This simple act
has become a pact
I have with the kitchen floor
I sweep it several times a day
because it’s keeping score
It knows when I sweep it often
It knows when I sweep it not
And when it feels neglected
it gets slippery in spots
I have many other things to do
than Tango with the broom
but, my floor would rather see us dance
all across the room

I'd like        
to float on cotton
amidst the clouds
up high
Sleeping through
all the world's noise
as if  
it were a lullaby

Time waits for no one

No matter the misery one keeps

So, wake up if you dare

From unavailing despair

For the keeper cares not if you sleep

I make faces
At my cat
And she doesn’t know
What to think of that
I stick out my tongue
And wave my hands
And I don’t think
She understands
I do a little dance
And sing a song
But, she’s too stubborn
To play along
She just winks at me
And turns her head
I think I’ll try
The dog instead

To walk in the woods in Autumn
is to feel it’s tired old soul
As it prepares for another long nap
the seasons have taken their toll
The leaves wave goodbye to their neighbors
as they harmlessly
float to the ground
There isn’t enough water
running by the old mill
to move the wheel around
It gives me pause for reflection
of how I’m in awe of it all
Living on the cusp of Winter
as everything slows to a crawl

The anxious face
sketches like a mothman
with two fiery red eyes
amidst a flurry of large violent lines of black ink
that look more like the claw marks
of an animal
desperate for escape

To live only for those moments
greased with cake and champagne
is to miss all the precious time in between

Marriage is an emulsion
Of love and truth
Not a solution

Never one
to hold his tongue
the devil child within me
transforms the light breeze of peace
into a tempest of chaos
blowing storms over
my sea of tranquility
I need to give him
a warm loving embrace
of understanding
but all I want to do
is slap the brat’s face

Wear not
the irate head to bed
‘Spite the words
that have been said
Anger is a state of mind
that leaves your slumber
in such a bind
So, in the interest
of better sleep
Eat yours words
and not a peep

… until the break of day

Every summer about July or August
I imagine a cold, steady rain
on a winter’s night
The watery glare of a corner street light
gives the appearance
of an impressionist painting
The cold pavement of the street
shines as if drying from a coat of varnish
I yearn for the sight of steam
rising from my breath
A hat on my head
and my coat collar up around my ears
Uncomfortable enough to require a brisk pace
to warm the slight chill in my bones

I was told
that we weren't meant
to live in fear
of dying
We evaporate
into the wind
like water from sheets
that are drying
We float on clouds
in bleached-white gowns
waving to our former towns
Going where we won't wear frowns
or ever feel like
crying

Every person on this earth
Has a truth
And when that person dies
That truth does not die with him
For better or for worse
It lives bent and twisted in the shadow
Of someone living

Sometimes taking
Sometimes giving

They come to you
At night with lies
To feast on shallow
Breaths and sighs
May God heed
Your prayers with speed
And soothe the child’s
Bewildered cries

A silent scream of terror
from a frozen face of fear
Although a bit scared
he couldn’t help but stare
at the painting on the mirror

From 3 o’clock till
half past 4
is when the monster
is at your door
If you are careless
And let him in
that’s when the nightmare
will begin
He’ll shave your head
to leave it bare
and he will be back
to enter there
Then you will know
there’s no such thing
as a harmless dream

Anger is at the root
of all that upends them
It is the very marrow
of their frustrated despair
Armed against a world
that cannot befriend them
Only because
it doesn't know that they're there

Can a shadow
be seen in the darkness?
Is a tear felt
in the sea?
Is there a sound
when no one’s around
or does a tree
fall in secrecy?

Leaning in a dimly lit doorway
he raises the bottle to his lips
Gulping down the last of that cheap wine
he contemplates the world
and decides that all have been born
into an intensity of need
It’s edge so sharp
that to escape from it
is to feel a sweet relief
He has found that the bottle
can dull the blade
and this is why it
has become his friend
It keeps him company
in those dark places
where he hides
from the lathe

Music from the piano
on a rainy day
A note for all the raindrops
and each thought of my dismay

Music from the piano
lightens up the gray
I rely upon my friend
to drive the blues away

Wise man say
that a valiant effort
can never be anything less
than a righteous failure

After the grueling anger match
between God, the world, and I
I offer this lame explanation
before I begin to sigh
"God, I have to tell you
before you show me the door
I haven't blamed you for anything
that I haven't whipped myself for"

Tightly bound to folly are we
In as many ways
as there are human fears and desires
And sooner or later
all we want in this world
is to be free

Sadness won’t deny the truth of feeling
But allows for tears to be tasted
and to know the truth of healing
is that the tears are never wasted

His is the face
of a heavy obligation to stay alive
For he carries the weight
of the dead
and they call to him
from their unmarked graves

As he stares out the window
Death slowly moves in for the ****
Ignoring the lively cigarette ash
lying upon the sill
And another drink
helps him sink
even more into his empty will

A great deal of art
is hidden from the eye of the beholder
Left unfinished
until awash in the glow
of an inspired observer

All the world's
ears burn with sound
tongues burn with smells
bodies burn with lust
and our minds burn with greed, hatred, and delusion
The world is on fire
and we are it's arsonists!

