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Welcome to my poetry page(s). This section is a respository for my poetry (all copyrights belong to me - 2008). For more or different poems you can check out my blog. Or if you'd like to check out the column that I write about American poetry, please go to WordCatalyst.
Titles:
Early evening as the changes of fall approach
Warm days, cool nights, colored leaves, lawns greening
For the last time
Some deck chairs moving inside
Mist rising from the day heated asphalt hits the cool
Dropping air
Maybe a weather front?
I drift like the mist through the walls of the suburban houses
"So what did you learn in school today?"
"Not much."
"I'm not commenting on your cooking, I just don't like
Broccoli."
"And then he said something about the merger."
From table to table and house to house
Snatches of conversations
Building to that silent roar
No one walking the streets with no one on porches
A church meeting for preschoolers with empty seats
Between each parent
But a group standing together in the back
"So I said to him, if you don't want to be involved..."
"No I don't think that Sean should be kept home another
Year"
The individual stands of our lives meeting others
Our individual ropes building the cord of community
But the strands are not tight
And some only twist once and are gone
Yet there is co-mingling of the lives
Twisting in and out of each other
Individual stands are shared more than once
"There are no coincidences in life only plans"
"Yes, we are all going to visit your uncle this weekend"
But in the city...
As I drift through the buildings
There are people alone with each other
Eating in silence or watching for something
Others are in gathering places so that they are not by themselves
The din of a dinner where a waitress is working
Chatting up her people
Not for tips but for company
Slipping knotting each strand to another
Enough strong ties to anchor a ship
As this state is shored
Strands
Starting with spinning atoms at centrifugal force
In molecules making up cells upon cells
Strands of cells twisting
To lives of lives
Each stand could break bringing the organism down
As it stays strong banding with others
Me knowing he knowing she knowing me
Parents, spouses, kids, friends, co-workers...
Birth, communion, first kiss, sip of life, taste of death,
Heartbreak, love, passion, loss, anger, joy, delight,
Loneliness, loans, houses, cars, churches...
Stuff and things
Feelings and objects
Strands making strings
Each string could break cutting off its event
But as we twine these strings together we build a life
Friendships, birthdays, anniversaries, reunions, companions,
Life relationships, bonds of marriage, commitments, loves
A rope is but twine entwined together to build the strong
Bind that bonds
Able to pull the weight of a life with all of its events
Behind it
Strong enough to hold ship to anchor
Strong enough to hold cell to cell
Strong enough to hold atom to atom
Each rope we weave ties us to others
This is not a chain forged in life
But strong ties that bind
As we layer and twist strand within strand
And tie string to string
I am happy with the rope that I own
Sing
Sing with all of your voice
Until your throat is parched and ready to break
Whisper at the waves that break at your feet
And let the sea know that you'll continue
Until there is no more white water
Shout at the wind and let it blow your
Words
Back into your mouths
Let your sight sting with joy
As tree limbs crash down around your feet
Let the arched eyebrow of a lover look at you
Questioning
Your own soul melody mixing with your inner ear
It is something that wants you
Needs you
Like the milky way hurling away at billions of light years
As star stuff links you to all things
More space than solid
Crashing atoms with the self same force
Sing the spinning soul songs
A bird takes flight and rides the waves of the earth
Whispering is louder than shouting
And no pr is worth this weight
Write and feel at the end that you've pored all into its vessel
Worn out from the orgasm of the words
Sucked out to the sea of calm
Singing one last refrain
Done
The earth is moving on
At least the seasons are
I feel and taste the coolness of the late sunrise
I see the air
High above a vapor trail of an morning flight away
Some early yellow leaves litter the road
And blow away in the wake of my motorcycle
I'll need a jacket soon
Another fall of man?
