No Fairyland or Ground Control


said Spider to Fly,
“it was your forever moving
out of reach, the ever expanding
web now converses,
top and bottom ,
side to side”

said Fly to Spider,
“the definition of
in the process,
is being formed”

“Where and how will it end?”
lamp lit, the poet pens.

Will they walk the walk of love?

Somebody said,
“We are all born naked –
the rest is drag.”

They imaged a world
comfortable enough
in their birthday suit
never to be
abused again.

The creatives returns
to the work at hand
here and now.

first light by Jim Wilson


across the river howler monkeys still howl
the coppery stillness of the river
two men in a dugout
one standing in balanced yoga
tosses a coconut to splash
to fool the fish into thinking breakfast is near
he casts his net

and back home
the fish have all been caught
they have a car so they can work hard
so they can have a car
so they can work hard
so they can have a car…

To Anna via Cyrus Cassells


“To Anna,
With admiration
for your beautiful
Blessings to you

Cyrus 9/17/99

I do not know, Anna,
why you let go of
Make ^ A
nor do I remember how
your copy came to me
or what you lost or gained
in between

having marked four passages
before I pass to a friend
there’s a pressing
to remind you
and thank Cyrus Cassells
for them:

“To sit in judgment
Is to sit in hell -”

God-in-the-guise-of-this-flesh -”

“Here are flowers of deep suffering,
Swaying in the heart of God -”

“O grant us strength to fashion a table
Where each of us has a name -”

* published by Copper Canyon Press

Wild Roses by Jim Wilson


as the darkness slithers over the land
and the nothing swirls across like evening fog
uninterrupted save by soapbox shamans
climbing up higher to try and catch and mend
a million broken arrows and send them straight
back into the bone of the beast
for even only lunatics know the price
of commodification of souls
once many grumbled
and then had their heads turned
by silver seducers having lost
the something that inhabits even gnats
in a process both old and refined the gatherings
of the avaricious mercury rolling into itself
an indistinguishable glob shiny and dense the greed
gradually ruled politeness because it wanted things
that once made brave folk quake
became entertainment scenes of others misfortune
induced laughter from the audience
forgetting how to smell a rose
wingless birds sing more incessantly
than new residents of nomansland
without wings, feet move in ancient dances
designed to make the spines of stars shiver with delight
and life that is hope stomp back the nothing
it will take time
to plant…wild roses