light in the eye transforms:
particle and wave fractured
into color, parsed into contour,
interpolated into movement
billions of data points selected
or discarded to create
patterns that give the riotous world
an appearance of order
in the cloister
of the world
silence
the only appropriate
language to name
anything holy
which is everything
Gentle reader
We almost certainly
disagree
On almost everything
That doesn’t matter
Powerless outrage exhausting
Consumption of rage costly
Providers profiting intemperately
Simply review
Old songs by the Who
Them ol’ US Blues
Heron was wrong
This manufactured revolution will be televised
Sponsored by Starbucks
(unlimited commercial interruptions)
for the past
some-odd years
i have lived
in a world
full of
of “no”.
i say it
i live it
i breathe it.
i am it.
i’ve always been
so keenly
and strongly
aware
of my mortality.
and everyone else’s
even more.
for the past
some-odd years
i’ve teetered
right on that edge.
the
last
death
blow.
the last two
death
saving
throws.
i’d really love to have
somewhere else
to place the blame.
but
we don’t say,
“no” here.
instead, try
“yes, and…”
This Morning
Before I write a poem,
I walk outside,
seeking the coolness
that refreshes me.
That damned stray cat
that sleeps on top
of my car,
negates the dew
on grass and windshield
until morning is no longer
the blanket of calm
I had hoped for.
The cat sees me
and jumps off the Miata 5,
Grand Touring,
bolting down the street,
as my father would say,
like a bat out of hell,
as he would have
described its exit.
I mean, really cat,
what must I do
to keep you off
the ragtop?
I won’t go to
the dog pound
and rescue a mutt
to solve this problem
of you.
I won’t fence the yard.
I go back inside
to get my car keys.
I have made up
my mind.
I don’t care
if car covers are
on sale or not,
I’m buying one.
Tick, tick, tick, then silence.
Then again, tick, tick, tick.
The air moves to cool, to soothe.
Tick, tick, tick rattles the quiet.
A thousand miles away memory
Does not allow time’s destruction.
A door knob worn past use,
Blinds cord frayed to threads,
Sheltering palm blown away.
Mind’s eye does not age one’s delights.
Mirror with your new/old crack
Why don’t you follow suit?
we stand together
backs to the light
casting long shadows
into a green sea
her ears perk
straining to hear
the cries of canines
lost in the night
”what do they say?”
she gazes up at me
eyes pinprick stars in a coat of ink
”they wish their litters
goodnight”
Forever tomorrow will extend,
This day we have then taken by the wind.
For in the minutes turned hours
Eternity must reside.
Here by your side,
I look into your eyes
Sliding your hand into mine.
For the journey we embarked
for then what love knew
you were the one.
For every adventure we take
For every possible mistake
For days turn old
I find in us
Love and Happiness
Forever to hold.
billy never said much,
except with his eyes
and his hands.
i don’t recall him
ever
saying
that he loved me.
but i knew,
and i know,
that he did.
billy was a good fisherman
and knew the best spots.
i loved to sit among the rocks,
watching him stand,
still as an oak tree,
waiting for a bite.
he kissed me often
and always smiled
as he pulled his lips
from mine.
billy never made much money
and had no fancy degrees,
but he knew
how to love
a woman
and how to live
life in the heat of the midday sun.
i wish i could see him again–
just once more
would mean so much.
how many years ago
it was
the last time i saw billy.
how many transits of the moon
across my bed.
how many times i reached out
for him,
as i awoke from pleasant dreams.
is anyone really ever gone.
anyone who mattered.
even if the years
were to steal away
every memory
of billy
would he not
remain
inside my flesh,
where the real me
remains
always hidden.
two birds circling down
from heavy skies,
seeking a soft place
to land and shelter
from the gathering night.
