One copy of Unicorns is enough, thank you.
And thanks for the likes attached to this duplicate copy.

When I joined, I assumed that the name I put on my poetry was
the name I should use here.  So I put Lori Jones McCaffery.
After being here only a few days, I realized many people had
created pen names for themselves and I wished I had done
so too.  Too late to go back and change my name on
everything I've posted, but that's OK.

However, when someone sends me a nice compliment,
they often use the whole name too.Kinda makes me feel like
a school marm or something.  I'm not at all a formal person.
I'm at the other end of the scale, so please one and all, feel
free to call me Lori.  It'll be easier for you to type and make
me feel more like "one of the gang".

O  my precious-
Leaving looms as a huge black vulture before me
And I am terrified.

I cannot buy him off with tears or with pleading
And I cannot hide from his seeking eyes.

All the courage I promised myself has fled me
And I tremble alone in my fear.

What will become of this raging inferno
When the winds of distance fan it.
Will it flash higher or gutter and die.
The colossal dark bird doesn’t answer.

He only stands watching
As uncaring clock hands
Drag me ever closer.

The world goes out of focus with my longing.
Just one moment more, a minute, an hour-
A lifetime would be not enough.

O my beloved-
I hear his wings flapping, waiting for me
And I crumble.

Somehow I must find a face
With some valor in it that can say goodbye
And not drown us both in sorrow.

That can watch you go
For an ever of evers
And not cry out against our very  God.

I am so small
And your gift is so great
How shall I conquer this parting.

In this, my hour of panic I would sell all of my past
For one half of its time in the future.
But the ebony bird isn’t buying.

He’s only beckoning me
And I must go
And I MUST go

O my true lover, I must go.

No book of rules and regulations
To warn the jar holds just one quart
So all the pushing of the liquid
Will not fit a gallon in
And I will have to mop the spill

Verses spelled on ***** sidewalks
Written in 3 shades of chalk
Embellished with fantastic flowers
Only end up walked across
And smudged from recognition
                        ljm

Digging after some small perfect diamond
To place into a hand that never fondled one before
Nor could even hold one now,
It’s corporeal being burned away in grieving,
I reach for my pen
I cannot find it with my vision pulsing so in liquid sorrow.
It is mislaid among the clutter
That ***** traps my days and roils my mind in darkened hours
      

M y love is like a red, red rose
Y oung with the dew-kissed promises of spring.

L aden with unique perfume,
O n a slender stalk it blooms
V ery near the edge of a sunlit garden,
E ndlessly transforming but always the same.

I  offer you this rose in hopes that
S someday fields of them will shine.

L oving you turns ugly weeds
I nto rare exotic blossoms that
K iss the summer breezes with their scent
E ven as they wither and turn brown.

A bsolute perfection is my love and this red flower.

R each out and touch this rose I offer-
E very thorn is gentle and not sharp-
D o  not fear of hurt from it.

R ather fill your senses with the joy of it,
E ndlessly fresh within your hand, and never
D ying, only changing to become more sweet.

R eceive this gift I bring to you and
O nly let me be that rose
S o  that my soul lies in your hand and heart for all
E ternity.
<< >>

This is the story of an aching love.
A hopeless schoolgirl kind of thing.
He was a basketball star player on
The Monticello Mustangs team,
Not showy, but quiet and a little shy.
He was glorious to look at
through the lenses of my brown eyes.
I had to work to learn his name-
it was Finnish, spelled Laulainen.
I said it lots of different ways until I heard
somebody say it right-
Ed     Law lie’ nen
All the bells rang out and bluebirds sang
As I crooned and whispered that magic name
In the quiet of my room.
I never had a class with him-
he was a year ahead.  
He wasn’t part of rowdiness
when passing in the halls
from one lesson to the next.
If he walked past I turned into
A pillar of salt dyed crimson
From the blood that burst my heart.
I don’t recall now how I came to have it
But I had a small creased snapshot of him and
I slept with it under my pillow every night.
I touched it and looked at it and imagined
him touching me.  The thought of him
kissing me was far beyond my wildest dreams
I suspect my mom knew it was there,
but she never said a word
And I guarded it like my virginity.
And my best friend had no idea.
He never knew I was alive-
he didn’t know my name.
I was one of the nameless girls
That are present but unseen.
One day I was sent to the cafeteria
For something the teacher needed.
Standing by the now closed door
Was God Who Walked The Earth,
Ed Laulainen in the flesh.
The shock of standing next to him
paralyzed my tongue.
I dared not look at him
and finally only said “Is anybody there”.
Did he answer - I don’t know.
I was terrified and in paroxysms
of ecstasy. I was sharing the same air he breathed.
He left Junior High for Senior High and I lost track of him.
But I loved him with ferocious fervor and wishful longing
If desire could have made him mine, Midas would have
been poor by comparison.
OccasionallyI think of him and the plain little girl who worshipped him.
Where did he go - how did  he grow - what kind of life did he live.
In ten more years the little girl could have most anyone she wanted
but the crinkled photo stayed in a trinket box for a long,long time before
it washed away on the tides of new loves, real loves, and living.
I wish I could see him once again to tell him the story of
the little girl who chose him to love with all her soul and first flush of emotion.
                                   ljm

