It’s five o’clock; the coffeepot
rattles, sputters, gurgles as I
assemble lunch and feed the cat;
another morning, another dark
beginning to an endless stretch
of days flowing to some unknown
rendezvous where it all ends, what-
ever it is, wherever what is where
it is when it ends—the normal beat
upends such morning meditations.
It’s so hot when I walk outside
sweat begins to bead; I wonder
when we’ll reach the September
divide when the first front moves
down from the north, sending leaves
scurrying forth, plopping outsized
raindrops on the dusty earth. The
rain falls south along the coast, or
follows the freeway, leaving our
trees to brown, and gasp, and die.
Drought clutches the ground like
an ardent lover not to be denied,
sprinklers but a feeble effort to
fight off its insatiable lust to ****
the very marrow from the land,
scattering dead pines and blanched
oaks in ones and twos and threes
across lots and yards whose green
grass and manicured gardens belie
the dying waste that’s setting in.
The morning light oozes in from
the East, a sickly yellow glow on
the jagged tree line invading the
darkness behind a band of blue;
as I ease out onto the two-lane
toward the freeway where already
cars are stacking up in their rush
south toward the city’s towers,
the radio lists the casualties of
the latest shooting madness and
I begin to wonder about those in
power, and how they sleep with
so much carnage, before I remember
power and psychopathy are close
allied, and those who serve serve
only to survive. I then negotiate
the on-ramp to another day where
minutes, like cars, flash relentlessly
by in multi-colored hues, and death
rides shotgun in ones and twos.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
again
sweat everywhere
trees
deep fried
bushes
agonizing brown
air
water-full
sun
scarping flesh
life
droops sags
lolls
its tongue
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 6:05 AM UTC
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Through tangled brush and desert sands,
Through streets deserted of desire,
Through endless days in foreign lands,
Through endless nights of frigid fire.
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Down paths of gnarled, twisted roots,
Down aisles shorn of Christian grace,
Down littered lanes in soulless boots,
Down halls detached from learning’s face.
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Past houses crumbled into dust,
Past fields of long-forgotten faith,
Past bridges left to rot and rust.
Past cities clogged with money’s myth,
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Over rivers choked with ego’s blight,
Over mountains stripped of fervent hope,
Over oceans bare of wisdom’s light,
Over lands denuded of sacred scope.
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Into cleansing lakes of burning balm,
Into searing hearts filled with love,
Into frenzied arms of worried calm,
Into thine everlasting peace above.
*Free me from the winds of eternity,
Free me from the hounds of hell,
Free me from the pangs of memory,
Free me from my prison cell.*
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 6:10 AM UTC
It’s just a metaphor,
but bad things happen
when you take your
eye off the ball. Like
the time I fell putting my
pants on, spraining my
ankle, distracted by a
jogger in a sports-bra
glimpsed out the bathroom
window; like the woman in
Pittsburg who mistakenly
poured bleach in her husband’s
seven-n-seven contemplating
her black eye in a mirror; or
like the trucker in Oklahoma
reaching for his phone
across the seat, plowing
head-on into a school bus,
killing seven.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
Under the unremitting clarity of a
summer sky they met, one last time,
to say goodbye. She, stiff and puckered
as a frozen prune, could barely force a
smile, a thin rictus across the swollen
softness of her face, like the blackened
lightening **** down the pine she stood
beside.
He put his right hand on the trunk,
leaning in to look her in the eyes, his
shaven head bending into shadow, his
newly-minted uniform crinkling into place:
“It’s only a year,” he said; “the war’s almost
over. I’ll be back before you know it. We’ll
have the biggest wedding this town has ever
seen!”
His shining smile beguiled her, as it always
had. Her mouth unfroze, a salty tear prickling
on her tongue: “Don’t you go and get yourself
killed,” she said; “I can’t raise junior on my own.”
She patted her yet unswollen belly with her
right hand, placing her left on his bending face.
“Don’t let Curtis lead you on; he’s crazy. You’ll die
there.”
At that he laughed, a solid, good-natured
sound, as he drew back his head and grabbed
her hand in his. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “We
can Skype every night. I’ll be with you every
day.” He paused, looking up at the cone poised
above his head. “I’ll be able to go to college; I
can work; we’ll live with Mom; you’ll see; it’ll be
fine.”
“We’ll live with MY mom,” she said, smiling
up at him. He laughed again, putting his arms
round her shoulders, pulling her close, bending
down for one last kiss: A cloud obscured the
sun, throwing them in shadow, as he whispered
“I’ll be back. I love you so.” He straightened,
gave a salute, turned precisely, and headed to the
bus.
Under the unremitting clarity of a
summer sky they said goodbye, she—
to have and raise a son, he—to
die.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Sun & shadow
Green & blue
Here & now
Me & you.
Brown & fallow
Orange & pied
Dusk & sallow
Since you died.
Jul 7, 2016
Jul 7, 2016 at 5:58 AM UTC