The cicada din is less each day
I rejoice in this turn of a page
The story in the book will go on
I sing the song at the top of my voice
There will be yet a few more notes to add
The dance is not over
A few more steps another twirl
This is not yet the time for reflection
No mirror to hold up at the party
No harvesting of all the ideas
Just time to move on
And wear my jacket for awhile
The coat can still stay in the hall closet
Morning was starless
Dark on the way to the mountain
The only light was from the headlights of my truck
The night sounds fade
I dress for work
Coveralls, gloves in our deep pockets, hard hats, lights,
Some safety gear
Why are there GPS chips in cell phones
But no locater on our helmets
I greet my brothers in darkness
I've lost an uncle and a brother
The mountain has claimed it's own
Its yawning mouth meets us with indifference
We ride L-shaped in low vehicles in and down
Steel and mesh surround us
Thousands of feet below the sunshine
Nothing grows down here but tunnels
As our machines chew their way through the rock to make
Walls
Not much light reflects off of the compressed remains
Of dinosaurs
Will we someday be fuel for another
Black chunks bringing light for the world
Heating up giant turbines
The constant din of
Metal munching machines grind through the
Eternal darkness
The lights on our helmets guide our way
Until we can return to the surface
We're no longer the stooped trolls of underworld
We stand up straight
And ride back out at the end of the shift
Into air, and light, and earth sounds
Until I can see the light shine in my wife's eyes
In the evening
The wind came whispering to me last night
Calling out my name
Huh? I answered slowly
Thinking I'd gone insane
It's time again, it spoke to me
To cut that hair on your head
Mom? I asked
Didn't you get called mam last night
Twice I did, yes
Isn't that enough for you
When you were young it was miss they asked
Well, yeah, but now I'm gray
And statesmen like
Are you still a gender bender
'Tis time to cut your mop and run
No, I think that I'll just grow a
Mustache
(my note: written for the picture: At the Piano by James Whistler)
It was a much simpler time, isn't was always
Mother would play showing me the notes
Hearing them build into a song
The songs were all moral imperatives left from a previous time
All seemed black and white then
Before
Even my dress and my shoes resembled the black and white keys
We had recently returned from church where
Father had spoken on the power of God to condemn
If we did not repent from our sins
Everyone sang the hymns in black and white on the pages
All had shook his hand at the end of the service
And said what a great shepherd of the flock he was
God's word was surely within him
I was happy in Mother's company then
Before
That same hand that the sheep all shook
That
God who was within him
He used that hand, he entered me
My mother just played on
Those times
Before
When mother and I would play at the piano
When all the colors in the paint box were black and white
Are the times that I'd lost and that smile is gone
As well as the notes that she'd played
Before
I met
You
I only thought that you existed in my dream
A gauzy figure like boats out on the watery
Edge
Of the summer morning
Bobbing up and down on a single line of the
Horizon
Shifting in the morning's light
Scaled back and forth in the pale blue sky
As amorphous clouds changed shapes reflected in my eyes
Your reality is much better than the shapes that
Lived in my fuzzy head
I listen and hear your kind
Words
Washing over my once closed ears
Leading me to
Believe
Where once I only asked question after question
I see the strength in your pale eyes
And that conviction on your wet lips
I experience the more in your light laughter
And rise to the touch of your purposeful fingers
Stay a while and chat
Of things that matter to you as I hear from your
Mind
What may become important to me
Touch the space that is between us with in and with out
Pierce that light with your gaze
So that I may lead my self to understand
The ways of flight of the beginning of time and other creatures
that crawl
Spend your time with me so that darkness does not
Come
Or share the darkness that does
But let's at least keep day as long as we can
Today
The thought was there
As sure as the egg was consummated
As sure as the seed was germinated
A bird flew down on the mound of slag
It landed on what it thought was a secure perch
But the bird was mindless in the way of chaos
Its perch was precariously pulled by gravity and
Forces the bird did not understand
The gray flat jagged used piece of slag
Slid
Hitting others as others hit others as others hit
The bird flew off
While the slag heap's side slid down crushing
Itself and surroundings
He knew that he was right
And after the blood of innocents
Who have done nothing but live there
Who have gone to serve there
Who have died the same death
And after the billions that have been sent there
And it's gone into profiteer's pockets
And it's built nothing but an edifice that drips blood
Draining the life of a country as sure as a vampire drains its
victim
When do the trail of tears reach his ears
When will the cries of the lost reach his eyes
After the dance
After the dance
A single stag in a grove of pines dines
on the late summer
Wild grass tops
His retreat is not
Before the moment in time can be set
A wolf attacks from behind
Ripping at his flanks
Chasing him into the waiting pack as he tries to leap
Forward
Two of the pack rip at his throat
As blood rushes out his eyes open wide in that look
The pack rips at his hide
And he dies
Food now for the victors
Food is one thing, blood and billions scores on
Another plane
When will this music of screams cease
Whose madness chews and claws at what mindless
Single thought
Pieces and peace are dichotomies of scale
The voice on the other end of the phone
Was like knives to his soul
An alto-contrary
She use to sound like a concert heard in the distance
Drifting towards you on a summer's eve
She sounded like a screeching harpy
Ready to scratch his heart out and hand to someone
As desert
Her voice use to have hugs dancing from her lips
His baritone was just so much noise
Like a passing car with its base turned up so loud
That it was hard to understand anything but a boom, boom
And she wanted to turn out the lights
He use to use his voice as the melody that reached that
Spot
Where she just wanted to melt into him
His voice use to have hugs dancing from his lips
Each end of the phone towers were dripping with
Hate
Now the sound that was between them was so much
Discord
Where had the music gone?
