Posts for June 17, 2024

You could smell the cold
through the closed door–
outside daythick and steamheat–
all stillness and need outside.

Two daddy long-legs succor
the cool, moist air from the door jamb
of my apartment,
their prehistoric bodies
also found in Scottish rock
from over four hundred million years ago,
and right here, too,
the alien wires of their many legs
and heads like spent erasers–

I resist my urge to crumple
their delicate frames away, avert
my eyes at the ghost
the negative of their erect bodies make–

alone, I open that door,
heft the weight of my body
into my apartment’s cool envelope,
into its usual places.

*dedicated to LEX18 and WKYT’S social media pages

It never made sense,

We are a commonwealth 
built on the belief that we
are all part of the common
good; that we are all equal
none more important than 
the rest; I only wish that it 
could truly be that way, not
just in Kentucky, but in our
country; all of us counting 
instead of just the ones who
place themselves in power 
that the common good was
not, really, quite uncommon

sung to the tune of The Wellerman
(there are many recordings, check out Nathan Evans to get the song going in your head)

There once was a boy who knew was he
The strongest pirate there ever would be.
The wind blew in, the sun beat down
But no, this little boy, knows. (huh)  

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
Since one day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go.  

On his bike he’d leave his home
When toward the park he’d always roam
His dada called him on the phone
To say he missed him mo’.  

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
One day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go.

Da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da  

And before the boy could reach the park
Dog Ike-Ike met him with a bark
As Mama ran to meet her mark
And she grabbed him from below.

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
One day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go.

And so now the pirate ship’s been caught
But the pirate’s struggle’s not for naught
This boy listens to what he’s taught
With his dog and bike in tow. 

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
One day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go.

Da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da
Da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da-da  

Only two years old, already is he
The smartest pirate in the whole wide sea.
He swims and kicks and dances for me
And neither leg’s a peg, no!

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
One day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go.

So, back home the boy will race
To dock his ship back in its place
And sing his dad on Father’s Day
The Withenbury pirate shanty!

Soon may this Withenbury come
To bring us kisses and hugs and fun
One day when he’s grown and done
He’ll take his leave and go…

Happy Father’s Day to my brother, Alex,
who is one heck of a dada!

Love, Pirate Ben & Poet Em

Summer heat warms my bones
Fries my skin
And flips me over
For crisping
Just like I like it
Poolside with no sunscreen
Because I live life dangerously
Cold water that soon becomes stale
Chlorine eyes and bright red legs
A walking beet
A cast iron skillet’s butter
On pavement-burnt feet
Jelly plastic lounging chairs
And nachos with peppers

In a Shaker Friends’ Meeting

The things we carry . . .
time,
bags of cement,
estranged family members, loved ones who bring sorrow,
we carry . . .

we carry . . .
jokes,
humor, salve to lighten the load,
hugs, to dissipate the numbing pain,

thoughts like squirrels racing in our heads . . . sometimes they take a nap,
and trees who want to stop us . . . and hold us in a healing embrace,

we carry . . .
hurdles
excess baggage ~ rocks, back breaking boulders on the steepest climb,

forgiveness releases all transgressions, lightens the burden, sets victim and perpetrator free

i am a dancer in the dance
’round and ’round the self criticism prance

i am the witness, the observer, the one who knows she knows
i don’t have to carry any thing
in fact, i can be carried . . .

I scrounge darkness for
poetry only to find
clothes to put away.

Like a car doing 45 over

I feel like everything is going by so fast,

Blurry— blink and it’s gone

My mind never slows down to smell the flowers

I have no time to think

Except I never stop thinking,

I crave a slow, and simple life

As well as an exhilarating one

I love being on the move,

But damn, gas is expensive

My eyes are starting to droop,

I’m unsure of where I’m going

This is exhausting,

Maybe I’ll call a friend

Or supply my caffeine fix

When I finally make it to the couch

To fill my tank up,

I’ll think of everything I haven’t done,

Haven’t seen,

What I should be doing instead

Maybe I’ll just grab my keys,

And go for a drive just to think

barely
barely

i say unto
you & 

you
& you

sometimes i
am afraid

not just for
myself

but for all 
of us

each of us
future trippin’

past stricken
immobile

the hammer is
raised & we

pretend we
do not know

who holds it
instead

we dip
& dodge

we duck &
weave

we run away
& toward

we tell our-
selves

we do what 
we can

right up 
until

we are 
asked

to do
better

                    Untitled

            call it a heat wave,
            moving north from Texas,
            southwest to northeast Kentucky
            or call it a love poem
———–
            the last time we made love
            rushing through my memory
            like water in old seventy creek
            after three days of rain
———-
            or call it a daffodil
            or an indian, colorless flower
            few have ever seen in forest leaves
            but I have seen one
———–
            I dedicate my words
            to that white translucent
            pipelike plant off green three
            at the country club