deterioration is
the bask of good sleep
every three years
yielded to a
tyranny of energy
with no space
outlet
person
purpose
we wake rested, thankful for a moment,
nerves finally calmed
then, the terror at having good energy without a container to put it in
before ATP e v a p o r a t e s
as the last canna lily finally blooms
beyond rickety storm door window
while we collapse
They’ve got the range
Find them witty find them woeful
Find them haughty find them humble
See their words precise, incanting
See them falling in a tumble
Hear them scream like crows in flight
High away from any land
Listen to their quiet whispers
How they shift like desert sands
Ponder on their wilds and windows
On their war and on their peace
Imagining gore, red or bloodless
Or spring’s fluffy, baby geese
Poets expounding on their city
The campus streets aflush with cars
The gingko trees, historic buildings
And pasts that brought us where we are
but a commonwealth transplant
with no knowledge of brackets from birth.
My “bury” rhymes with “furry” not with “ferry”
and my “Versailles” now counts five consonants.
I’ve spent Ale-8-One* or two trying to wrap
my mind around a trifecta and the fact
that I have “state”-mates living on the Mississippi.
But I am from LexPoMo, where poetry
is throned and stanzas stride in greatest
honesty—melody and wisdom treasured
like a magic pen. In June, who wouldn’t choose
to muse and fuse in centos
to count the syllables and stresses
to free the Cowboy from his sentence?
Alas, these thirty days will end before
we’ve said it all, and I’ll go back
to where my voice stands out,
wait there these long eleven months
till we sing again. Together.
* A Late One
hope is not at the end of the road
it’s sprinkled along the way
the truth is the road never truly ends
it veers right, left, around trees, over mountains
this spring I drove through a tunnel, came out the other side to sunlight
I have arrived at the ocean, stayed a while, then turned back
the highway taking me home
where to next is the only question
Sunday night I got lost behind the stage
curtain after delivering my 5 poems
at O’Donnell auditorium for my MFA
Emerging Writer Award for poetry
the ramp was a maze, couldn’t find
my way back to my seat
where my daughter and friends
worried, Where’s Linda?
Finally found a corridor to front
of auditorium, rolling up front
to my seat, not disturbing other
readers and audience.
Now the LexPoMO curtain
is also drawn! Adios!
* I don’t get to as many people as I used to but Lexington
Poetry Month is one of the highlights of my year. See you
next year. May you always bask in poetry dust!
A Catlettsburg, KY preacher named Paul,
an unconventional dude who stood 7ft. tall
dressed subfusc,
smelled of musk,
but that didn’t stop him from having a ball.
His love decends
Life truly begins
Forgiveness of sin
Changed from within
The greatest gift from the greatest friend
We’ll ever know
Free to accept
Receive or reject
Nuture or neglect
Let go or to let
Discard or collect
The greatest love ever shown
