This is for You

This is for you, the girl on the tractor

sweating in the Montana sun, dreaming

of soft Parisian twilight, strolling down

The Champs-Elyseé , basking in the shadows

of the Museé de Beaux Artes.

This is for you, on your sixty-eighth birthday

counting the growth rings on the tree of life,

yearning for the soothing salve of the Rogue River,

crystal water running through your veins, seeping

purity into the soul’s solitude.

This is for you, the war-weary soldier

seeking solace from a surfeit of ravage,

scavenging through rubble of mosque-mania,

weeping for the massacred children,

questioning sacred duty under the guise of freedom.

These words are for you, and you and you,

Thirsting for nostalgia, simplicity; shunning

Complexity and derivation, reaching for clarity

Of thought, embracing beauty for beauty’s sake,

Loving the light shining through the window.

Our Connection

Our connection, a safe harbor, a warm womb

encapsulating our turbulence , stilling us against

roaring waves crashing the shoreline.

Too safe perhaps. Lingering in the interstices

the need to create without compromise, suffocation,

erasure- afraid of losing self, freedom.

So we struggle between holding on, letting go-

balancing between need and desire

like pre-pubescent teens in turmoil.

The Drawing

The Drawing

Her face- squirkels, hatches, cross-hatches-

shadow values of light and dark drawn from dreams;

her depression drearily depicted, like the gloomy drizzle

Of a rain-drenched day; lines of lassitude detail the comatose

torpor of sadness, the sorrow of trickling tears, cold charcoal

lips blended with graphite tips, rendering real his art, light

evolving from dark.

Time Change

Time Change

The clock

Sure and steady

Springs forward

Like a hungry robin

If only time stood still

Something for Nothing Man

Something for Nothing Man

Always he does things on the cheap

Free and easy his battle cries

Cobwebs line his leather purse

He fleeces friends like woolly sheep

Free and easy his battle cries

A coupon-clipper extraordinaire

Give him gratis or give him death

“On the house” his favorite words

Cobwebs line his leather purse

“Free of charge” his favorite tune

Low-price bargains make him swoon

A gratuitous, something for nothing man

He fleeces friends like woolly sheep

When the check comes and it’s time to pay

He runs like hell the other way

Well fed, foolish and friendless.

Birds and Bees

Birds and Bees

It's profound
she said as I spun my deep yarn
It's profound
she said from the loft of the barn
where I told her there's no harm
for birds to sing and bees to swarm
It's profound.

Expletives Undeleted

Expletives Undeleted

Mother fucker.

Mother fucker

Fiddlesticks,

Fiddlesticks

Gosh, darn, golly, gee

Caught his thumb

In an old car door

And went sailing out to sea

Motherfucker

Motherfucker

Shit fire

Shit fire

My heck, holy crap

Stubbed his toe

On a jagged rock

And felt like such a sap

The mothers came a-running

The fiddlers kept a-fiddling

And every time some hurt arose

The expletives kept a-dribbling

His words a sort of code you see

When nothing else will do

Forgive him mothers everywhere

He doesn’t have a clue.

Smoke Rings

Smoke Rings

She always smoked afterwards

arching her fine cat-like body

while gently squeezing the softening

member with her free hand. Smoke

curling in perfect ringlets. Volcanic

her O-shaped lips still tingling from

the taste of love. It was always like that;

him gently snoring satisfaction; her silently

blowing bands of hazy smoke rings

over their cooling bed of love.

Terrorism

Terrorism

overwhelms us
fretting from fear and anxiety
overwhelms us
terse terror in a society
a troublesome child's variety
catastrophic sobriety
overwhelms us

The Church that Granddad Built

The Church that Granddad Built

The old deserted church, sits by itself, weeping,

faded gray its time-worn wood and drooping cross,

its saints long-gone and living it up in another world.

If you listen carefully, you can still hear voices

of the choir, singing through the peeling shutters.

Sacred hymns riffling through broken down rafters.

Soft chords remember solemn, but happy Sundays.

Silent specters sing of joyful, love-filled days

of warm Sabbath mornings and long celebrations

of birth, marriage and death. Now the deer, the raccoon

the nocturnal owl-new parishioners worship through

broken windows and musty air of the silent altar.