Which face will I wear today
    The face I wear at work
          Cheerful member of the staff
          Underpaid - unappreciated
           Tiny office with no window
           Paperwork nobody looks at
           Rules just for the sake of rules

Which face will I wear today
      The face I wear at home
            Always tired, depressed, besieged
            by a thousand minor ailments
            All the things I'd like to do
             crowded out by other things
             I have to do that are no fun.
      
Which face will I wear today
      The face that sports a poet's cap
            Gel filled quill pen clutched in hand
            Trying every format I can learn
            Gleaning from the published experts
            Writing happy after years of sad
            Finding sunshine in the shadows that I live in

Which face will I wear today
      The face above the helping hands
            that reach for places to be used
            That garner joy from mucking in
            to smooth the path for others
            Seldom thanked - often refused
            Bucket goal - to save a life.

Which face will I wear today
      The face that looks back from the mirror
            Mapping all the tracks of age
            Searching for the sparkle in the eyes
            that joined hands with my youthful looks
            and did a conga-line away

Which face will I wear today
      Picasso portrait of them all
            Ill and hale - strong and weak - sad and glad
            When seen together in the mirror
            it's a face I do not know
            and someone I don't care to meet

So check the clock and choose a face
    Paste it on and smooth it out
        Comb hair over all the edges
             **** the light and close the door
                 And take this face out for a walk
                       See if anybody says hello
                                           ljm

Standing on the sidewalk
Hearing all the back talk
Watching while they cakewalk
Wonderin’ how I got here.

Step behind the bar table
Fool yourself if you are able
Tell yourself this ain’t no stable
And them ain’t dumb animals.

Start a conversation
End it in frustration
Why the aggravation
You know ******* can’t talk.

Turn into a pill head
Drop ‘em til you see red
Wish that you could be dead
Or anywhere but here.
                   <<>>

How is it possible to love that  which I hate so much.
What sort of mind-warp enables me
To seethe one moment and smile the next.
What eraser clears the blackboard of my anger
So an hour from now it’s empty and
All ready to be scrawled across again.

I don’t understand why I settle for moments
When what I really want is a  lifetime.
To be the yang to an extraordinary yin
Instead of mama chicken shepherding her brood of one.

Why am I above the ground when who I am
Was murdered years ago.
Aren’t the dead supposed to be interred?
Am I a zombie of neglect and co-dependence
Hulking, blind of eye and blank of soul,
Across an aching painscape.
ljm

My Titanic’s slowly sinking
The mighty horns are blowing danger         danger
And the iceberg’s in my soul
No way now to read the charts
That might have found a safer route

Launched with golden expectations
To set new records on the wires
Steady progress, ever forward
Mindful of the precious cargo
Forging through the troubled waters

Then a squall blew from the north
All the maps were obsoleted
Other captains took the helm
Said they’d be sailing by the stars
But only they had eyes to see them

Battered by the winds of evil
Banners flapping in the gale
Sent a message of confusion
Warning help to stay away
Praying that it still would come

As the ocean laps my ankles
All the lifeboats are long gone
Every hope has washed away
And I must learn to love the water
That will be my final home.
LJM

The ravels in my sleeve of care
Grow longer every night-
Especially in the morning
When I struggle back to sleep
From waking up too early

Only to be bushwhacked
By brigades of unsolved problems,
Battalions of frustration
And whole Armies of defeatment
Marching out to meet me.