When did it leave, and now all of the instruments between
Where broken
There would be no sounds of hugs from their cells
There would be no sound of joy
As each receiver was clicked shut
I'm glad that your voice is as sweet as
honeysuckle on an early
Summer's night
Inviting me to drink deep
I hear the smile in the song in your voice breathing possibilities
My ears invite your tune
My thoughts dance to your musings
I feel welcome to listen as part of your world
You were the princess of the known universe
Ponies, bows, the frilly dresses in the black & white photos
What a smile...
And I then I came along, even close onto your birthday
But you let me share the day
Even the cake, however your name always was bigger on the icing
But I never cared, it was cake after all
Then the other monkeys hard on after me
We three were a bundle of noise and activity
You were then our built in babysitter
Not your choice
You handled us with your usual teenage aplomb
You were kind enough to take me on the magic bus
To the mystical downtown
Where I could buy fantastic books of adventures far from home
You were the high school hero-sweetheart, a leader in the band
The dancer in the headdress with the feathered trail
It was allot to live up to
I never felt that I did and needed to set my own tone
We even later became partners of such and so
It got away from both of us, we traveled a far piece from our
homes
The divide was wide for long while
And the bridges seemed rickety at first
But were steeled later to our surprise and delight
Your smile and laugh still lite the stars
And your words are as welcome as your presence
I'm better for you being here
And I know the road was rough for you
Daughters and husbands and lovers that were trials of fire
And pain
Always a question of doing and the path of how
The best you do is the best you can
There is no more, no less
I drank deeply from the dream in your eyes
As I danced in a moonless night with your soul
The music played at the edge of our ears, soft and slow
Like a pale remembrance lost in a lake
I knew the tune once
On a still summer's night watching with weighted bliss
The dance lasted longer than the music
That night
We just kept pressing our selves to our souls
Neither led nor followed
Each understanding the other's silent steps
As our atoms spun in time
Electrons mingling fussing about space
As we toured the galaxies within
I drank deeply from the dream in your eyes
As we continued on to the tuneless dance
We drank deeply from the soul of ourselves
As we nourished each other from wells deep set
And weren't satisfied with just that single sip
Our thirsts seemed unquenchable as we held each other
Locked together in the dance
Waiting for a shadow of the sun to start burning
But hoping dawn would not arrive on the edge
Of our thoughts
Gravity pulling us towards the center of the other
Knowing for a short time
One another's cells
I drank deeply from the dream in your eyes
Until it was a dream no more
It was a muggy late summer's eve
When even the trees were tired of the summer heat
And were ready to change their green for colors
The white haired couple sat on the peeling bench
His hand covering hers as they chatted
A boy was having a catch with his mother
As the man gently pushed their daughter on the swing
Another father pushed his small child in the striped stroller
Along the hard dirt beaten path
He reached and touched her hand
And grasped it as she turned towards him
She didn't grasp back
But smiled as she tilted her head down
"Do you think that we'll be like them, someday?"
As the low hum of traffic passed somewhere by
"Which ones?"
