Friday, April 18, 2014

Can You Write A Poem About Bridges and The Moon

All day
bearing the weights
of cars and trucks
the bridges sigh at night
and arch their aching backs
in relief.
Being built for a purpose
doesn't mean one must
pursue that purpose
day in and day out.
Everything needs a
pause, a rest,
as the Moon
teaches us monthly
when she hides
in front of the Sun
to change dresses
and collect her thoughts
for a moment.
The Strong Force

The gravity of the moon
last night
pulled at my hair
and my ribbon arms

like a dream
scripted for lovers
who are racing
toward each other

the strong force
of mutual attraction
overcoming the
repelling force of fear

it almost felt like
school again
only now I had a pass
for every hallway
and library shelf
and an excuse
from every test.
Good Friday

The beauty of peeking through
stained glass windows
is that everyone turns
a different hue -
the minister green with
unresolved envy
that he's never married;
the couple in the front pew
cool blue with the winter
ice between them;
the elderly organist
red with passion for the hymns
she loves to play each week,
while the children are all
fidgety yellow sunbeams
wanting out to play.
Days To Come

I used to carry stacks of books
with me around my apartment
sometimes 15 or 20 and a few notebooks

they were my security
were they a wall?
I just know they made me feel safe
sitting beside them

but since you I notice the stacks
have shrunk so it's maybe
5 or 6 or 7 or 8 books
and a notebook

is this my wall coming down?
is this my life opening up
because of how safe
you make me feel?

suddenly I imagine days to come
with only one book in hand
and holding you with the other
In They Go

By the swimming pool
dipping toes in the water
unaware of the stroke of Fate
about to nudge them both
into the deep end
and neither care
as in they go
hand in hand.

Thursday, April 17, 2014

What The Faithful Need

Church bells chime in the distance
and though I can't see the church
I still know it's there
and isn't that a kind of faith

and even not recognizing the song
being given freely to the town
I imagine its words are sweet
and soothing

the kind the faithful need
so they can continue believing
everything is as it should be
and all is right in this
little corner
of the world.

Today is a grand day
for larceny from the sun
I mean the trees and grass
are all doing it
their little motors
burning sugar to make
carbon dioxide into oxygen
even the hawks
are sweeping overhead
and whooping like children
on thermals raised
by this all day bounty
so why begrudge a man
some vitamin D and a touch
of an early spring tan
I've even asked the bees
though they say nothing.
Seven Rubber Bands

Seven rubber bands
scattered on the pavement
and looking cautiously around
I can only imagine
what has escaped such bonds
and been set loose
in the neighborhood.
Villainy is afoot
yet no one else seems concerned
not the man in the red shorts
jogging by with his ears
stuffed with music
or the two young women
walking new babies in the sun.
Still there is villainy afoot
and walking back to my door
I can't help but feel eyes
watching as more
binding rubber bands
are loosened and fall
to the ground below.

The bulb
in the nightlight
as day comes on
its sleepy eye
flickering softly
ready to give in
to drowsy
electric daydreams.

Wednesday, April 16, 2014

TV Dinner

I turn off the meat loaf
since the reception is poor
and focus on the mashed potatoes
though with only about
two bites worth in their cubicle
it's barely a dialogue
more like a commercial
for the green peas
coming up next
which easily catch my eye
as I've always had a love
and interest in things to do
with gardening.
Not Yet

he showed me the stitches
on his neck
just below his jawline
where they took
the biopsy
black threads
greasy with Neosporin
to help it heal

then came the bad news
a lymphoma of some kind
I don't remember
the exact name
since the word cancer
makes me go blank

I lost my mother to it
and my grandmother
and there's always
a little fear
inside of me

they want to start chemo
on him right away
as in tonight
or first thing tomorrow

I hardly know this guy
just his first name
we meet sometimes
walking our dogs
and fall into chatting

he likes guns and hunting
I like poetry and music
but somehow
we're friends

I went home
after he told me all this
and sat on my bed
and cried

I never cried for another man
I've cried over women
yes what man hasn't
but never for another man before

and then I thought of her
the love of my life
and how we've really
just begun

and though I prayed for my neighbor
that the chemo would work
and he wouldn't be sick or suffer
that he'd be cured

at the risk of sounding selfish
I also prayed for myself
thinking of my lover
and how I want
all the time I can have with her
God willing

