Before my morning eyes have opened
a chorus of birdsongs tells me
that after days of wet
the sun has pushed away the night
and finally replaced the wind and rain

Cool rain falls on warm lawns, gluttonous grass drinks deep, becomes tall and fat.

The rose in vase can't see snow outside
for the rose in the vase...
however radiant,
beautiful....
Is still dead.

Christmas
is the christian holiday commemorating the birth of jesus christ in bethlehem
is a digital camera
is coming
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is for giving
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is a time of love
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is sharing
is a digital camera
is more than candle
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is a digital camera
is broken

I am 20 1st Avenue
Just as I am also St. Albans Drive
Old Stamford Road
Whitney Avenue
and a little Albermarle

But 20 1st Avenue is where I learned
How to make snow forts, big ones
and pillow forts that filled a living room

It's where I saw that if you plant a little tree
and hang around long enough
that you will have a great big tree
that drops black walnuts
So that you can caution your kids kids
that the walnuts can turn your skin black if you're not careful

It's where I learned what a Woolworths was
and that they sold plastic army men
with mortars, radios and M16s
by the bag for a dollar
nobody wanted the mortar or radio guy

Its where I learned what a honest to God toy store was
and because of that,
who Mr. Potato Head was.

It's where I learned about nuts
still in shells
and how to open them
with a crank nutcracker
or a little hammer
and how to get the meat out
with a lobster pick.

But most of all I learned
what a grandma was
that old people could be great fun
that they knew cool stuff
that they might allow you to do things your parents wouldn't
and that they could keep secrets
then finally
that they weren't forever
but their shadows in your life
were.

Warmer days and imperceptible green buds creep from dry grey sticks

Twenty is a number of perspective
To a kindergartner it is old
not "really old" like thirty
but still old.
To a man in his nineties
it might seem young, a long-ago-young
a time through which many of his friends,
Americans abroad,
didn't make it through.
Twenty dollars is a lot to a man
in an old coat
sitting on a bench in DuPont Circle
being handed a bag from CVS
containing a toothbrush
some soap and
new socks.
To a woman standing in line
at a Starbucks
glancing out the window to admire
her new Range Rover....
Twenty dollars is nothing
pocket change
she'll spend it here in this line
over the course of the day.
And what of me?
Of my perspective?
Twenty is measured in years
Hard ones
Not quite as hard ones (face it, it's never easy)
Years filled with laughter and watery eyes
Of jubilation and anguish
But years through which I can not imagine another path that I could have taken
to get here
to this point
this moment
with you.

As remnant snow fails to reach the ground,
promising sunlight through window
warms cold feet
placed there
by an eager
lover of summer

Course brown fibers of burlap
woven together years prior
rub against weather beaten neck
sometimes shrugged off
sometimes an irritant
pressed by
weight of a bag filled with rice
at times
to heavy to bear
but a small hole
unnoticed
where single grains slide free
to fall into the dust of the track
where they are mixed with dust
and are only noticed by birds
which carry them away
forever
bearer and bag sway, rise and fall
together
as the journey forward goes
each step
each sway
frees kernels from the confines
now in twos and threes
then a steady pour
from shoulder to ground
the hole is noticed
nothing can stem the flow
the bag grows lighter
but sags against back and chest
and is harder to hold
it slides from the shoulder
carried in arms like a small child
inevitably
the last of the grains falls free
glistening white
falls end over end
gleaming in the sun
and is lost with the others
the burlap is empty
the weight and toil is missed
words of anguish
and
the empty sack
is laid in the sea

Today,
two thin gleaming lines
run parallel from
her
to her family.

Two more,
lead from her family
to her future.
But,
not today.

Upside down and
cupped by dehydration
an autumn maple leaf quivers in
the cool
fall breeze

then a

puff

and it scurries to meet its kind
at he edge of the drive

Rain
Roof
Hole
Mop

The ignorant are easily led
But by emotion
Not by head

Though not just "over there" you see
But 'round here too
'round you and me

And when you add religion in
The leading's a cinch
Let the games begin

Instructions are not
necessarily followed better
if sung with no rhyme or reason
just tell them straight up, kids will listen.

Many hands make light work
but is that true of feet?

On a crisp clear autumn morning
many feet; old, young, somewhere in the middle
walk along the beach, through quiet streets
In support, memory, honor of those
Who can't remember
and have forgotten why

Tiny tots
in crimson hats ringed with fur
or green and white striped ones
with elvish ears on the sides
pile from the bus
or car
and
subvert
the no religion rule
by waving icons of Christendom
before their friends
at a place where
religion
is supposed to stay
at home.
Is it innocent or are they
the unwitting mules for
Christianity?

