Tiger Riding for Beginners

Traveling Poet Philosopher & Occasional Wiseacre

Posted on March 24, 2022 by B Gourley

the mud patterns
carved in the tidal zone
beat any
work of art by
Andy Warhol

nordic summer.
the wee hours look like either
sunrise or sunset
is upon us, and
either way, it's true

breathes in - pauses;
the expected words
do not come;
that rare instance when
mental filters work

chained to drain grate,
a truckable truck 
averts a
Russian nesting doll
grand theft auto case

sourdough starter --
for those thinking of 
having a child,
but who can't be trusted
with a dog or a cat

i was brave
when facing this spider,
until I learned
that within its name
was the word, "Jumping"

a swallowtail lands;
crashed into by another,
it doesn't flinch;
ten feet away, I lean in
and it flutters away

a murder of crows
congregates on the concrete,
and I feel angst.
sure, I’m smarter than a crow…
but smarter than the murder?

Posted on May 31, 2021 by B Gourley

the snake 
feels my footfalls
through its belly,
and i, too, feel its 
movement in my belly

Posted on May 20, 2021 by B Gourley

I watch the hawk
as it sits, watching me
It turns away first,
knowing I can't reach it
nor see it as it sees me