The Dog Park

The Dog Park

They parade their dogs upon the grass
In finery fit for Easter Sunday
Showing off their royal class
They parade their dogs upon the grass
Poodles and schnauzers full of sass
Out for a stroll, a canine fun day
They parade their dogs upon the grass
In finery fit for Easter Sunday

War Sings Only One Tune

War Sings Only One Tune

“You cannot sit on bayonets
Nor can you eat among the dead
When all are killed, you are alone,
A vacuum comes where hate is fed”
…Delmore Schwartz


You cannot sit on bayonets
Leisurely smoking cigarettes
While making faces at the moon
Or bowing cellos in string quartets
The seat of war sings only one tune
You cannot sit on bayonets

Nor can you eat among the dead
Converse with souls who have fled
Or stroll along brick parapets
Where the soldier’s blood flows red
Cursing the guards in high minarets
Nor can you eat among the dead

When all are killed you are alone
With the silent desert, far from home
Pensive, reclusive, without a plan
In the shadow of a mosque’s bright dome
Iridescent in the wilderness sand
When all are killed you are alone

A vacuum comes where hate is fed
Devoid of matter, an empty bed
A time when a soul is forced to choose
Between the living and the dead
Finding the heart to win or lose
A vacuum comes where hate is fed.

You cannot sit on bayonets.

Before Sunrise

Before Sunrise

The loud songs
of the doves
of spring
disturb my sleep
with mating calls
of passion.

Withdrawal

Withdrawal

The things we care about
are suddenly disappearing
and we don't get it.

We've been too busy
writing blogs, searching
Google, indulging fantasies.

Lately have you noticed
how talks are one syllable grunts?
An uh-huh and a yup!

In and out of our lives
friends disappear, reappear,
disappear like spring blossoms

no time to inhale fragrances,
or nurture with chit-chat
lost in the clamor of cyberspace

mesmerized by the screen's glare
our world shrinks as we stare
into our own narrow gap.

The Bells

The Bells (Las Campanas de la Iglesia)

On every roadway, two paths-
One follows darkness, one light
Usually we choose neither.

Usually we wake up to the alarm,
roll over and re-close our eyes,
drift back into dreamland.

But the church bells----a wedding ? a funeral?
Or did you think it the sounds
of another Mexican fiesta
beatifying a new virgin towards sainthood?