The Gospel According to Lil Abner

The Gospel According to Lil Abner

If I had my druthers
I’d druther have my druthers
Than anything else I know…Bobby Darin

I’d druther be a pair of ragged claws
And etc. than live without my druthers

I’d druther be born in Arkansas
Then live with a woman who smothers

My druthers, keeps me locked inside a cage
Hates the fact all men are brothers

I’d druther be my sorry self
Than a stagnant wimp upon a shelf

I’d druther live as a spirit free
And choose the way I wanna be

So dear you’d better find another,
I’ll never give up until my dying druther

The Longest Day of the Year

The Longest day of the Year

Fly fisherman imagine that the rivers
are running only for them, there where the spring
from the high lakes form with a trickle
of snow-melt. Yawning in the spring run-off of sleep,
flow memories of flora and fauna, children, labor,
family and comedy and tragedy, the quiet thoughts
of loss, and the odor of love and the pulse
of the heart that is beating now, at this moment,
where the fish are rising in each of us, and no-one else.

Not So Plain Bill

Not So Plain Bill

Today another Billy passed
Billies are vast
Twas Billy May
Billy the kid, another day
dead on Boot Hill
Buffalo Bill
Then William Tell, another Bill fell
Where archers dwell
Billy Carter and Billy Bob
Joined the mob
It's been a thrill
We'll see ya Bill!

When the River Sang

When the River Sang

I followed the verdant forest path,
Because magic was near the brook,
And strung and dressed my line,
And attached a mayfly to a hook;
And when the fly was in the air,
And the sun's rays were peaking through,
I saw the trout rise in the pool,
And softly mouthed a small prayer.

When I lifted it to the bank,
And almost had it in the net,
It flipped off and my heart sank,
But I wasn't ready to quit yet.
To my surprise, I heard a song
rising from the rivers flow,
A sacred song, a song of love,
Serenading me from below.

Although I'm slowly fading,
And my flies seem old and tattered,
The mermaid's song will lure me on
Until my ashes lie scattered,
And float among the fish and fowl,
Drifting in the stream until I'm done,
And sing and dance to the Osprey's cry,
And warm my soul in the setting sun.

Plecoptera

Plecoptera

An ugly bug the stonefly
A brief time to live and die
Prized by trout and fisherman
An ugly bug the stonefly

One to imitate and tie
To put fresh fish in the pan
An ugly bug the stonefly
A brief time to live and die

Enough Said

Enough Said About Lovely Hills and Dales

I can’t make a fuss about the clouds
They get enough attention as it is

To explore the least among us, the
Downtrodden forgotten souls,

dreams crushed, hungry for love
in cold cities, remote farms,

dank dungeons and empty nests
yield enough material

for a tome the size of a chocolate
cake, big enough to feed a million-

man march celebrating in a frenzy
as the sun erratically spews gases

whimsically rearranging the climate
of the world with its perilous rays.

Poet's Corner Perspective

Poet’s Corner Perspective

Lush, verdant, a small spot tucked
away in the woods, The Poet’s
Corner a hidden gem amongst
the ordinary plethora of words-
forgotten, unappreciated in a world
of commerce, befuddlement, baseball.
A nugget concealed deep in the veins
of a dark mineshaft awaiting discovery.
A poem, supple as a mother’s breast
to nurture the child within.

Come Along With Me

Come Along with Me

I want to take you home
Where we can make love like
Howling wolves under big sky
And hear the blue heron’s song
From the mighty Missouri

I want to take you home
And eat huckleberry pie
In the Bitterroot Valley
Or explore the trail of Lewis
And Clark; inhale fresh pine

I want to take you home
To visit places of my youth-
Emerson school, Sun River,
Augusta ranch, the white church,
Gibson Park- my beginnings

I want to take you to home
Where the buffalo roam
And the skies are not cloudy
All day- home on the range-
The treasure state; Montana-
My treasure

Vanishing Act

Vanishing Act

I have always lamented the slaughter
of the great bison. Massive herds
like raisins on white cake once
dotted The Great Plains.

I have never understood the paltry
salmon runs that once filled Rivers
as gnarled traffic in LA at commute-
time.

I fail to fathom diminishing rain forests,
which once covered massive portions of the earth
like thick hairs on the head of civilization,
filtering impurities, sustaining life

I cannot conceive of a world without
flora and fauna, trees and animals
speaking in mysterious tongues,
whispering my name.