Eighteen
and after years at home
with mom
and dad
life truly begins
big changes
spreading wings
leaving the nest

and in the wake of these big changes
a mom and dad
stand at an open door
proud
a little sad
and
with arms around each other
watch
smiling
with tears on their cheeks
as their child
now an adult
takes flight

Standing in the dewy grass
I hope and pray that they will pass
But they may not
'stead come to stay

I know not
If I die this day

The Redcoats come a thousand strong
their battle line is wide and long
What's ordained
I can not say

I know not
If I die this day

We stand apart but look across
to the other line and toss
a look of nervousness
then pray

I know not
If I die this day

Commanders yell, Commanders bark
their orders all along the park
but then a shot rings out and in
the confusion, it begins

Standing 'cross an open field
neither of our lines will yield
one line of blue
the other gray

I know not
if I die this day

Often seems we've fought in vain
and 'long the march have caused much pain
I've left good comrades
along the way

I know not
If I die this day

My brother serves 'neath Mile's Flag
I serve beneath a diff'rent rag
and if I **** him
what's to say

I know not
If we'll die this day

Commanders bark, Commanders yell
and call us to the gates of hell
then all at once morn's silence splits
as men are shredded, torn to bits

My craft rocks gently through the sea
and towards the beach on which I'll be
to face a wall
and see Death play

I do think
I may die this day

"Keep your heads down" Sergeants call
as on us squalls of lead rain fall
some will succumb
and fall away

I do think
I may die this day

As we close on norman sand
to bear the brunt of Swastic hand
around me tough men
kneel and pray

I think that
I may die this day

Commanders shout, Commanders scream
and seconds turn to awful dream
then a bump and ramp unfolds
for many luck no longer holds

Desert sand fills hair and ears
It seems I've been at this for years
It's over now fore
Death holds sway

I know that
I will die this day

The day was normal as it could
we took precautions as we should
but life's one
IED away

I know that
I will die this day

Soon I'll be with others who
have given up their own lives too
for keeping our
home country's way

I know that
I will die this day

And through these fading eyes of mine
I see generations who've crossed that line
and as colors
fade to gray

I know that
I will die this day

All I feel are grains of sand
that arid winds wash 'cross my hands
what happens next
who's to say

I know now that
I die this day.

Monkey won't let go
with hand around unseen fruit
in *** tied to post
monkey is forever trapped
against his self interest

It seems that to some
that I hate a certain cat
just because I used his call
as a punctuation mark in a previous poem.

That I hate this certain cat
is not the case at all.
His meows serve as a punctuation mark in another poem
and only as that, like the shout of a man.

Not the case at all
this perceived dislike of said feline
and just like the shout of a man
his attention can be welcomed at times.

This perceived dislike of said feline
is not always a correct read of the relationship.
His attention can be welcomed at times,
late at night watching tv is one such time.

A correct read of the relationship
would be one of mutual understanding,
of a shared love late night TV
while absentmindedly scratching between a pair of furry cat ears.

Me
alone
thinking big
too big to sleep
yet in sleep I free my mind to wander

She went away my little girl
sure she was seventeen
but she'd always been around
my kid
my daughter
my friend
yes, singing

She was always responsible
smart and funny
musical and funny
emotional
kind, apathetic and funny
yes funny

Then she went away
today she returned

Different

More poised
More confident
More
Grown up
Less a teen
more an adult

Different

And yet
still
wickedly
brilliantly
funny.

On the tree, dead Poison Ivy leaves reveal a vine that was missed

If I were beaten down one day, what would I do?
I would get angry and
defensive.
I would stand up and fight for myself.
Wouldn't I.

If I were beaten down one week, what would I do?
I would stand on trembling legs,
strong.
I would stand up for myself.
Wouldn't I?

If I were beaten down one month, what would I do?
I would pull myself upright,
wobbling.
But I would stand, for myself.
Wouldn't I?

If I were beaten down one year, what could I do?
I could stand, perhaps leaning against a wall,
wondering.
But I could still stand.
Couldn't I?

If I were beaten down for decades, what should I do?
I should stand or at least sit upright,
take a breath.
I should rest perhaps close my eyes.
Shouldn't I?

If I were beaten down for centuries, what could I do?

The light of summer
now lost
my soft green carpet
turns brown and crunchy

My newer driver
feels the excitement
of a ski jumper
as she is poised
in her car
at the top of our driveway
as the snow falls
and
her mind set
she is off.

If the strongest bully
makes sure you know it
who intimidates and pushes around
to get his own way
to a point where he has no true friends
just nervous compatriots

suddenly

talks instead of terrorizing
helps instead of hurting
befriends instead of beating

do we care what the motivation is
or do we welcome the change

and how long until we trust him completely

fragile white crystals crushed by cold feet of twigs and fallen birdseed

Summer's webs remain behind.

They are tucked between an air conditioner
who is leaving for vacation on a shelf in the laundry room downstairs
and the window frame that faces a lonely winter
tucked out of view on a short wall staring at the pond next door
which has been emptied by this Autumn's drought.

And like that old mottled and greyed lace dress I saw hanging limply in a thrift shop once,
they speak of livelier times.

If careless with fire
And burn your beautiful house
The guilt is yours
And you should not stand aloft
Proclaiming the fireman's guilt

Tremble little polliwog
the pond's Great Bass is nigh.
and if he should to catch you up
you certainly will die

But wait, ahead some reeds so stiff
that should you wriggle in
could be as strong as prison bars
and protect from tooth and fin.

