March 29, 2017
“You know it never has been easy
Whether you do or do not resign
Whether you travel the breadth of extremities
Or stick to some straight line…
In the church they light the candles
And the wax rolls down like tears
There is the hope and hopelessness
I’ve witnessed all these years.”
-Joni Mitchell, from “Hejira”
STORM WINDOWS IN SOUTHWEST FLORIDA
In this small part of the planet
Nobody stores storm windows,
Though probably, storms away won’t
Muster much more blow
Than in this small part of the planet.
TWO ALARMS ( Impatient On All )
Is or isn’t it odd
that the gods have their own take
on what all gets the go ahead
and all just what must wait?
I was brought up to believe in
That All’s “seen through” for some reason./
All would happen ”as it should”/
But What when intuition warns it’s all gone wrong,
and it’s all gone wrong all day?
When two alarms should’ve gone off when rising?
When once again you wince & wait on your own way?
February 23, 2017
February 6, 2017
When we get a might old & quite daft/
We better wear sweaters as we waffle whether there’s a cold air night draft/
When we don’t remember/ all the holidays in september/
When we won’t remember/ When the hearth needs more timber/
We’d do windows wide open mornings/ & doors too snow storming/
Fruit left last long past their sweet-point/
Just short of when vermin/ just cavort into the joint/
We’ll start to tell our dreams, last night/
It’s a cinch/ we’ll end on that rain-drenched island, right?/
We’ll toss & turn on real green moss/
& you can barely feel we’re wearing wet white/
On a hunch/ Our punchlines/ Without fail/ Will get filled in/
On a promise/ Our premises will trail off & off & off again/
We’ll lose the car keys of sensibility/
We’ll lose some to the dark scenes of seniority
We will never forget to never let go
August 16, 2016
When the carousel comes to where…
When the maelstrom makes certain turns to…
“This is where I came in!”
I’ll quip, and wink, and break up the fourth wall
I’ll step off, & start off, forcing a freefall,
& any form of free I will welcome.
If I find my feet I can become
A pilgrim on path,
A pilgrim back filling his path.
July 10, 2016
“Just be quiet and sit down/The reason is you are drunk/And this is the edge of the roof” -RUMI
“…And be prepared to bleed” -Joni Mitchell, from “I Could Drink A Case Of You”
They spin me ’round one time, two
At three, they scattered then, their laughter
Left with them, leaving me to
To something that may matter
There’s Ibis outside, on my back lawn, my rain.
And I have
To photograph them there,
Then, stage the image at DeviantArt or Flickr,
Where some drummer will steal it
(good eye & hand talent, w/the accent on eye)
Then, those Ibis will be re-staged
On their “releasable” CD cover,
Or maybe on his big bass drum.
Maybe if I was loaded or dumb
I’d upload it to Facebook
So high school “friends” (we kept it mum)
May be bored enough snoops…
They’ll see my birds,
Then back, Away. Poof
I’ll snoop myself/ Craigslist for free
“Missed Connections” is the only place
To see who’ve noticed your face
And wanted you, destinyly.
September 17, 2015
I guess I’ll go slow
To better spot
My placid place
Destiny’s tiny dot
Must not allow the powers that better be not
They’re sure to supersede
at Their break-neck speed
Some other man wants
I’ll take mine in
(in unmarked 10s & 20s)
February 2, 2012
.Both are convinced
that a sudden surge of emotion bound
Beautiful is such a certainty,
but uncertainty is more beautiful.
earlier, they suppose that
nothing was happening between them.
What of the streets, stairways and
where they could have passed each other
whether they remember– perhaps in a
ever being face to face?
an “excuse me” in a crowd
or a voice “wrong number” in the receiver.
But I know their answer:
no, they don’t remember.
to learn that for a long time
chance had been playing with them.
to transform into fate for them
it approached them, then backed off,
stood in their way
and, suppressing a giggle,
jumped to the side.
There were signs, signals:
but what of it if they were illegible.
Perhaps three years ago,
or last Tuesday
did a certain leaflet fly
from shoulder to shoulder?
There was something lost and picked up.
Who knows but what it was a ball
in the bushes of childhood.
There were doorknobs and bells
on which earlier
touch piled on touch.
Bags beside each other in the luggage room.
Perhaps they had the same dream on a certain night,
suddenly erased after waking.
is but a continuation,
and the book of events
is never more than half open.
.(this poem inspired a brilliant cinematic ruby,
Kieslowski’s “RED” )