"All of them, at one time or another"
She took in the park with one sweep of her eyes
"It would seem as though that would be nice"
He waited to ask the next question
That hung between them as thick as the air
(my note: this poem will be in the April issue of Quill & Parchment)
I sing for the dichotomy of Robert Frost
The new englander born in San Francisco
Hard pressed as a young man to make a grade.
He walked the snowy woods listening
To apple blossoms bloom.
His fame yet gained o'er sea first made.
His stony stoicism tilled the hard ground
Of cold fields lined by rock walls
Making good neighbors laud his praise.
Tempered by his grace and wit
He sown his children before his time
On a road taken with success in learning.
Great teacher of our souls to sing,
What attics hide our worse fears of bones?
What button boxes keep our stories?
He tried to stay the course and point ourselves
And talk of how man does to women
With dirt to flower stains each their own.
He left his talking in his words,
Can't we hear what each is saying?
When others went west to find the answers
Robert saw the truth beneath the rocky soil
Of his beloved northeastern roots
Shine on this glint of understanding what
We are to each. Reach past the path and live a life
For though life is both toil and trouble
Celebrate not just its passing
But your time that comes as it does pass.
I see your eyes reflected in the morning
sky
As I sit on the porch
I see the golden glint of your hair reflected in the tanned grasses
Of coming fall
I hear your voice whispered in the breeze
And feel your soft touch in anxious winds
I look for you on the streets that are crowded with noise
You've disappeared into the shadows
That dance in my daydreams
I'm sorry that I can not longer hold you
I gave that right up
I sit and send wishes out through the open wound in the sky
Maybe one day I'll heal
May be one day I'll move along because there's nothing here
To see
Today's not that day
"Better to have loved and lost than ... "
There's another sunrise tomorrow
And maybe the sky will be overcast
To hide these colors striking my eyes
Like knives
Remember when mail was free in unlocked
open boxes?
Ack, here he goes again
A hawk, full-winged, tucked talons, eye staring, rides the thermals
Gliding pirouettes like a ballet dancer's leap mid-air split
Grabbing air and holding it until
The hawk call shreek to unnerve his prey
Staring at the ground for any movement, open eyed
The wide-eyed mouse twitches holding its own
Until the hawk scream
It darts for a hole in the ground
Tucked wings now falling through the air with no resistance
And the violence at the end of the fall
Last second talons grabbing prey wings grabbing air
The mouse's essence is released into the sky
With each powerful wing beat
The hawk has a snack and will soon search again
I wait to hear the wing/hoof beats and then it's too late
Bok antelope licks the water with ears
to the air
When the herd darts off it wants to be in the middle and not
the back
Ears stuck as high as they could go
The cheetah barely rippling muscles moves through the tall grasses
One cautious paw in front of the other
Bok heads jerk up nervous feet moving
Blur the races as the cheetah and Bok seem to be in mid-air
Front paws spread out claws extended in its leap to the back
of the Bok
The cheetah tears the back haunches of the Bok
Blood flowing down the legs as the cheetah's mouth turns red
The Bok gives a last kick before its end
Violence or in their nature - the scorpion knows
I sing a song for Bobby boy
Which one of you do we think that we know
A young man creating a self in Minnesota singing Woody songs
Rhyming his way to stages in NYC
Finding his protest voice in winds of change
When the US tried to restart itself led by babes in genes
Changing times blew in changing rhymes
Turn the electric on and play it loud
We didn't hear you the first time
Quick shovel dirt on Masters of War and quit the Maggie's farm
Iconic hair and the spotlight was bright
It's alright Ma he's only bleeding
The charge was set, the time arise
Slamming motorcycles and hiding back with the band in a basement
Singing songs of baseball pitchers and outlaws
Laying ladies in Nashville
A fury past, the ins and outs and ups and downs
Have another cup of coffee as Isis ascends
Huge stages grow small as his voice grows gruff
But the words, oh the words
Idiot winds releasing blood on her tracks in leopard pill box
hats
Releasing everything broken on political worlds
He's still alias just alias
With his modern times singing working man's blues
When poetry sings it sounds like the mountain's alive
As the sun whispers shouts of glee
That jester's still in the glazed gleam of his eye
He waits alone in his house
top
Another personal news year is almost here
Turn the page, clear the slate, cue the song, sing along
When I get out of bed I sound like a bowl of Rice Crispies
And my eyes focus like through the milk
But at least, so far, I have gotten up
And I'm not dead yet...
