Thursday, December 16, 2010

cutest couple

big light

through a narrow window,

cutest couple of the week

talking over coffee, one table away,

he, nerdy and handsome,

she, smartly dressed with black vinyl boots



I sit and read about the latest music

in a 2007 Paste magazine,

thinking of how

I sit alone

Thursday, December 2, 2010

courage is not a lion

courage is not a lion…

but a hamster on a wheel,

running in place, never growing bored,

never not sure, one with what it feels,



patiently pecking at sunflower seeds

I've laced with raisins, other things it doesn’t need;

it runs and feeds and poops and runs

and pees and runs and runs then sleeps.



yes, the measure of courage

is not a hugeness of shape

nor beauty and grace

– it’s running in place,



not a roar or strength,

but persistence and faith,

a warm tousle of fur

against a child's face.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

four poems

autumn cold,
I am not as old
as I sometimes feel


in mythic winter,
pink and blue aster bloom
from desert of silence


work is a blessing --
work is all of my messy moments
from past lives
bearing fruit
in present joy


thoughts weave
watery webs,
I fear to pass through,
not wanting to get wet

Monday, November 8, 2010

kasls in the sandh

it's nice to build castles in the sand,

yet the Earth shifts

by frenetic hand, does it not?

the sand, by science,

constantly undermined



we want what we wish,

may, at times, to degrees, accomplish it

but no amount of weeping,

wheedling or wondering why

will bring to fruition “a dream

that wants to die”.



with handkerchief in hand

I walk away from my castles,

let the sea and the wind

and the Earth do its work,

I head for home

to face the grieving

that will clear a space

for the fulfillment

all my striving could not attain.

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

fighting myself

fighting myself,
hardest fight
of my life,
like 8th grade,
when I first wrestled,
which was when I first lost a match,
the sweat, the stink of body odor,
his? mine? no difference, we were like
one being in conflict with itself

fighting myself,
the knock to the bone above the eye,
the lingering, the smarting following
the cold numb of ratcheting pain,
I am out of breath,
I grope, something deep within me
knows the rhythm of death's ocean,
I can't remember my name,
and then,
then the answer surfaces.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Note to Self

I've had enough
of these erudite,
witty word-plays,
idea-games,
tales with twisting tails,
subtle stories with subtler germs of a gist...

just say it.
just say
you either hate this life
or you love it,
in as simple words as you can,

and you can say both at once,
in fact, if you don't,
you're lying,
and you're not a poet,
you're a politician.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Ramble about seeing 2001:space odyssey sequel

I arrived at our storefront church last night with key in hand, armed with chips and honey-roasted peanuts. Made coffee quickly then got on a computer, put on the Phoenix Project's soundboard and speakers and checked e-mail while a U2 youtube video blared and I waited to see if anyone would show up.
I figured I'd be the only one this movie nite. El pastor was out of town @ another church's event and she and one other had been the only ones at last month's movie nite.
I left my e-mail on and popped in the video. I'd seen 2010 before, 20 years ago or so, at my parent's house, the same house I still dream of right before waking about 3 times a month.
I will divulge some here, but not enough of the movie so you won't want to see it. It is based on Arthur C. Clarke's sequel to 2001, and, in a deft way, answers all of the questions that Clarke, or maybe it was just Stanley Kubrick, left so wildly flailing in the space above Jupiter in the space odyssey. (if you haven't seen 2001 -- see it...now!)
I watched the first few minutes, as 2001 was cleverly and clearly summarized. Then I pulled out the peanuts, poured some coffee, and settled into a couch.
A few minutes later, my friend Andy showed up, walking in through the front door with his characteristic entrance -- think Lenny and/or Squiggy from Laverne and Shirley. (or think Kramer, if you like).
It was just the two of us that night.
The movie was seamless. Bright, interesting, sexy with no sex scenes. (did you ever think you'd want to make out with Helen Mirren? Just flashback thirty years or so).
The ending, some might call it corny, b/c as i said, all of the questions are answered. But hell, what good are mysteries if there's no answer? There will be enough mysteries in this life, don't worry.

Monk

Oh, jeez, no entries in April. Someone has been mighty busy -- or just frustrated about his blog (readership). Well, I wanted to put this one out there, even if it's a shout out in outer space, because, I LOVE this (old) poem.




I am a monk
I effort to stay celibate.
I am a Samaritan
I do good deeds.
I go get drunk
because I feel lucky tonight.

I do not know myself


I hang out with my friends
because I want to know warmth and happiness

I say goodbye to my friends
because they don’t live up to my
impeccable moral standards

Truly, I don’t know myself

I scratch my head,
puzzle at the wonder
of who it is I am

I beat the ground
I break the timepiece
I cackle into the night,
“I am mad. I am free.”
But I am neither.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

the new science

time shifts
it's hard to believe
continents drift
is this
where we're going?

are the Florida keys
really to be
consumed by snow,
Haiti, by gold?

the world moves
into the end of the
beginning;
what we once knew for certain
we can no longer accept;
the new science
is hard to believe --
can it really add up
to happiness?

the material world
an illusion
human life
obsolete

we live now
in love alone
and everyone is equally wealthy
with absolutely nothing

Saturday, March 13, 2010

behind every closed door

gravel fills my mouth;
I bide in the great northern lights
of my heart of hearts.

talk of me
is cheap these days;
those who attended my funeral
put on a good show,
but they can't keep from backbiting
in private.

that's alright; I bless them all
from this place of unimaginably sweet light
and ethereal vision
where we breathe wisdom
and spend our days handing out
fountains of love to each other.

