanity
and i have learned somehow from a dying pelican
turning gently away the easy conquest
to ennoble, not to use, walk away from my solecism


           San Blas   91