Muse along and follow the bouncing ball
Bounding down the hall and out the door
Bring me soda, ahhh my kingdom for a cold one
I only wish it were a hot one
If only I could keep my feet underneath me
I would dance a jig and greet my diddle diddle with a hi
I don't want any of it back
But I would like my back to be straight again
Ah but to be straight is another question that alludes
Some of the king's men
"Better to be silent than to be thought a fool"
I wish that I had enough breath to blow out all the candles at
once
Song
to Walt Whitman
(my note: this poem
is included in an article on WordCatalyst)
I sing to Walt's inclusive humanity
I see Walt venturing forth each day and becoming
Teaching in poor lit chalk dust air classrooms, woodworking callus'd
hands cover'd with sawdust,
Building framed houses on Long Island
Writing newspaper articles, gulping nightlife, breathing in late-night
carousing New York City,
Writing, publishing, re-inventing ink stain'd new dandy self,
Moving poetry door-to-door, singing songs of the new rough and
tumble Adam
Lifting all of America on his rugged shoulders, showing us the
world of butteflies
Heading to the "west" to cover stories and creating
himself as he went along
Tending the wounded and loving his brothers and men in Washington
City
Hating war, but caring for the warriors, singing of lost captains
Finding new loves, fighting his fights for his dignity and his
songs
Saying goodbyes
Editing, revising, and still singing of bodies electric, moving
mountains
Concluding thoughts for generations to sing
Balancing loves and riding final ferry trips to Philadelphia,
the city of brotherly love
Becoming the fine old Walt like wine that's been uncask'd
Hiding behind the good old gray poet's image even stroked out
as the twinkle of his eyes
Belying his force of nature, using Twain's carriage to race around
Camden
Foaming his horses, scattering people out of his way
Singing his way for over 80 years, going forth as a child would
Becoming what he saw, shouting its praises to the heavens, offering
us a taste of it
Eating life whole, working with his hands in the dirt of our
existence
I sing this song to Walt who taught me
to be, to see, to do
Shout with me this chorus of living each moment for itself and
of itself
Of facing life and enjoying it, of knowing love and loving it,
of being a body in motion and moving it
Of becoming what you are and being it
Each moment alive, and reveling in it
I awake slowly and open my eyelids and can't believe that you
are
Sleeping there besides me
Hair damp from the summer heat
Surrounds your face like petals of an exotic flower
Hiding the mystery of scent from a bee searching for pollen
Last night you took me to places that I had only
Dreamed existed
Our cells connecting passing love through osmosis
Into the realm of deep knowing
Past intelligence
Past the third star on the left
You opened a world of kindness and acceptance
I tasted your salts and felt your smooth skin
Feeling its glow on my fingertips
As we lay together our eyes had focused on depths
Within and on worlds of atoms without
The facets of your gem shone in colors beyond my silly little
Comprehension
This morning's sweet memories of time
Call for more than coffee
On a table was a drink whose ice cubes were a distant
Memory
On a counter were empty pill containers
The body sat in a chair like he was expecting company
Except that his tee-shirt which was usually loose
Was tight on his torso
A syringe stood straight out between his toes
The coroner who'd been called
Stated that the body had been out of rigor for some time
A fan was running to air out the room
But there was no whistling of the wind in his ear
The two who were there were making little clicking sounds
With their tongues
And shaking their heads back and forth
He was no Rich Cory
They looked for a note that wasn't there
He'd left no rhyme, he'd long pasted reason
There'd been no 12 steps
Just the last leap
He had no tomorrow's left
He sat on the once bright industrial green bench
Now worn to a dulled existence
The bench's boards swollen into their chipped concrete holders
He spread out the stale popcorn in front of him
For the pigeons to peck
Their heads darting side-to-side looking for imagined predators
When he dressed in his suit and walked with his oldest friends
Words would no longer form in his head
