Trust

Trust

A friend of mine is adamant
Thinks it highly important
we keep the words "in God we trust"
emblazoned on our currency.

I hate to disillusion him
but God has done quite well
for several millenia
without our endorsement.

God will undoubtedly do so
long after we all have departed.

Poems by Ray

Wind

It rattles 'round my brain.
A freight train it roars
up canyons, mows down trres,
yet autumn leaves remain.

Pine Tree Tops

Quoting A Poem from Gary Snyder

Pine Tree Tops
in the blue night
frost haze, the sky glows
with the moon
pine tree tops
bend snow-blue, fade
into sky, frost, starlight.
the creak of boots
rabbit tracks, deer tracks,
what do we know. - Gary Snyder

Oil

Reposted by popular request.

Oil
Ray Zimmerman
7/5/2010

B.P. Drills for you.

Dick Cheney gave them money,
a few million or so
of taxpayer dollars
to assure America’s
energy future.
Denied they were at the meeting

Sarah Palin said
drill baby drill,
you betcha!

So the earth bleeds
oil into the Gulf
killing fish and fishing
directly or by fear.

Insinuation – don’t you dare
eat that shrimp, marinated
in the earth’s blood, in
ancient microbes under pressure
to give up
their energy stored for
our rainy day.

So the earth bleeds
killing fish and fishing
scaring investors into selling
all those condos on the beach
for pennies on the dollar
saved for their rainy day.

Their retirement goes up in flames
flaming tar balls
on the beach,
scaring tourists into staying
far away.

Put that vacation money away
save it for your rainy day.

The governors say
we need the revenue
from oil wells
with tourism going away.

Keep on drilling.

With fishing up in flames,
keep on drilling.

We need jobs
on the oil rigs.

Keep on drilling.

I say no,
stop the drilling,
but I keep driving
my truck,

reports of dead pelicans
on the radio as
I keep driving my truck.

Reports of broke fishermen
on the radio
dead fish washing ashore
still life with sand
painted by an artist,
his oil on canvas rendering
of oil on fish
of oil on beach as
I keep driving my truck.

Signs

Signs

Clouds promise rain.
Cuckoo sings his promise too.
All signs fail in dry weather. - Ray Zimmerman

Red Star

Red Star

I awaken
beneath Antares glare.
You are still gone. - Ray Zimmerman

A special place

A Special Place
Ray Zimmerman
© 2010

There is a special place in Hell
For people who design
Online forms.

The single mother, whose
public terminal shut down,
just before she completed
the unemployment application,
will dance on your fingers
as you dangle from a cliff,
from which you never fall.

If you designed a phone system
to intentionally prevent
the caller from speaking
to a human, you will forever
push buttons, that lead nowhere.

Para Español, marke el dos.
Lo siento mucho,
no habla español.

To obtain credit
for time spent in Purgatory,
press three.
If you have lost
your travel visa for Heaven,
press four.

Your call is very important to us.
Please be patient.
All demons are busy assisting
other Hell bound customers.

Three Degrees

From my Cape Cod Days chapbook.

Three Degrees at Race Point

Its was three degrees, but
they were three good ones
when I coaxed my car to start.

I drove the frozen wasteland
empty and desolate as only
a tourist town in winter can be.

We walked half a mile
across the frozen breakwater,
cold water on either side.

Falling in could mean hypothermia;
perhaps death before rescue
from the cold Atlantic water.

Perhaps the tide would come in
stranding us at the Race Point Light.
We might not come home.

The adventure took us onward,
the point of the whole thing
being a snowy owl seen out there.

It was at Race Point,
the far end of the Cape,
beyond the breakwaters and roads.

The bird had sense enough to fly
further South than usual,
sense enough to keep warm.

It was the coldest winter in years.
Having more sense than me,
The owl got the point.

We arrived at Race Point
and missed the point,
the snowy owl that is.

The owl abandoned Cape Cod to us
and to a short earned owl
an unusual sighting in its own right.

The short eared owl was not
a lifetime achievement for me,
or for my friend.

My friend’s wife had warned us
not to go and wrung her hands at
our impending death and doom.

She said “I always thought
you bird watchers were crazy,
and now I know for sure.”

Christmas Day

Christmas Day

So the sun has run its course,
turned to northward once again.
Winter chill is in the air.
Southbound cranes give rattling call.

Solstice gone and Christmas here,
I greet the winter chill with cheer,
feel reborn as icy winds
massage my skin restore my strength.

When the stars break through the clouds,
aimless ships set loose by wind,
horizon reddened by the moon,
Bracing winds restore the soul.