While you’re asleep your secret mind
Is solving all the puzzles
That unhinge the hours when you’re awake
And dodging slings and arrows.
That is the scholar’s promise.

That is what the con men say
In psychiatric clinics
Where they write the books
Explaining what it means to fly
And why we never land when falling.

Sleep refreshes and renews-
At least that is the theory.
It’s not supposed to wear you out
And beat you down while dreaming
Out the scripts you didn’t write.

When the raveling is complete
And both my sleeves have come undone
Will I dream of flowered fields
And happy times, successes and rewarding
Or will it end and I no longer dream at all.
                    ljm

A futile pen, mortally wounded
By the razor hands of a leering clock
Lies bleeding;
Staining irrevcocably
The snow-white side-ruled shroud
That once was hunger's meal;
Casting low, long shadows
Over unborn, nonexistent lines.
                     << >>

Why couldn’t you have been hateful-
Make it easier for me to go.
Why couldn’t you have been cheating
And I’d been the last one to know.

Why couldn’t you be indifferent
Not caring if I go away.
Why must I see your heart breaking
And want to, but know I can’t stay.  
                  *  ljm

From the darkness of a midnight corner
a sudden gleam - light on a shiny surface      
wet where everything is always dry a
lump of something darker than the night
huddles in a heap against the plaster
broken by the jackboot toes  of time
rushing through to other places
There is no definition to the shape
that quivers but does not ever move
or shift the silent air with breathing

From the corner where no light invades
the shadow of a recent battle
hides the echoes of the last defeat
and muffles cries for help to come
and blends itself into the blackness
that’s both transparent and opaque
presenting as a silly fun house mirror
changing all perceptions of reality

In the murky gloom that dominates the corner
keeping time to music no one hears
the marks left by the whip are hard to see and
seeping red drops fake the look of ink
The half closed eye is leaking little rainbows
made from seven shades of ebony
that fall and ****** on the carbon floor
as the clump of misery refolds itself
in ever smaller, tighter packets tied with screams
that ricochet into the vastness of forever.

No White Knight or Unicorn
will ever find the corner
The spotlight of humanity
sports a burned out bulb
The gentle hand of kindness
is rolled into a fist and stuffed
into a pocket of uncaring.
The corner was
The corner is
The corner ever
more will be
             ljm

(with apologies to Elizabeth Barret Browning)

                                        Arrogant
­Book Soldier
Conceited
Con Artist
Covetous
Cunning
Deceitful
Disingenuou­s
Egoist
Egregious
Envious
Entitled
         ­                               Evil
Haughty
Hypocritica­l
Ignominious
Immoral
Jealous
Jumped Up
Machiavellian
Martinet
Mendacious
Nit Picky
                                        Obsessed
Peck Sniff
Perfidious
Persnickety
Pompous
Popinjay­
Predatory
****
Rapacious
Regimental
San­ctimonious
                                        Self Important
Shylock
Smarmy
Sophist
Supercilious­
Unctuous
Unethical
                                   ­     Vile
                                        Vicious
       ­                                 Zealot
       ljm

Seething anger has burned down the barn
Where iniquity wove its amber curtains
On vintage looms of deceit and falsehood
Skylarks can’t nest there anymore
And the creek is poorer for it

The harvester is grounded and
The scythe lies in the ashes and the brambles.

The Almanac forecasted heavy rain
But the wind instead blew from the East
And was impossible to batten down
Now things once wet are very dry and cracking

There’s naught to load and take to market
Where tears won’t buy the milk and butter
And there’s no one left to bake the bread

Hurry up those stumbling feet
Wishing won’t create a cow
And you don’t own a pasture
Or a salt lick anyway

The only thing that you have left
Is an igneous tomorrow and incendiary dreams
                      ..  ljm ..

If you leave me
All the hangers will get tangled in the closet.
It won’t matter;  all my clothes will be on the floor.

If you leave me
The cheese in the refrigerator will turn green.
And the milk will soon be far too thick to pour.

If you leave me
The remote will only tune in somber shows.
That will be OK;  I’ll have forgotten how to laugh.

If you leave me
Dust bunnies will build a hutch beneath the bed
Where one forgotten slipper hides that I will never move.

If you leave me
The sun will shine on everything that’s not within my view.
I won’t mind;  my sunglasses will fool everyone but me.

If you leave me
Hummingbirds won’t visit the back garden any more
They’ll be blind to the red juice in the feeder.

