how I react to a question when I’m obviously involved in something:

this distraction, having
stripped me of my defenses
rises up before me

an unwelcome Lucius with
a fistful of toga,
demanding explanation
to a world ready to act
at the signal

I process the inevitable

falling mute
is all I have to offer

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

cure #4

the turning inward
for diagnosis revealed
a required purging

it’s nice to unify

there isn’t much that will
bring together a people
quite as
completely
as irrational fear

I have seen them
drop on it –
wide eyed insects
chopping up a carcass
each going in
for their piece of paranoia

no matter how much
they shear
off of the mass
it continued to grow,
bloated and brackish,
doubling on rumors
bulking up on half-knowns,
it will gladly relinquish
parts of itself
into the hands of those
recently moved to
the task
of planting deep
the cuttings

it pulsates in odd rhythm
as its’ feastlings
quickly acquire
an expertise at
fretting and accusing
as roots take hold

until they finally succumb to
the shadows created
by the towering unreason
they have nurtured

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

cure #3

how it came to be
was through the frequency – a
healing vibration

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

umbrella – four views

today’s dry shadow
a day with no sun
today under umbrella

the umbrella kept
me dry, however – I am
also in shadow

this umbrella cast
a shadow that kept me dry
when there was no sun

the umbrella kept
me dry, this shelter, this place
also is shadow

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

cure #2

say what you will, you
cannot demystify it
when she lays her hands

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

the art of foraging was lost that day

he consulted the handbook
holding it
so the picture
was positioned
as close as possible to the plant
he was kneeling by
and in a classic error
in comprehension
he made his choice, then pulled

look, he held this something
to the sky,
wild carrot!
the rest of us looked
at it
then at him
our grins coalescing
into a group dare

using his shirt
he rubbed the dirt off
and bit off a good sized chunk
of the pale root
he chewed, he swallowed
and then
he spent a fair amount
of the afternoon
puking his guts into
a tin bucket next to his bunk

but we were survivalists
warriors of the woodland
we had no time to linger
over the fallen
so we left him to his fate

let the overlords
deal with the outcome
there were creeks to forge
and lands to conquer we
would fight on

right up until the time
we were called back
to the encampment
with its
hastily prepared
chicken ala king
the chocolate pudding powder
and the jug of
red unsweetened
bug juice

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

cure #1

when cat crawled onto her chest
it was the same as
putting pressure on a wound

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

classification: nearly extinct

there are some,
like Brontosaurus, who
are struck from the record
and conveniently renamed
for one reason or another

I want to slip back into
the stupor
I emerged from
go
back to
when I had bulk
and the luxury of moving slowly
through familiar places
where
the leaf was good
the water clean
I would
listen to the
first birds singing again
even if they didn’t sing
any better than I did

I was more of a tenor
than one would imagine
clear in tone
my eyes shone and
back then
my brain
was a perfect fit

now it seems to
rattle around a lot
too much room
under the hat that
polite society requires

and of course
there are the thumbs
I’m still getting used
to the thumbs

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead

letter home

time doesn’t seem
to hold up its end of
the bargain
as you organize
your sadnesses
once again
no one, not even yourself
has the time to care
write that down also –
add it to the other pages
then
put it away,
this,
your long
unfinished letter
home

(c) 2013 Fred Whitehead