Muerte en el Gran Cañón

By Andrew Ulanowski

I’ve sometimes wondered
how long you would fall
if you were to fall
into the Grand Canyon . . .
I suppose you could use some measurement,
some formula that has you hurtling through the air
at ‘X’ miles per hour until you hit ‘terminal velocity’,
or the canyon floor.


Fitting phrase that, ‘terminal velocity’ . . .

I wonder how long it takes
for you to mess your pants up
on the way down.
I bet Wiley Coyote knows.

How humiliating it would be
to get beaten to death
by your backpack filled
with life-sustaining water
and granola bars
just before you make your mark in the world.


Read more Ulanowski poetry under his pen name Raul Aqua at Scribd.com/Raul Aqua

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MEETING HIS MOTHER

by Ryn Gargulinski

I wanted her
to like me because she
was his mom and he
was my boyfriend and
the first impression is the
lasting impression that can
make or mar the future make her
hate me for 12 years so I brought a
homemade trinket chitted chat about
her past said I really like your house this fine
gold carpet looks brand new and she

may have gone and
liked me just fine – if my dog had not
straddled that
gold carpet and
peed.

See more Ryn writing and art at RynRules.com and Rynski.etsy.com

A dirty house is an angry house

CHEZ WINDEX

The Housecleaning Poem

my house
thanks me
when I
clean it by
embracing
me with
sweetness
and not
smelling like
someone
died.

-Ryn Gargulinski.09.30.09


Click here for more poems and Ryn's website

LAWNBOY

watching grass grow may
be mundane but when you
spy the first
spudlets in their
soft, supple
sprouts six
days from reseeding
like it said on the
bag you get a thrill as each
little bud pops up – so

tender, so vernal, so
fragile – and not yet
discovered by the
dogs.

-Ryn Gargulinski.09.12.09

Click here for more poems by Ryn

Click here for Ryn's website

STITCHES

my mom
would not like that I
never clean my
doorwall but I
tried it one time with
disastrous results – with no
mud prints or paw streaks or
drool stains – the dogs thought the
glass door was open – the impact it
nearly broke
their heads.

-Ryn Gargulinski

SURRENDER

the waves say “hello, I want to
suck you in” I want to
let them – I want to
gush to the
bottom of the
ocean – ride
rampant with the
free weeds in the
sea – I want to swim
quick with the sharks dart
twixt coral as sunfish swish
slow as a sailfin who
glides in the breeze – to
slither and ooze like the
eels – who have
nothing else or
better to do.

-Ryn Gargulinski

CASA

when you make the
beach your home you note when your
furniture moves – your driftwood – often
jammed to the shoreline or floating at sea you see
grooves move your sandy sand carpet, the
the footprints of lovers or demons or
thieves your radio stays
tuned to the ocean, sometimes
loud rock and roll or a soft
organ fugue you never need
lightbulbs for the
sunrise – you never miss
the magic of a day.

-Ryn Gargulinski

ODE TO MARY’S AQUABLUE SHIRT

mary’s aquablue shirt that is
blazing blue bright and goes
with my tote bag that she can
wear three times if she's
careful without washing is
almost
as blue as
the
sea.

-Ryn Gargulinski

PLATTER

the girls who
watched me
feed the cat at
last night’s
dinner said hello again
today as I
stepped from my hut they made
small talk of acorns &
seafoam -- & coconuts &
feeding the cat – their
dad’s booming voice then screamed
loud behind a palm tree said
“come here right now” it sent
shivers down our spines – I’ll bet
he told them don’t talk to
strangers – especially with
red hair and tattoos – he probably told
the girls I would chop them up in
pieces and hurl their remains in
the sea – how

sad that the world is so
paranoid – how sad that it’s
frequently justified.

-Ryn Gargulinski

COURAGE

courage
doesn’t have to be
something big it just
needs to be
courageous like
wearing those
glasses with
rhinestones – or
letting your
hair soak
in the rain.

-Ryn Gargulinski

SUBSTITUTE DOGS

for Phoebe and Sawyer with love from
substitute dogs Sadie and George

I’ve found two
substitute dogs on the
beach – as my real dogs they
had to stay home – the beach dogs
don’t play dead but they
know how to sit but alas I have
nothing to feed them – unless
they want cigarets or Altoids – they
swim very well yet don’t
come when they’re called but then
neither do my
two dogs at
home.

-Ryn Gargulinski

IT ALWAYS RAINS IN CASEVILLE

Everything can
suck – if you have the
right mind set just
add a scoop of
negative a
mad dash of
hate – the starlight’s

too bright the
ocean waves too
raucous the
sun is too
yellow the
grass much too
green – you can

even kill the
joy of a
bubble bath – by
bemoaning that the
water’s much too
wet.

-Ryn Gargulinski

PLATTER

the beach
at night
has secrets – only seen
in the beam of a
flashlight – all the
white crabs who
skitter as if
caught in a lie or
the ones who
stand bold to do
battle – with the
claws poised sharp
points scissored wide – or the
others who hunker since you
caught them at
murder as you glance a
skinned fish quite
beneath them – with its
guts loose and missing
an eye.

-Ryn Gargulinski

TAXI

the chaos and
mayhem of the
airport – remind me
quite fondly of
my brain.

-Ryn Gargulinski

FENCE

my dog wants
whatever he
cannot have he stays in he
wants out he goes out he
wants in give him liver he
wants beef he gets chicken he
wants cheese he whines and
paws and pines for the
unattainable – a trait that makes him
bothersome – and human.

-Ryn Gargulinski, 04/2007

BABY WIPE

he will not
greet me at the
door, my blasé dog, who
gets mad if I come home too
early, upset I’ve encroached on his
nap but – he lies in wait, in
ambush – when I step
from the shower with
water on my legs to lap
at the moisture and tickle
my knees I wonder if he’ll
sicken from the lotion – or
infect me with swipes of his tongue – but then
I recall some stuff I once read oh yes
sanitary dog tongues and their
spotless success while it’s
true they’re not great to wash the
dishes – they’ve been rated best to
primp a newborn babe.

-Ryn Gargulinski, Jan. 2007

WHOOPIE

For Phil who did not like my blog’s black background

we would
argue that
white is the
fright of all
colors in a jumble while
black is, in fact, the
absence of hue – unless it’s
on your eye and then it’s
purple.

-Ryn Gargulinski, Jan. 2007