If you leave me
I will build a house of memory and grief
And move myself inside and lock the door
                    ljm

I’m angry at the world
For not playing fair
And then mocking me
When I do

I hate all the apathy
That stands and observes
And makes no attempt
To enforce the rules

I’m angry at all
That I have to give up
To wait for my turn
And take only my share

I hate that the meaning
Of good has been altered
To apply to group ethics
That are coated in shame

I’m angry to see
How the cheaters will win
And honesty comes
A poor second

I hate all the smugness
(Check Paul Ryan’s face)
And those who are like him
Cheating their way to their goal

I’m angry to be cursed
With the gene of fair play
Permanent - same as
The brown of my eyes

I hate that I have to
Spend so much time hating
Hate is an acid
Dissolving my soul
                    ljm

Rumbles of
          Thunder
Light the candles of my mind
safely shielded from the
          Winds
of conflagration
Fire has never been my friend
There are
          Ashes
on my forehead
from the rubble at my feet

Mainsails billow in my consciousness
as a crimson mistral sets my boat
Out to sea
to search for the
                    Giant Drum
That lightning plays upon
when dybbuks from the ocean deeps
                   Rise Up
To sink my craft and all aboard in
                      Flaming Parodies
Of a movie Viking funeral
        **ljm

The mouse in the maze is very weary.
It’s way too much concerted effort
Just to earn a grain of corn.
The route is always changing
And someone turns off and on the lights.
The music plays the same song, over
The humming of the ventilators
And the shutter bangs incessantly.

The mouse is tired of stupid games.
No one cares which way it runs,
Or how much corn drops into the bowl.
The smell of *** in the far back corner
Makes the air unpleasant to inhale.
The will to win another piece of corn
Battles with the need to find
The exit that is at the other end.

Notes have to be written down
Measurements and timings
Fill the logbooks of the staff,
As bored and weary as the mouse.
Protocols must still be followed
Finally the time clock in the hall
Clicks over to the magic hour
And mouse and men can all go home.
            ljm

The spot is empty where he sat close by my feet
And gazed at me with loving whippet eyes, but
Not as empty as the hollow in my heart.

His walking lead hangs by the door
Reminding me each time I pass
That I must learn to walk alone.

His favorite toy, abandoned now,
Brings tears where it once brought
Laughter at his antics as he played.

This well loved dog, my mate of many years
Was very like the decade of my youth
With me for a certain special time, then gone.

A candle in the darkness of my grieving
Lights the places where all the good times were
And becomes a beacon for my memories forever.
           ljm

Three times nothing is nothing
Why do you keep going back
Haven't you had enough nothing
To last til forever and back.
                          

Seven times seven to the seventh power
Will tell you how much I love you this hour.
If you tripled the stars and a few more could borrow
It would give an idea how I'll love you tomorro  
                                            

The word I can’t find is gagging my pen
Gates slam shut when I knock on the door
The thunder clouds rumble and crash while
The sea nears it’s ebb and the seagulls all land
To scratch in the sand for what I have lost
Intellectual handcuffs chafe but hold firmly
To the cast-iron pipes of yesterday’s genius.
My pencil has a broken lead; the poison seeps
Into the veins that hold my life together.
Fist pounding breaks the thinner ice along the edge
But the navigation channel remains frozen
And thoughts ice skate away to music I can’t hear.
Like a hungry bird chick in a broken nest
Chirping with an open mouth for sustenance
From Mama lying dead below among the leaves.
I know the meal will not appear.
                           ljm

With a one TRACK
mind, vast determination and a CRESCENT
smile, she set out to DRIVE
a ROUTE
that she hoped would BYPASS
the pitfalls of the low ROAD,
and carry her to a HIGHWAY
that would lead to AVENUES
of success in her search for Primrose LANE,
the BOULEVARD
of dreams and easy STREET.

She paused to MEWS
on her plans and decided that she’d WALK
the CIRCLE
forest PATH
around the public GARDENS
at the bottom of the CUL DE SAC,
but the TRAIL
through the GROVE
was muddy and the gate was about to CLOSE,
so she thought it best to hit the ROAD
and be on her WAY
before she ended up in COURT
asking the judge to OVERLOOK
her trespass in the PARK
          ljm

Down at the bottom of this hole
I worked so long and hard to dig
I can barely see the sunlight any more.

