paved with rare jewels
still if you remove your shoes
precious gemstones cut your feet
Category: poems
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We Do Not Learn (Poem)
when a desperate hand reaches out
from underneath the rubble
when it is covered with blood
and finds only hostile air to grasp
what comfort the reason for such destruction
the dust-filled sky the awful silence
the occasional lightning strikes of grief
torn from throats raw beyond measure
what matter now the distant machinations
each of us knows the pain of loss
each of us knows the sorrow
how then do we walk away from this suffering
our own house in ruins
our own bodies wounded and broken
our own voices scraped by tears
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Bird Flu (Poem)
not the close quarters at the bar
the small confinement of the car
not the dinner crowd shoppers in a rush
no I know it happened thus
when I ventured outside the basement door
alone in the vastness of the cold morning air
overhead there flew one lone crow
black with a screech and a definite sly mien
who dropped a virus right into my path
my gifts were unacceptable it seems
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Framing Questions (Poem)
and do you say “this is home”
placing your hand upon the door
so that it opens into the very room
where you have somehow left your heart
careless on the windowsill
or behind a lamp upon that table
it collects dust like every objet petit a
gets chipped edges and scrapes
will you leave it when you go
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Refinery Wind (Poem)
unnoticed as dirty smoke
it crawls into the present crevices
then you begin to choke
on all the burning excuses from the past
the skeletal bones of love and the wasted lives
dug up and used as fuel
for others’ urgent desperate needs
and so the cycle continues
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No New Year’s Resolutions (Poem)
nothing new to bring to the change
one day to the other then a different year
this arbitrary marker has no magic
affects not the seasons nor the sun the moon
it drives the senseless drivers of modern life
endless regulations that humans impose
nature has its own time unconstrained by foolish decree
so do I
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New Orleans, Natchez, Natchitoches (Poem)
this bar my respite from the town’s primary occupation
that of presenting facade just as brutal in effect as the original
genteel beauty serves the monied and the tourists
gardened grounds available for a suitable fee
the slave post for trade demolished and largely unmentioned
the crack of the whip and the ring of the chain still echo in the streets
District homes with storied pasts still preside with pride of place
in their shadows long cast labor those who keep them
one day some day one of them will take a match and strike
see how long it takes to burn this to the ground
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In The Shadow Of The Generator (Song)
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he crawl into the bang and thrum
make a nest inside the clang and hum
turn his heart into the piston’s drum
sleep as machined
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he dream of the past when he was so young
did he dream of the present while he was still strong
did he dream of the future when he’d be so old
did he dream of nothing hungry and cold
tired beyond means
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
did he hear the mountains sing of rocks and creeks
of labyrinth roads with views so bleak
of ridges blue and limned in smoke
where he would die
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator
what did he dream
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Lesson #31
he did not choose to tell me
I chose not to ask
I gave space for what he said
listened also to what was not
when he left I said goodbye
I do not think he heard
I bid farewell to the ghost
of the person I had thought him to be
it does not matter I’ve come to see
I do not even know myself
so cannot presume to know another
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Traveling Light (Poem)
my heart is heavy so I leave it
discarded on the street
half hidden by a dented can
I had wrapped it so carefully
in strong local thread
kindness gathered throughout the years
then placed it unwisely
and a knife blade sliced though
love weighs so much
anchors me to place and time
a ballast to somewhere I can no longer be
I travel soon no road no map
one memory resting in that raw space
tears easily turn to rain
body to dirt laughter to stars
I’ve no fear about this journey