What, me a worry???

Click on the Ads!

I need the money!!!

Wednesday, May 11, 2016

White Swan



As I pull my way onto the bridge
a swan flies across and over it
something I have seen before
once, somewhere in a scattered past

Now she’s back
her neck craned
and huge wings
beating hard

She seems as if she’s soaring
relative to my misdirected path
making a mockery
of my transition

Colors are ceded to youth,
nests, to their season,
while pathways
are borrowed from the sky

They pierce the fringes
of the soul
and then
depart.




Friday, April 15, 2016

Empty Spoons



The driver sat down by the edge of the water,
spoon in hand, pondering what flavors life
had left to offer

Bored with blue, the fool stood up and waved his spoon,
unaware of his own melancholy. “Declarations,”
he declared, “Declarations will be made as to what
it takes to suit me!”

The water snake could not hear him from where
it slithered along through the shallows – a turtle slipped
off of its rock only to take a swim

While fish chortled about in schools of leisurely thought,
oblivious to one of theirs which floated, catatonically,
to the surface, as if in tribute

And, off across the way, a fiddler tugged a
sloppy bow across a row of gleaming strings –
“Damn Hippie!” the driver scowled,
“Damn fool!”

Some play their songs with empty spoons,
others stand there, famished,
while the water turns bloody red.

Monday, April 11, 2016

Mending



Pollen wafting flakes in daylight green
clarinet scaling the second floor
bellies torn and stitched
calico cat guarding my feet

Poppies, paper, pink and orange
Percocet doing its best
“You look like a man on vacation,” she said
discomfort rests

Better days have been wasted
isn’t that what we’re here for?
a butterfly beats it into the wind
shorts unsnapped beneath my shirt

Sleep enchants – a luster to the breeze
so much is going on
sitting here, motionless
waiting for the time to heal

So much has come and gone
an old dog barks
“Ah, a hero,” she said
ah, a hero.




Sunday, April 10, 2016

The Statue


Here, within the softness
of the snowfall,
its allure may find me,
catch hold of me,
and gradually freeze my soul
into stone

There is innocence in the eyes,
my hunger almost mistakes it
for snowflakes
as white as the page
that begs to be
despoiled with a pen

I long to let go of
all cause for concern
and allow such hypnotic beauty
to consume me
so that I might soar
past the constrictions
of all things wasted

And land
within a smile,
a dusted white
bone-hard statue,
its thoughts
unknown.






Saturday, April 09, 2016

These Cars



All these cars
are shaped the same -
blobs in the Autumn light

I know how to start
and I know how to end
it’s filling in the middle
that perplexes me

A crayola
a blank page
and lines from my own head

It’s all a great cycle
I tell myself
but I’m stuck with one loop

This may just be
a seasonal slant
rebutting a different
perspective

Every rut
has its down side
and its upside

But then again, tell that
to the rusted, abandoned thing
sitting, running-board deep
in a dried-out swamp

And what do you get?
The thought that bumper
to bumper, it might just be you

The leaves bury these things
centimeter by centimeter
over the years, and yet

Sometimes
in the middle of the night
I roll over
into Spring.




Friday, April 08, 2016

A Curious Little Chain of Events


Sucking flowers
with a vacuum
protruding from
a fish’s mouth
in the very
presence of an
apathetic
ant standing on
a broken golf
tee belonging
to one Theo-
dore A. Klondike,
a curious
soul who put a
name tag on a
golf tee, but not
on his baseball
bat, the one that
he uses to
smash golf tees, fish,
occasional
buckwheat pancakes
but never ants
or sucked flowers.



                        (from a law school class…)





Thursday, April 07, 2016

Mixed Emotions




The sky is mixed
in light and dark
in clouds as wisps
and solid puffs
of white against
which the thinner
ghosts of darkness
contrast and cross

You’re sorting out
your sanity
in particles
that make no sense
that paint themselves
as part of one
big picture that
rips itself apart

Do you hate it
here so very
much that you could
never love me?
The sky screams rain
and sunlight in
scattered layers
across the valley

Whatever card
you hold you drop
down on the floor
but never bend
to pick it up
for fear that it
might complicate
your situation

Look out below
but not above
explanations
reek and wander
like to wonder
like to ask you
where she went to
when she went away

Condense, let go
and, dropping down,
don’t wave goodbye
as if it matters
the waiting’s free
the wonder not
but it’s the chill
that’s bound to kill you.