I prayed
and I said no
please not yet
God please
not yet
Very Good

you put
flowers in your hair
very good
let us head off
to Walmart then.
The Little Poem

Don't belittle
the little poem
for it can bite
or break hearts
with easy
Keep Your Eye on My Little Companion

O Earth
I think that's
a marvelous
magic trick
you do
with the Moon
and your
shadow hand.
This Moment

This moment
matters less
than the
moment before
and the one
to come
will forget itself
Guiding Star

Life and its vagaries
though my
flesh and bone boat
will always
steer its course
to you.

Tuesday, April 15, 2014

To The Music of Heartbeats

Let the dance
of your
rose hands
my face
and body
your spotlight
your floor. 

Monday, April 14, 2014

A Common Thing

Soap out my mouth
for the wild things
I wish
to do to you
but given the
slyness in your smile
and raised eyebrow
the taste of soap
is sure to become
a common thing.
Spring Fashions

Driving slowly
past store windows
crowded with mannequins
all smiles and pointing
off in directions where their kin
have gone to have
fun in the sun
and they wish they could
follow along
but there is work to be done
holding up the latest
spring fashions
for the shopping elite
who stop to gaze in lust
imagining how amazing
such colors and cuts
would look on them.

you make me
not want to wear
watches anymore -

I already know
the hours without you
are too long
Wrapped Generously

My heart
comes to you
wrapped generously
in stryofoam peanuts
and bubble wrap
just wield your knife
when cutting open
the box.

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Life And Gardening And Things

It is expected of old men
to gather over fences
and talk about life
and gardening and things
their sons and daughters say
about being stuck in old ways
but why the connection
of old to valueless
and the generations
who spoke face to face
without screens in the way
unless it was a species
of chicken wire
sure to keep the squirrels
out of the tomatoes.
A Change In Mood

Going out cold
coming in wet
is something one
cannot forget
a change in atmosphere
a change in mood
from good to bad
then back to good
the heart's spiny weather
is a rapid deal chaser
given often to melancholy
before becoming
its own eraser.
To Pasture

Gathered in castles
museums and
dusty collections
around the world
hollow suits of armor
dream of battle
and the scarves
of maidens.
For An Unkempt Lawn on Yew Street

The divine
in a blade of grass
or just
too damn lazy
to cut it
amongst yourselves
and write
your answer

Saturday, April 12, 2014


There is less time
each moment
and Saturday
is a thin sheet
offering the illusion
that something big
in the mechanics
of your life has paused
to catch its breath
or study itself
in a length of full glass.
But time isn't vain
and never betrays
its purpose.
Time is a weasel
and a snake.
A Bearable Thing

It's a jumble of emotions
tricked out like
tangled Christmas lights
though you know it's June
and impossible
they should still be out.

You box away the things
out of season and this takes
both hands and usually
a bit of bending.

Like the weight of picture-glass
it should be a bearable thing,
one we know
is coming for us all eventually;

yet denial is attached
like a bright, sharp
glistening tooth.
Hungry For Kites

The sky today is hungry for kites
the sun is begging for us to run
over slips of grass
trailing string as a promise of flight
once the paper catches enough air
to soar overhead
then demanding more string
as in life with those dearly
or early departed
rising until they are just a speck
though the memory holds close
their ways and voices
and it is all a matter of
never letting go of the string
that binds hand to hand
soul to soul
paper and sticks to
earth and ground.

I'm sure gonna miss
warm toast
and butter
when I'm resting
in the land
of milk and honey.
About A City

You can't write about a city
until you have lived there a while
and seen it through a couple of seasons
and storms, until you've walked your dog
down its streets at night with the
occasional car whipping past
windows open and laughter
pouring out to tumble on the blacktop
as it races off to somewhere
you've yet to visit.
You can't write about a city
sometimes until you leave it completely
and can look back on it
as though it were a painting
with the details of the artist's brush
only now coming to view
and you remember how the sunsets
filled your kitchen as you ate alone
but at peace with yourself
your dog curled by your feet
dreaming his own poems
that he'll never write down.
Speaking of Morning

Speaking of morning I have walked into another one.
The gravity is the same but I feel lighter.
Any tightness in my chest is due to a fever.
I would say my heart has swelled but love fills the soul.
The heart is an organ with four mighty muscled chambers.
Researchers have yet to find one strong enough to hold love.
Love resists muscle but yields to the little grey cells.
Or do the little grey cells yield to love, I have forgotten.
You forget a lot when you fall in love.
But you never forget your lover's face.
Speaking of morning I have happily walked into another one.