My feet are molding from the salty damp
That doesn’t come from rain
Or subterranean springs or rivers.

My shovel leans against the wall,
It’s wooden handle crimsoned
On the dirt that also isn’t paint.

Impossible for wind to reach me
Way down here, so what’s that howling
That I hear?  Could it possibly be me?
                ljm

It’s a very funny scene, watching them together,
Knowing he’s mine.
Remembering how his arms felt around me last night;
Watching her feed the baby she made for him
And wondering if one is now growing inside me.
     ^^^^^

Spirits soaring
Twinkling star
Love awak'ning
Meteor

Gay abandon
Deep repose
Frangrant lilac
Wilting rose

Tendrils seeking
Drawung bacj
Great abundance
With'ring lack

Surging upwards
Windswept sray
Rise to Heaven
Fade away

Seek a rainbow
Sparkling hue
Find a diamond
Drop of dew

Wings of silver
High above
Be the emblem
Of my new love
            ^^^

Discontent and boredom battle mightily
To see which owns my addled wit.
Rain streaks down the kitchen windows
Making worm-like shadows on the floor.

The need to move nips at my torpor
And reads my dictionary of excuses
As I stare at crumbs on the tablecloth
And wish I had another biscuit.

What’s gone wrong, I can’t make right.
I’m stuck here with no options
And I don’t care which way it goes;
I’m too busy being grumpy.

There’s a cricket hidden in the hallway
Nine days now and it just won’t die.
The muted chirping stops and starts,
Loud enough to be annoying

But not enough to be a mask and hide
The thunder of my disappointment
When clouds and rain refuse to leave
And I am left with only empty musings.

My hands aren’t pretty any more.
They used to pose so gracefully
But time has bruised and twisted them
And they no longer reach out to be seen.

That’s just another loss to ponder:
Take a number - stand in line.
Everything depresses me, and then...
There’s that mother-******* cricket!
              ljm

My fingerprints have gone missing.
I sit and there is no dent in the cushion.
I sleep and the duvet lays flat and smooth.
I’m afraid to walk in the wet sand
For fear no footprints will be following me.
I’ve covered every mirror in the house
I can’t bear to not see a reflection.
I whistle for the dog - she doesn’t come.
I make no shadow on the wall.
The scale says I weigh nothing.
I seem to have faded like poorly dyed fabric
Left out in the blazing sun.
Can it be possible I’ve become a wraith
Of someone I once was and am no more.
I didn’t feel the transformation -
I touch my cheek and it feels warm -
But I sneeze and no one says “God Bless You” -
So I guess I’m well and truly gone.
   ljm

He gave her the Earth, the Moon and Mars.
Still she said she needed more space.
      So he gave her the air.
   ljm

Neither Nightingale or Crow
Neither Whippoorwill or Sparrow
Perched on phone lines, never trees
Still those birds have the right to sing.

Target of bad boys’ B B Guns
Splashed with water canons
They fly til they can fly no more
And tremble in the shadows.

Their feathers have a bit of shine
When sunbeams fall just right
But all too often that just makes
Them that much easier to find

And targets them for hatred rocks
Thrown by those who only
Recognize a Woodpecker
And a Robin Red Breast.

Too bad their music goes unheard
Most often it is beautiful
If they could sing with the other birds
The music would become symphonic.
                 ljm

Zinging the zen-zone I was in
A zany request zig-zagged my way.
Princess Zinnia from the Zuider-Zee
Required a zippy line or two
To paint the zeitgeist of our times.

With the strength of a Zamboni-
With the power of a Zeus-
And an uncommon zeal I set out
To zap the doubt that slowed me.

With the flair of a Florenz Ziegfeld
And his zoftig choir of beauties,
I morphed into a zealot
Gamboling in the zephyrs
That wafted in from Zurich and Zaire,
Not to mention Zanzibar.

I felt like a Zacharias
When my zealous work went bust.
The writing turned into a zonk-
The accolades were zilch.
I felt like I’d been zippered up
Like a zebra in a zoo.

I lost my zest for going on
And slopped around in old Zoris,
Listening to zydeco’s beat
And feeling like a zit.

But then the Zodiac-
My zinging-singing sign
Came to my rescue
And I was marching off to Zion.

I was one wowie-zowie-zucchini
As I zipped across the pages
And zoomed from one idea
To an even zippier one.

