birds are not real, but birdfeeders are so are the squirrels that raid them angels are real so are the bless’d anvils where angels are beaten into existence with imaginary hammers carnations and dahlias and oleanders, not real sugarcane is real, cocaine is unreal horse lemons, real flag wax, real frisbee golf, real, but illegal in all fifty-seven states yesterday i re-read revenge of the lawn by richard brautigan, this time with my eyes open watching out for stray lawn darts richard brautigan is real but bird’s nest soup is not i have an uncle named jay bird, yeah, that’s his real name he lives in florida which isn’t real, unless you’re a snowbird and enjoy shuffleboard and don’t mind all the whackadoos politicians are real and taste like chicken two fish swimming in a fishbowl, neither will speak to the other they swim in angry circles one fish starts to think, and think and think then swims up to the other and says: oh yeah, well, if god isn’t real who changes the water? birds are not real, but flying fish are roosters, not real flamingos, not real pink plastic flamingo lawn ornaments, real today i am re-re-reading revenge of the lawn but this time much slower, looking for clues i know d.b. cooper is hiding in there, and bigfoot canada is real, but only in picture books the cellphone superglued to the palm of your hand is real but your facebook friends are not and guess what- neither are you hidden messages emitted from fluorescent lights are real, but i’m unclear on the science of tinfoil hats, will they save me from electromagnetic madness or just cook my potato-shaped head even faster? my distress is real (and i don’t want to live in a world with no birds and an evil cabal of imaginary squirrels selling birdseed on every street corner and artificial flamingos playing frisbee golf with my naked-as-a-jay-bird uncle in a town with no carnations where the kool-aid flows like streaming reality shows and mr potatohead is the mayor) tomorrow i will re-re-re-read revenge of the lawn this time backwards in the bathtub, with the lights turned off birds are not real but their shadows are
Author: phillip woodruff
happy earth day!
sorry i keep disappearing, but the weather has been so nice, and i was cooped up for so long, i just can’t focus on poetry at all, i just want to be outside. so instead of any new poems today, here is what i have been up to:

these are the collegiate peaks in central colorado, just north of taylor park reservoir, i believe all those peaks are fourteeners, and this mountain chain is part of the north american continental divide, all watersheds east of these mountains flow into the gulf of mexico, and all watersheds west of these mountains flow to the pacific ocean


i camped a couple of weeks upstream on the taylor river along these ponds. spring thaw was in full swing, and the area was very swampy. the fishing was pretty good

that’s a moose standing in the middle of the bog. i didn’t see any calves, but there may have been one bedded down in the thick brush. this is as close as i will get to a moose while i am on foot. many years ago, i accidently got to close to a moose calf and momma chased me up a tree… lesson learned
about five minutes after i took this photo, a bull elk popped out of the trees up on top of the hill, took one look at that moose, and ran away. kind of wish i had been taking a video

i plan on spending more time up here this summer. but now that my foot is rehabbed and feeling good, i guess i should go find a job =)

happy earth day everybody! i know i’m a day late, but in reality, every day is earth day, and what an awesome place the earth is, wouldn’t you agree?
new boots
dear unrelenting neverending uphill battle i bought some new boots today size twelve double wide steel toes and hard soles does that frighten you? of course not you are the unrelenting neverending uphill battle journey with no arrival mindless ambition, missions and visions tall as denali long as god’s shadow all of us on trial as a kid i got my ass kicked by the other kids in school beat down in the home that i ran from beat down in the streets i ran to as a man dragged down in the great recession lost the business i built from spit and dirt and beaten flat in the aftermath by the i.r.s. cut down to size in the eyes of soulless white collars got my ass kicked by every boss i crossed every woman i loved, everything below and everything above thugged and mugged in the dark left for dead and i wreck myself when no one else will cause i don’t know myself without any bruises can you see all the teeth in my eyes? i’m a bubba-shaped object hands like two pitbulls a mind made of knuckles a heart of scar tissue blood like burnt diesel my name is no-shame and i’ve got some new boots dear unrelenting neverending uphill battle i’m coming for you