Remembered and Reminded

Remembered and Reminded

Your card

wishing me a Happy Birthday

came in today’s mail.

I welcomed it like

the draft notice I received

on my eighteenth birthday.

The Map behind My Desk

The Map behind My Desk

Push-pins plaster the map
Behind my desk. Pinpointed
places, dream-travels. Places
to carry me away from today.

Flaming Gorge
The Red Sea
Old Faithful,
The Great Wall
The Great Barrier Reef
The Lesser Antilles
The Smithsonian Institute
Tutankhamen's tomb
Custer's Battlefield
The Las Vegas Strip
The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Anyplace but where I am.

Letter from an Ex

Letter from an Ex

Like a guided missile, your epistle

shooting through thin layers of tears

strikes my heavy heart, a thistle

tenaciously sticking to my fears.

Often your letters make me bristle

and drown myself in many beers,

but today’s tome makes me whistle

and forget about these lonely years.

You remind me of when first we met

holding hands by the little pond-

loving, gentle without regret

sharing dreams of far beyond.

The kids, no longer you say upset,

school is fine, they’ve moved on

and find comfort in Gus, the new pet.

Seems they’re busy dusk to dawn

"Oh by the way, the new man I found-

you know, the one I left you for;

well he’s gone, turned out to be a hound,

so I kicked his butt out the door.

I kind of wish that you were around,

but I guess that’s too much to hope for.

At night the house is an empty sound.

Gotta go, the dog is scratching at the door."

You tell me to write sometime

or stop in for a hot meal.

You even have my favorite wine.

Sorry sis, I’d rather swallow turpentine

Why Did I Log-on Today?

Why Did I Log-on Today?

Your e-mails always surprise me-
Fast moving trains they arrive and
disappear like specters smearing
the clarity of my consciousness.
Unable to grasp the rat-a-tat-tat
of your machine gun thoughts,
I settle for the pure music and sound
of your cacophonic words dancing
in my mind.

Postcard from San Diego

Postcard from San Diego

Ran into Jorge at the post office today
We were wondering about you
Must be nice to have friends that care
Jorge and I had a cerveza together
He told me he's returning to Mexico
And he asked for your address
So he can send his mother's tamale recipe

Memo

Memo

I didn’t eat my yogurt today

We went to the casino

And ate a ham steak slam

In the afternoon I noticed

It’s time to go on a diet again

Dear Alice

Dear Alice

Went to the funeral after all

Because I thought somehow

It would make a difference

It should have been a solemn time

Like a new beginning

Though the healing never came

Instead I started chatting with old friends

And we started remembering

And eating crepe Suzettes

She’s going to a good place

And she knows I won’t change

I will though

Haibun for a Small-Town Marine

Haibun for a Small-Town Marine

Their son was a jokester, easy going and popular. He loved golf and vacationing in Myrtle Beach, S.C. But there was a serious side too, and his parents said he believed in serving his country. As a bonus, he thought military service would help him one day get a job with the FBI or CIA. Before leaving for Iraq He showed his girlfriend the giant American flag flying over the car dealership on highway 79 and said “That’s why I joined the Marines.” When they brought his 18 yr. old body home, the hearse passed by the same flag.

A small bee returns

Seeking sweet nectars

From the same flower

Expiration Date

Expiration Date

Life doesn’t retire, just expires

like obsolete goods in a store-

fades into grays of distant shore.

Aging douses the burning fires

like obsolete goods in a store,

out-of date, like worn-out tires.

Aging douses the burning fires-

fading flames that used to roar,

out-of date, like worn out tires-

Old and not of much use anymore.

Fading flames that used to roar,

the King of Beasts in full attire-

old and not of much use anymore.

Deserted child without desire-

the King of Beasts in full attire.

His regal growl a softened snore.

Deserted child without desire,

quietly drifting, drifting ashore-

fades into grays of distant shore.

Life doesn’t retire, just expires.

An Omelet

An Omelet

She was the cheese

I, the egg folded around her.

The perfect omelet made to please.

She was the cheese,

tasty bait to make old cats purr.

Now she’s gone, my life’s a blur.

She was the cheese