About whiskey, war, and women
He didn't drink
He didn't fight
He didn't love
There was no use in telling the tales of youthful fulfillment
The stories were still there
Of nights spent swilling and singing
Of battles of fallen heroes and bodies blown asunder
Of women bought and bedded for moments or years
All of that lived in its own time
He needed new stories that would leap from his tongue
And sing from his eyes while he wove his own music
Into a tapestry of now
Ah, the bag was empty
Time to leave the park
I would love to be the tall angular man striding on the
Craggy precipice
Holding my people back until I've peered ahead for their safety
Passing an outstretched strong hand over the yet
Unconquered lands
But I am a short jester in a fools cap
In someone else's skin that fits like a cheap suit
Wearing a clown's costume
I whisper into a dark night instead of shouting at the wind
As strong men do
I awake weeping at some frightful dream
Rather than striding from a sleeping place in command of the
Morning
No one hears my muffled whimperings
I do not voice opinions with convictions or bark orders for others
To follow
My obit will be two lines:
He lived
He died
There will be no pictures from my youth of a strong jawed player
Planting a flag, winning the day, tales from teary-eyed remorseful
Mourners
Those who have written their mark on future
With descendants and stories of their human dignity and
Achievements
When memory ceases of the few who thought that they knew me
Are gone
So will I be
The storm clouds that had gathered at his
hairline
Parted
And gave way to the sunshine of his black eyes
He smiled from his ears
What drum beats came from his depths that made
The tic about his mouth worse?
His nose sat on his face like a disinterested survivor
Soon he would speak and others who drifted in and out
Of their time lost
Would listen
Not fire, not brimstone, no fear and retribution
That time had been
The dry cracked lips belying his solid message
Parted
As the second hand sweeps away the moments that were
He would move the "others" to reach
Something beyond their grasp?
Everything within our fingers
She was like a hot hale storm, short and intense
Destructive
But they fell in love anyway
He knew the risk
In the mornings her pale green eyes betrayed their fire
He was as drifty as a winter puffy-snow shower
But they fell in love anyway
She thought that she knew
In the mornings his dark black eyes hid the blowing snow
She burned through him like a lit cigarette that had
Lost most of its tobacco
He drifted away
She raided another's town
Came up out of sleep almost laughing
Something at the end of the last dream must have been amusing
Couldn't remember what
Looked over and saw his new wife, his bed mate, the first ever
And she was coiled like a small kitten dozing in the sunlight
However, the bedroom was gray even though he could see the bright
Sunshine just around the edges of the dark shades that they had
bought
She smelled like warm apple cider on the first day of autumn
After school
He slipped out of bed and using his hands made his way to the
bathroom
It was already warm and he saw his pours glisten with the early
oils
Before he washed
After splashing his face he caught the image of his mother's
face
Staring him back from the dim reflection in the mirror
What would she council?
As he made his way back to the bedroom, he could see
Last night's argument
Hanging in the air as stale as last night's breath
She moved and sat up without focusing
He said he was sorry and that the day should start out better
Than yesterday ended
She smiled
It was going to be a good day
I sit on my porch absently looking off
to no point over the tree tops
The window is open but there is no human communications
Listen for the phone that will not ring
Wait on company that doesn't come
And the voices that do are unwelcomed whispers from some cold
night
Breathe hot humid stagnant summer air that hangs
In front of me like ghosts from mistakes past
No need to obsess over deeds done but like the scorpion it's
in my nature
There's squashed bug guts on my lounge chair
Try not to get it on my arm
Madness is creeping up my pants like late summer crab grass
Invading the lawn
A bright red cardinal swoops by on its way to...
What other creature fights insanity and stares off into clear
space?
