A summer sun in winter–
life too soon to the Lazarus still life
A summer sun in winter–
life too soon to the Lazarus still life
America’s destiny
stalled in parched oases
stripped, scarred, sacrilegious
As a child I didn’t wear shoes and walked everywhere–
As an adult, I cut my foot on the grass
At the end when we understand–
October wind
Concealed in our bed our sacred utterances–
Frost on the window
Brown string tied to a pressed autumn leaf–
forget-me-not.
close the gates
hoisting the scarecrow
dark autumn
Dreams are egrets–
mysterious, majestic forgotten after flight
He gave me nothing
but to be his child swaddled forever in shame
Love dispels hate–
But neither is truly vanquished
No new possessions will fill the hole
calm raging rivers cure or complete–
breathe and see the road ahead smile
Most souls can’t find
the light they stumble through endless darkness while
holding a flashlight
Morning sun warming in the light–
Stiff fingers
Morning wind stirs the lazy tree–
needs coffee
One persons movement,
Is another annoyance—
She said to no one
responsibilities
responsible ties
response lies
responsibly
respite
respiration
response
As a child
I didn’t wear shoes
and walked everywhere-
As an adult, I cut my foot
on the grass
Concealed in our bed
our sacred utterances—-
Frost on the window
Not speaking
our aimless bodies circling
Drastic yearning lost
As a child I watched
old movies every
Saturday on television,
escaping the summer heat.
I was closer in time
as a child to those actors
than I am now
to the child who watched them.
I watch those movies now and
recall bickering parents,
lemonade, faces and stories
evaporating from our memory.
In the city, surrounded
in the country, lost
everything ~ nothing
Nature and our nature
forever linked
and incompatible
as we struggle;
walking under snow
between buildings
and in open pastures
it beauty is not ours
but we belong to it
forever fighting
I wake up every
day an optimist
my brooding self stays
sleeping in sunlight—
then every day ends
staring beyond the
lamp’s faint light into
the cold dark evening
we let
in the sunlight
to wake us
pacify our morning glares
the books on the shelf
and the edge of our
brown sofa bleached and faded
in the dusty diagonal columns
of light
Clothes on the line in the rain–
clean, yet dirty
terrior
tree
trains
transit
terror
tomorrow
teaser
taught
taunt
treble
tremble
tear
tear
terre
A tiger on my porch
smells the M&Ms in my bag
How long has it been since the trees swayed?
Cicadas deafening
Autumn’s late arrival–
A tardy child running towards the school door
Homeless camp red eyes pale faces–
Gnats buzzing
Into the desert
as every seeker, soldier,
Prophet, refugee
After the show
She said she would
leave with the aliens
on their ship,
after my comment
of wanting to stay
and not missing her.
She said
eventually, we leave
anyway, the people and places,
why not go
on the Great Adventure?
I folder the blanket
and put it in the basket.
“better angels
don’t visit this neighborhood
they ain’t coming by, so
best keep your head down,
besides
the sidewalks ain’t too
good around here, either.”
inner-city man to me as
i gave him my lunch:
sandwich, apple, carrots
Blood and soil
angry attachment
impermanent
Our secrets send us scurrying,
burrowing rats
Turntable blues
spinning analog,
Sunday rain