I forgive them;
I was a bastard, after all.

and what they're doing is nothing
I didn't do,
with every death,
behind every closed door.

Friday, March 5, 2010

the soft-blue of unlearning

a mobile, overhead, dangles;
a solar system of
soft blue plastic
commanding a trail of angels,
warding off danger,
blessing the head of a small child
with starshine and mercy --

a brother's sling, shot hard and wild,
the rock diverted by the rotating toy...

helpless as a baby,
or so the saying goes,
helpless? -- perhaps and maybe,
but this child seems to know
visions of things sublime,
and a magic in every wonder,

though "well-meaning" people and time
will tear this heaven asunder.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

attunement

song of light
the blazing sun within my heart,
I see all by the light of my eyes,
anything I do not understand,
I must just not understand
and not despise.

the soft light of mother heart,
the searing discernment of father's
the perfect attunement of brother's, sister's, friend's,
we are on different roads, you and I,
both to the same end.

take a flame within your palm,
close upon it, feel it's warmth,
open now and breathe it in
watch your soul renew and spin
a flower in a flower within
a world within a drop
of water suspended finally mended
a life that sits in the still center
of a careening top.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

first contact

having wandered from his mother,
he walks the lobby into the synagogue
and up to the housing
of the Torah.

he pulls on the cabinet door,
stares at the ornate scroll within, laden with silver and bells,
at the embroidered cloth covering.

"BA!" he shouts,
touches the scripture;
the words within the labyrinth
of rolled pages stir.

he pulls at the tassels
and handles,
pulls harder, pulls and falls back on his behind,
and the books of Moses
come clamoring down on his 1-year-old head.

stunned for a moment,
he begins to laugh, giggle,
shriek with delight.

and a strange musical tone,
a choir of millions in one note,
a simple ringing in the right ear
which never will leave him,
which none of a string of physicians
will be able to cure or explain,
will become his companion and solace in loneliness and loss…

and beginning to feel a need inside himself,
he wanders off to find his mother.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

building lights

building floodlights

surreal through

scratched and worn plexiglass transit windows,

emulating stars,

crosses,

underwater spotlights,

the light at the end of the tunnel

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Nefertiti and other mentionables (discipline)

Nefertiti,
the Mistress of Sweetness,
stole
cookies
from her father's
pantry
as a little girl;

Moses was a
compulsive gambler
at age 14;

Gandhi
corrupted all the kids
on the block
with lurid stories from
the Mahabharata...

it is not from
discipline
that discipline springs,
but from devotion
and passion,
from radical turning on
and turning in.

grace of growing things

grace of growing things,
tender and green,
touch my spleen with your
skillful means;

and turn to tongue
my brain undone,
that seeks to speak
yet being meek,
will so long wait
and cogitate
until the truth
has passed my tooth.

Monday, February 8, 2010

pall

pall over land of plenty,
geese soar above hoods
where the county hands out
public housing
like a miser hands out
Christmas bonuses,
draining patience
with paperwork perpetually in transit,
with paper walls,
inefficiently drowning out
sound of gunshots.

Monday, January 18, 2010

like a clenched fist

tower of Babel,
spits out,
spins down
creation
in a fable,
conquistadors,
groping
to hold on to
ill-gotten
power,
we are not understanding,
we are not able,
but somewhere,
spring blooms,
curls of leaves…
opening.

once I thought this was a big deal

I sing to myself
to ache the fill;
I snort song,
then puff it out my mouth
in little clouds.
I, the immaculate.

once I thought this was all a very big deal,
this emptiness,
this pursuit of sustenance,
but it is not;
it is rather common;
it is you
and I
sharing a thought,
each of us
in neighboring apartments,
sitting with our backs
up against the same wall.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Fairy Story (after a George MacDonald story)

The mystery

of longing and need --

the story of a young boy

who kissed a fairy,

she, the beautiful,

light sparkle, gold soul,

raspberry lipped.

She had told him,

"One kiss will

drive you insane."

But what a kiss it was,

the marriage of the sweetest softness,

and the most unbearable burning --

I take the bait,

take the bit,

bite in deep,

rest in it,

and then

find myself

falling gut-first

to the ground.

My weight heaves me,

my breath leaves me,

I am empty of everything, of any longing, any longer.

And there is only the realization –

that fairy was preaching some kind of Gospel

and that I am the willing sacrifice

on the cross of my own foolishness and desire.

(but what a kiss it was)

Monday, January 4, 2010

momma baby

baby asleep,
wrapped in fleece,
baby momma
draggin' her butt
from work to day care to shopping
with baby in arms, soft and warm,
momma's asleep herself on the RTA

free jazz

the day before New Year's Eve;
no money, no plans for the following night,
no spark, not seeing any kind of light,
wish I may, wish I might
have some kind of fist in this fight,
this mentally illman's plight --
never feeling enough,
always having to fight a battle
to get to the battle,
war drums rattle,
off in the distance,
I can wish it but can't fix it...

NPR, free jazz,
time, no time, sound and hands
on hand-crafted instruments,
radar red,
radio says,
"you are here, man...
follow the groove...
listen for your Muse…
this is the battle."