Friday, April 11, 2014

Aging Gracefully

As the years
pile on
we learn
race and color
never matter
since in time
we'll all look
at each other
with a silver
point of view.
Spinning Fast

Spinning fast
the earth struggles
to hold the oceans
in its palms
worried that
some day
all will fail
and the Moon
will receive
such a thorough
Dirty Work

Reaching for books
when I'd rather be
reaching for you
but all I have are
poems to send off
to you
though they chide me
to get up
and do my own
dirty work.
First Cut of the Season

Today the landscapers
passed through the apartment complex
giving the bushy spring grass
its first haircut of the season
and by dusk it lay
all in handsome lines
with just enough length left
for the wind to grab hold of
and play with.
The Eavesdropper

In the middle of the night
dogs in the neighborhood
bark at random and my dog
looks up from the clump of clover
he was inspecting to listen in;
so is he an eavesdropper
or are all dogs just too loud
with their secrets
letting them spill out
over the rooftops and
into the night air
knowing it is all nothing
we humans will ever
understand about or care.
Tea Leaf

Masquerading like a lover
gone haywire
in the city

leaving sparks where I step
for someone else
to clean up

a woman once read
my tea leaves
and told me I was
born from apples

and one day
I'd return

but for now
I'm reflecting
off every window
in the city

and my love
is no mask.
A Sad Totem

It's a sad totem
a lonely man
shaving for no one
going gently
over his Adam's apple
working gently
at the corners
of his mouth
no one to kiss then
and help find the spots
he's missed
like on the ridge
of his chin
a whisker by his lip
a speck of blue soap
below his left ear
that only the
loving mirror
of a pair of
caring eyes
can see.
The Last Days

Jehovah's Witnesses
on my
front lawn

these are
the last days
my love.
Fata Morgana

I've been there

you'll know
when you've
been there too.
O Music

O music
born of sex
and death

can you turn
the guitars
a little bit
Hulking Behemoth

of a day
can make you
you had
never been born

then tomorrow
comes through
and makes
you wish
you never
had to
Don't Do Windows

There is no
to glass
in fact
it's just
a pane.
The Irony

How quickly
the tables
once the doves
of peace
had been released
only to fly back
and scratch
at their trainers'

Thursday, April 10, 2014

You Begin

You begin the
eager chat of poetry
with your soul
hoping one of you
will come up
with some answers
while the blank walls
fill with sunlight
like a clean slate
for the battered thoughts
you keep in paint cans.
For A Peek

gathered at windows
for a peek
at the indoor life
backs turned
to the great beyond
and their owning
of it all.
Home By Dawn

On a
champagne low
and candy cane
our sugared feet
beat the dew
while the sun
to unstrap
the day.
Ladders and Stilts

on ladders
and stilts
the harvest
until our hands
buzz with juices
and fuzz.

Was that
a sigh of passion
my love
I only pulled
on one feather.
Inside Where The Puca Can't Go

wouldn't go
to church today
she said
too many birds
in the sky
and a bad moon
the night before
so none could
persuade her
out the door.

I channel my thoughts
edits of love
the circuit
with a smooth-rolling Bic.
Built For Comfort

March sure
into love's
where the machinery
is smooth
and velvet-lined.

Wednesday, April 09, 2014

Rampant on Blue

The crest
of the Weepers Guild
is a box of tissues
and a hot
cup of tea
rampant on a field
of blue.
The Loudest

scream red
the loudest
as if
just stepped
on their feet.
Textbook Biology

Seeking to understand
the inner matter
of dead frogs
students have been
doing research
for decades
in cold school labs
while tadpoles
dream of infinity.

The slender bones
of a forgotten fish
high on a cliff wall
you could once surf
in this desolate
limestone valley.