The loss of loved ones has clarified something
it is not that the ache of loss is profound
for it is

Neither is it that watching a loved one struggle
with the looming reality of passing wrenches the gut
for it does

the clarification comes after
the passing
the mourning
the sadness
and depression

the will

the clarification is
that no matter how spiritual we are
or
how much we love those others left with us
behind
that the division of property
most likely equals
division of family

and it is for that reason
that I hope there is no heaven
from which the passed
can look down
and be sad at what
has happened

despite best intentions

in their wake

It's Opening Night, it's Opening Night
excitement, butterflies and stage fright
there is so much to do
please don't miss a cue

30 minutes
thank you 30

It's Opening Night, it's Opening Night
sound effects, butterflies and stage fright
Oh, the costumes are grand
actors know where to stand

10 minutes
thank you 10

It's Opening Night, it's Opening Night
lighting, butterflies and stage fright
lines have been learned
set pieces to turn

5 minutes
thank you 5

It's Opening Night, it's Opening Night
stage liquor, butterflies and stage fright
the call is to places
and make-up's on faces
the props are all set
but we're not ready yet

house lights out

open the curtain

bring up the lights

and

we're off

Pencil love
before I saw Flairs
as a child
yellow sticks
smudgy hands
scratching cars and dinosaurs
on plain white paper

***** was discovered in Poland
or so I am told
They were trying to distill kerosene
from potatoes

If that's true then
Who was the first Pole
To say
I wonder if you can drink it?

He or she should be a saint.

Beneath the snow
the frigid wind,
the dirt,
lie little
ticking
time-bombs,
waiting for the warmth of spring
to set them off,
to explode through soil
in a carpet of luscious green…
they don't know
their reach for the sun
will be regulated
by
my lawn mower

A place to hold things
like dishes
or secret meetings about Iraq

both with probably break at some point anyway

Calculating Route
Continue on current road
Continue on current road
Left turn in 1 point 5 miles
Left turn in 1 mile
Left turn in point 5 miles
Left turn
......
Calculating Route
When possible, make a legal u-turn

Bury not me
on the lone prairie

scatter my dust instead
to the winds above your head

please let me land and forever stay
where people laugh, create and play

There is a spider in my bathroom

She picked an awful spot
at the corner
where the shower meets the floor
and the wall

Location location location

There really is nothing
prey-wise
that goes near there
now that the ant traps are set

still, she has located herself there

built a web
and hangs
waiting for the tremor in the line
that will never come

or will it?

This morning I caught a fly
which is really quite easy
once you realize that they leap up
straight away from whatever they are perched on

just grab the air above their head

Once the fly was in my hand
I looked at the spider
she looked hungry
and since the fly was doomed anyway

I bounced it off the floor into her web

Then, watching the care
and finesse she had
preparing her meal,
I named her Julia

Small people with big wide eyes
Little hands point to my head
Grown-ups too smile, laugh and point      
My squid hat does that

I am sorry
I am sorry
I am sorry for your hurt
I am sorry for your loss
I am sorry for your fear
I am sorry for your anger
I am sorry for your sleeplessness

I hope that time will heal your hurt
I hope that you can understand that others share your loss
I hope that your fear of the new opens your eyes to the opportunities before you
I hope that you can see past the anger to the love we have
I hope you can understand that the sleeplessness is shared too
I hope
I hope

In a small formation of ice
grasping to a New England stone fence
sits a seed
frozen
held there through no fault of it's own
frozen
held
unable to grow
to reach for the sun
until Spring's thaw

It's Friday,
and I used to look forward to this day...
when I was in school...
when I was at one or two of my non-retail jobs...
while I am at my current job.

Friday used to be the start of a break,
in the routine,
in the tasks at hand left behind until Monday.
we'll talk about her later

We bought a house recently
and after 20 years of rentals,
it is now our responsibility to
keep things up...
looking ship shape...
like someone who actually cares
lives here.

So now Friday no longer's the respite from the daily grind
but the start
of weekend work.

"They may not bloom year one" she said yet, planted in a new yard they do.

On Father's Day
I remember Dad
His practical jokes
His anger
His love
His temper
His laugh
His frustration at life
His creativity
and now
at 53
11 years older than he ever was
I understand

The reality is;

That mom is gone
That I am the oldest now
That there are things to go through
That there are things to get rid of

and to sell and

that's going to

hurt.

The end is coming soon
Contracts are inked
Agreements and inspections done

So after the deal is done,
and the house gone, soon  to be razed
what will be a mother's legacy?

A new home in a town nearby
A secure business on the west coast
A range of new possibilities waiting to be taken
College for a granddaughter

None of which
A mother knew possible
Before she was gone

Tiny visitor on my window
Unseen as both you come and go
But noticed just the same
Been singing since you came
How long your song will last I do not know

Late snow falls through warm air landing on young daffodils, doomed