So here, Sunprincess, is your verse
I’ve used up every letter zee
And gone from very bad to worse
But of this challenge, I am free.
                         ljm

H aven for those who’s words are never read
E ven though they pour their souls and very
L ives and spirit through their pens or
L et their fingers nurture beautiful tomorrows
O n the keyboards of their creativity.

P oetry is the blood that pumps
O ut wondrous magic from those fertile minds that
E nds up on a glowing screen or printed page, in hopes
T hat it can give birth to a long awaited
R ennaissance in the thinking of the world, and create a
Y earning for a better way to live and love.
ljm

Standing on a lily pad
In a very unfamiliar pond
I determined not to get my feet wet-
But the splashes felt so good
I reached out instead of drawing back.

Who wold have known I was parched-
I didn't even know I was thirsty.
                      

Here they all come to get ready.
Excitement is rosying their cheeks.
This is the day they’ve been waiting for
And dreaming and planning for weeks.

The six bridesmaids, all in a flurry
Of hangers and makeup cases,
Begin to get into their dresses
And do last minute things to their faces.

On the other side of the building
In a room that’s a little more male,
All the groomsmen are solving the mystery
Of dressing in white tie and tails.

Now the bride and her parents arrive
And I really can go into action.
I have  checked over every last detail
And it all  meets to my satisfaction.

I supervise pinning corsages
And give the girls their bouquets.
Then I check on the progress of seating
To make sure there will be no delays.

Everything now is in order
And still five minutes left to the time
I will start them each one down the aisle
To the sound of the ***** and chime.

At last here it is, it’s beginning.
“Start on your left foot...and smile”
The glow that I get as I watch them
Makes all of the effort worthwhile.

And now for the bride and her father.
She’s radiant.  He’s very proud.
I open the doors, the ***** swells,
But she doesn’t notice the crowd.

She looks to her groom at the altar
And her smile is only for him.
As he waits for her there with the preacher,
Slightly nervous, but handsome and trim.

As I watch from the back I get misty
Remembering my own wedding day
And I know that my joy is worth more
Than any fee I could ask them to pay
                               

P  erhaps it’s time to scribble down a word or two,
E  ven though I have nothing cogent to proclaim.
N  evertheless the urge is one that must be answered to.

O  nce a long, long time ago the words poured forth, but
N  ow the well has seemingly gone dark and dry.

P  ossibly the act of touching pen to empty pages-
A  s an act of penance for strangling the muse of
P  oesy in a knotted, convoluted scarf of dreariness- will
E  nable what was meaningful so long ago to finally
R  ecover and deliver something worthwhile once again.
                                                          ­  ljm

On a dark cloudy day in a forest
The sun peeps through
The branches of my soul
And warms me.

In a gloomy, silent woodland
A bird I cannot see
Begins to sing the beating of my heart
And cheers me.

Hope, like a butterfly’s cocoon just opening
Springs into view
When brambles are pushed aside,
And I discover life again.

And thank the fates
I lasted long enough to do it.
ljm

Sweetly reaching for my hand
A rattlesnake curls up in yours.
Smiling oh-so-carefully
To hide your poison pellet
Delivered with a kiss.

Platitudes and honeyed words
With fishhook barbs inside them.
Lies disguised as candy bars
Offered out with sticky fingers
Mostly crossed behind your back.

Promising that all is peaceful
And there’s no danger to be seen.
Alarms and sirens drown those words
And say my world is burning here,
And sinking in a morass there.

If only words were scimitars
To slash a way to truthfulness
And cut the evil from the hearts
That proclaim love for one and all
And secretly deliver hate.
ljm

H  ow is it possible to have so much hate
A  midst all of those that I’m ordered to love.
T  orn by the need to stay here and fight-
R  eeling from weakness I thought I’d outlived,
E  dging towards a fall I must stop, I’m
D  odging the arrows, to keep keeping on.

F  rightened that I’m not as young or as smart,
O  lder than I ought to be at my age, I’m
R  emembering when I wielded weapons of youth.

M  y  armies of wit were were invincible then,
Y  et now only shadows of warriors past.