There be a time
When old St. Peter
Decides your fate
For all eternity

So, ask the Man
To stop the meter
On the all the sins
He be charging thee

Dream blue skies
Of all the seasons
Breathe free the green
The fields of Spring

Live your life
For God’s good reasons
But, teach yourself
To dance and sing!

There’s an old salty ******
at the back of a ship
that’s sinking into the sea
I can hear the words
from his stiff upper lip
as he sadly recites to me
You can’t save me
You can’t save me
So, turn your eyes away
I will sleep
In the cold, dark deep
and you will see another day

There is living
without living
and two kinds of dead
Please don’t put me
in the grave
before the eulogy
is said

Easy to be smitten
by a puppy and a kitten
Hard to turn away
when both are at play
For it’s not once
but twice we are bitten

A violin
for the absence of flowers
A cello
for the snow-sprinkled trees
An oboe
for the bird that missed the trip south
And silence
for Winter’s dis-ease

I am a heathen
who just went vegan
and now I have nothing to eat
I have nothing but juice
and now I'm reduced
to searching for food in the street
they found me at dawn
on somebody's lawn
seasoning the boots on my feet
and to my dismay
I heard the cops say
boots are not what vegans can eat!
help me.

These powerful men
Who call themselves men!
Are nothing more
Than a deceitful blend
Of cowardice and hate
And then it’s too late
For us to discover
What they are in the end

Frozen there
by a tundra stare
No one really truly cares
what his reasons
for this careless wandering
All are not hospitable
for they are but miserable
in the throes of squandering


another precious day

I have no clothes
left to wear
They’re on the floor
because I left them there
They won’t get washed
lying on the floor
So, I guess I’ll stink
forever more

As I stand beneath
this beautiful tree
I ask it's limbs
to hug me tender
and raise me up
so that I may see
the color of Autumn
in all it's splendor

Better dead
than disillusioned
wishing so desperately
for light to get in
Forever cursing
the comfort of darkness
Dare speak the devil
who is tired of sin

Sometimes I wonder about an auto-immune disease of the mind
when, at the slightest urging,
I can attack myself
with a such a barrage of self-criticism
It’s no small wonder I get so mean
I’m all strapped in
the self ***-kicking machine

Perhaps, it is enough
To cope with the noise
Of one’s own random, undisciplined thoughts
Never mind the madness
Of others

For one
His own mountain
For one
His own stream
The peace
To wash over
The mind’s
Empty screams

Beware of the employment of hate
For there is no target
unworthy of it's attention
and it abides by no rules
of common decency or sense

Carried by the charged breath
of an ever expanding universe
Time flies into tomorrow
on the wings of itself

Fall reminds me of the evening
It flows into the Winter's night
Springtime is tomorrow's dawning
of the Summer's enduring light
A year, a day
Who's to say
how much time
we have to play
and revel in each season's sweet delight

Maybe it’s those
closed pores in your heart
you are mistaking
for a few slivers of light
from God

May I not use
the air in my lungs
to spread strife from my mouth
and loud poisonous tongue
Give me strength to endure
the other side of my silence
and not burden my brother
with screams of defiance

Where my world
meets their world
I caught a glimpse today
A precious scene
of does and fawns
and the fawns had come to play
Behind my kitchen window
I dared not make a sound
But then, I think they noticed me
and were gone in leaps and bounds

The world cares not
how much of it's weight
you are willing to carry

Nearly all the leaves have fallen
and the trees look lonely and bare
When Winter moves in
they will look so thin
standing in the cold air
I hope that they will be sleeping
as warm as the cat in my lap
and in the Spring
the birds will sing
to wake them
from a long winter’s nap

like
a monk’s brilliant mosaic
of colored sand
inspired by God
and then gone
with the wave of his hand
art may capture one
of beauty’s glorious
but fleeting moments
and ease the pain
of its stubborn impermanence