It’s very simple dialectics. One through nine,
no maybes, no supposes, no fractions.
Dialectic logic is there’s only love and hate,
you either love somebody or you hate them.
~The Photojournalist, Apocalypse Now!
I think he was thinking of dichotomous
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or, Meet Me in St. Diego
Ding ding ding rang the dinghy
Well, not really the dinghy
But the bell on the dinghy
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The carcass of a doe
has lain for weeks
in a graveled ditch
on Twin Lakes road.
The lower half is gone
but the upper torso
rears back its head
in rigored anguish.
September. Court is in session again,
a darkness on the edge of our town.
Winthrop’s vultures have returned
to their perches in the forked snag.
On a hillside above Twin Lakes Road
a hand-painted sign beside a rugged cross
reads, “In loving memory of Josh and Rachel—
you will be in our hearts always.”
Population: Obstinate
In the family of gateway towns
north of Yellowstone National Park
Whitehall rightly self-identifies
as the neglected youngest brother.
The bearded seal suns on a floe
while a polar bear stalks it nearby
Biologists say it can smell its prey
up to twenty miles distant
“The female
is like
a deformity
of the male.” ~Aristotle
What sleight of manguage
did not morph cow to fe-bull,
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