E  nemies bumping the sore spots they caused me, with
N  ever a thought or respect for my toil, I
E  nvy their callous neglect of my pain and
M  emorize odes to the loathing I feel.
I   light bonfires of hatred and hope not to get burned
E  scaping through tunnels of madness and fear into
S  afer environs where I can breathe free.
                                  ljm

I’ve been to the shop
to watch it
being made
unchanging and unchanged.
Sorcerers in snow
white helmets,
reading my childhood
and all the places
I have been
with wooden spoons
carved
from Longview timber
seasoned in regression’s oil,
added limpids to the mix.
See through taffy in the candy kettle.
I once gazed
into the window
at everything
I was too young to buy
then spied a nickel
in the rubble of the gutter.
Found a way to dig it out
and went in.
The gutter went in with me.
Sunlight has a way of hiding things
That glitter in the darkness.
Sugar’s haze
obscures so many
arrow signs
but you can
taste it with each breath,
and some is not enough.
How much to eat
Rises with the tides of time
And falls with its forgetting.
Without another penny
there must be some other way
to backtrack
to the longing sated
and find the peanut in the middle.
*ljm

Like a toothpick on a mammoth river,
I have no say in where I’ll go.
I think I know where I’ll end up.

A tiny sliver on a massive torrent-
I will not sink, though I may tangle
With another floating twig  

And find me carried in its direction
Whether that be to the salty ocean
Or washed up on a riverbank.

I’ll fetch up where the current puts me-
There’s no arguing with life
Or the mighty Columbia River.
ljm

Harried, Harassed, Hassled and Hounded-
These are the H-words I work by.

Harpies and Henchmen, Harridans and Heathens-
These are the H-folk I work with.

Hubbub and Hokum and Hurly-burly-
These are the places I do it.

Hoodlums and Hooligans, loaded with Hubris-
These are the clients I deal with.

Heartless and Horrible, Hateful and Hurtful
These are the attitudes around me.

Hopeless and Hapless, Haggard and Helpless-
This is the way I usually feel.

What happened to Happy, and Hopeful and Harmony-
These are the H-words I search for.

Hinder and Hobble, Heckle and Hamper-
These are the Hamstrings that trip me.

Heaven and Harmony, Humor and Honor-
These are the things that I strive for.

Havoc and Hades, Hurt, Hate and Hauteur-
These are the H’s that I have to conquer.

Hope, Help, and Herculean effort-
Is How I will finally get myself Home.
ljm

Sands
Time
Endless force
Eddying beneath me
Moving me against my will
Taking me from that I long for

Down
Deep
Sinking low
Straining ever  upward
Reaching for a perfectness
Losing much and gaining little

Light
Life
Blot away
Journey into darkness
Settle deep my lonesome heart
Here let my anguish slowly lessen

Sleep
Dream
Wishing star
Bathe me in translucence
Memories perfume the air
Lotus bloom on stems of longing

Peace
Rest
Vapeurs thin
Nonexistent valley
Shadow world of gossamer
Blown by winds of truth to frenzy

Wake
Climb
Face the wind
Let it wilt the lotus
Reach toward the icy light
Find a balm to heal the hurting

Look
Grasp
Values great
Pain has served a purpose
Follow paths to beingness
See his guideposts never erring

Be
Aim
Waste it not
That which he has given
Nurture it and make it grow
Seed he laid in fertile garden

Truth
Peace
See it out
Find it in reality
Not in hidden valleys
Recognized my solace stands now.
                      ^^^

Madness moves me
That curtain is
  T  O  R  N
I scattered it
in purple shatters
on the shadow
across the sidewalk.
  from the  moon.
The whippoorwill
   S I N G S
out of tune
to match
a bad
    harmonica and
a rusty piccolo.
The box
that held it all
was auctioned off
    There was no
highest bidder.
The city
        trembles
from the
urgency of need
And none will make
    an offer.
Madness falls in
   L O V E
with unrequited horror
and gives birth
to pandemonium
  which is
marked down eighty-five
    percent
But only if
the flags are      flying.
Outside
comes in from
the cold
through windows
   with no     curtains
stepping over
purple stains
on badly
threadbare carpets
while
    the loom
goes right on
weaving
               *ljm

Thoughts like cobwebs float on streams of consciousness
Looking for a solid theme to land on.
Statements ricochet across the voids of understanding
And bounce off walls of inattention.
Comments sidle under and around the focus of discussion
To hide in disparate agendas.
Declarations skid on slippery reasoning and crash
Into thick barriers of resistance.
Decisions leap frog over moving clock hands
And we all get up and rush away from doing nothing.
Meeting is adjoured.
                  ljm