.                   i)

M  U  C  H

often it’s uncertain   to see,

to see the true things through,

but certainly sometime’s there’s time

when surely much of what’s new

when noticed might matter

to you or rather

to  me

.

.                    ii)

.

D  U  E

I fear I forget that the frail,

nearly unable, but

when a whisper of   Will…

when they muster an incalculable

measure of  reach

to straighten, and lean up

for what’s due.

That’s alot to wait for

.

The Freshest thing in the clearing

by the pond’s sunk boat,

near a nest,  There’s this ringing

drop, possibly  just now  dotting

one leaf,  left  just new

by all the dew

That’s what I wait for

.

.

.

.

.

(from 9 years back)

DOUBLE O

February 13, 2017

 

 

Here’s   far from hardly   a chink in his ardor

His duplicitness

Is  super  obvious

To himself  most of all

A double agent  deepbreathing quiet

So dominoes don’t fall.

.

Here’s   far from hardly   a mark on his honor

His cowardice

He can cover  less & less

From  himself  least of all

Bravery he saves  to muster love enough

To face away  nothing ,  to  praise   all..

 

 

 

 

 

(6 yrs back)

 

 

Sure,  I’m  shopworn,

Tattered (as if it mattered)

And torn.

Surely, torn;

I don’t decide if I’m just too tired  or

I won’t give any/ to the torture

I won’t give up/

On/To  torture.

It’s nearly the nerve pills,

And endless,useless stolen coffee sleeplessnesses

Or I’ve faced my fill.

.

.

.

.

.                                          (from 5 yrs back, & here after 3am)

S T R I V E

December 29, 2015

If you’re about bottomed out,

How may you make & design

That   O.K.  sign?

Y’know, the one where you go

Finger & thumb, real dumb, like an O,

If the three remaining members lift

Like three tea sipping members of royalty, as if

Three members’d consider an invite

Out to a bottomed out..not a bit elite…

Stride  away  of  O.K.

OF FINAL NIGHTS

November 20, 2015

 

 

The taste of the spray,

Back splayed against the lighthouse wall,

Is saltier/ The roar of  final nights

Saddled on sea wall gusts

Is Fiercer/ When strength one requires

To withstand and understand  such threats

Is steadier/ The beacon’s cliff path

Is grounds for  light/

.

.

.

.

.

(from 2011)

 

Closed Parties

August 25, 2015

He goes to closed parties.

He knows no one.  No one knows.

There his thoughts wear way too many clothes.

.

His  anger  is  lock-boxed.

He’s a danger only to his own clocks.

.

May

His constant, sustaining strength

To strain out  stenches

Stay

May  his consequences  fall, then (when they may)

May his  changes  happen.

Amend

My Lot

June 16, 2014

 

 

 

 

Right away I’ve forgiven
Right What I’ve been given.
I might say I’ll take it
What I might now have.

I’ve taken my lot, my vacant lot.
I’ll water down the ardent growths

That break through spots, my weakest spots.
I’ll wander down the advent of loss, still.
I’ll instill my  wander  with intent.

.

.

.

.                                                 (from 2009)

A SINGLE SIGNALLING

May 19, 2014

 

 

 

I and It may not be monstertruck obvious

But like a catspurr can spur you through a thunderstorm

Or a night, Or origami maybe might

Amaze you in new ways for focus, and sight–

                                       .

A single signalling;

A child of eleven

On a church swing

Offers  “You’re funny”,

I’ll take it  as honey

On manna from heaven.

                                       .

The world’s love’s not worth leaving, all in all.

Mine’s a frontline free for all an’

It’s  Mercy  itself  inside all this breathing.

An air strike has been called in

And tear gas’  got me weeping.

                                      .

Same as a mammoth

Dropping to his knees

(I’ve seen it from my cave),

Or,  a sweet whale sweating and letting go

Off the side of his seas,

Too far off from saving wave,

Or, one wheelchair child really feeling

Enough in him, not his flesh,

To reach  especially  hard

To a high gardenia.

 

 

OPENING CEREMONIES

January 23, 2014

Arcing up by the bed’s edge
Waking up, Adjust my eyes
Wipe up dreamy shards
For this world seemingly happens more hard
Force my fist Up for the games
Another brother
Our own heads down
Hardly, then,
It was outrageous
Heartily now
It is gracious
Head down
Good enough my chest is all stuffed full w/blood &

Good tough

 

1968 Olympics Black Power salute, by John Dominis ?Time Inc

S T E P S

January 3, 2012

Thus a thousand exodus sagas start this way–

With sand within a burning wind,

And the next turn  bends

To a  new way  (though an ancient way)

To where the stars won’t lighten,

To where, because of the bluster, it’s  lookless,

To  not unlikely ends.

.

The sky is kinder,

The East kind of peels back dark veils.

Stars, just bright, One  must/might  Order one’s day,

One praises one’s rest,  musters resolve,

Sits up, Stands up  to new winds, one cruel sun, &

Starts  determined, destined  steps.