Need to shower and soap away these feelings
That bottle of pills yells out "harry" from the kitchen
And it's more than just my name on the label
Frozen on a hot summer's morn, that's as much sense as it makes
I know that if I can just make it to tomorrow I'll be better
But, there's so much of today left
Stars fading dawn in a crystal clear cloudless
blue
The raptor cocked its head unblinkingly searching the ground
Coldly
Eying prey
Shutter speed fast, only a camera could catch
Stabs at the ground and swallows its food whole
Life is in disjointed moments strung together by knotted thread
When our time is done will we end up as a robin
Feeding on worms
That feed on the flesh of the was
Our personal histories only visible in light
In stands of dna left with no memory of our selves
Aaah,
Better get another beer,
This one is warm
top
The air hangs visibly heavy with moisture
over the ocean
A loud clap of thunder woke me from sleep on the porch
The heavens were angry in the distance, but heading for me
Lightening dances from the low clouds to the water
Like a gun slinger drawing and firing, crack, a single motion
Almost faster than the eye can see
Where the sea met the sky, lit up in ghostly grays
Wind blows the water against the sand
And it foams like a rabid dog
I sat up on my lounge chair and watched the storm blow in
Waiting for the wall of water from the clouds to drench the coast
The only resolution would be for the sky to rain itself out
The low-hung gray masses had spider vines dancing to a
Booming rhythm
While the rain blew sideways as it beat against the waves
Whipped by the wind
The crashing sound grew nearer
Until a bolt blew up the pole on the edge of the sea
And the rain blew at the house and began to make
Me wet
The fighting had been fierce last night
And he would have preferred that it'd been with his wife
One of the kids took a bullet and didn't fair so well
The kid stood up to shoot and before he could grab him down
The kid fell back and became just a body in a pile of gear
There'd be a knock on his parent's door soon
And another plane ride to Dover
The sky was lightning up
He could see outlines in better detail
Like darkened ghosts rising out of the distance
Soon he'd be able to get some sleep
Then there'd be the heat
And distances would shimmer like the light coming off of the
lake
No dew in the desert
The only water in the air was sweat
He heard the slight hiss of shifting sand
In the ever so quiet wind
He could tell the difference between a step and the whisper of
wind
Soon, one of his men would watch the sand, and listen
If this was not far from the cradle of civilization
He hoped that he wouldn't see its end
The sun topped over the sand and lit up the desert
And the sky turned blood red, burning
Cloudless, nothing to reflect its glow
He'd passed another night
There was nothing as far as he could see
It would be a good day
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I feel the gentle evening breeze kissing
my cheek
As I sit with my thoughts of -
I hear the night song of birds nesting, resting
The kiss of the summer's breath on my late autumn's brow
I am running out of months while the year is but half its time
I already feel the winter's cold
Eventhough the June bugs take to flight each night
Wait a minute this isn't going well at all, try again,
I see children running and playing with abandon
My brothers and I are loose in the my summer's day
Running in and out of the shade, our bare feet slap against the
grass
I run as the sun touches us through the dappled sun/shade of
the trees
And the grass waves leaf up/leaf down as we run past
The sun lightens our hair as it darkens our skin
I hear my brothers' laughter and join in as we giggle about -
This is much better and old Walt would be pleased, just put in
a phase about
becoming what you see and it would be better,
I enjoy the summer's late sunset beyond the trees
The sky's colours of red and orange encourage me
I revel in life and delight in each day
Thank you
Time was when I knew time that was
Now I just jumble it up in ways that even amaze me
Time was should be still time is
This moment is all the time that is
Lewis Black says we're all like snowflakes
Moments are like that too
It's nice to laugh when the sun is high and for no reason
It's nice to have time as a co-conspirator
Playing jokes on each other in moments of delight
There is no time that I'm ahead or behind
The time is only now
Thanks
When I woke this morning, much too early,
I recalled being whip thin and rebarb strong
My convictions were strong and right always
I knew the way and I was tormented by those who didn't
Long ago in a youthful life
Now my steel is rusted and frayed like old fabric
And I know how much I do not know
But, unlike then, I take delight in each sunrise
And smile at each moon set
I love the life I have now
And I could not say that long ago
I would not have admitted that there was a reason
To love the life of each day
And feel the presence of the truth of God
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Memorial
Day
I knew you as a youth
We were all younger then and in our way immortal
I knew the life in your eyes and saw the things that you saw
We grew together and created our own stories and myths
I saw you go into the service as a child and visit as a man
We shared the night before you shipped out
Sitting in the bleachers of our High School
Laughing as children over our tales of adventure
When I saw your name in the paper as MIA
I prayed you'd be found
When you were found, I prayed it was someone else
As I place the flag on your grave again
I realize how much life you've missed, again
And I still miss you
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