My father bid me, “When you can,
Try to act like a strong fellow,
Always take it like a man.

Things will not go as you plan,
Try like a boy not to wallow,”
My father bid me, “when you can.”

Advice before real trial began,
Advice preparing for tomorrow.
“Always take it like a man.”

There were times I wished I’d ran,
I never run because, “I will follow,”
My father bid me, “when you can.”

His father taught him this same ban,
“Never kneel and never swallow,
Always take it like a man,

When you’re restrained by some man’s hand,
And you are made to bite the pillow,”
My father bid me, “When you can,
Always take it like a man.”

The sky is a greenish-grey with ominous clouds in the distance
Marring our view of the horizon. My eyes followed the phone lines
Up and down, up and down
Until I became nauseated.
The fear we feel -when the headlights of passing cars pierce the darkness is Indescribable.
Fools use the light of torches to find their way in darkness.
They need to shun the light to find their way to darkness.
They do not know that it is only in darkness they can find the truth and are not
Dazzled by the light in their lies.
We are as afraid of the light as they are of the dark.
                                                           ­                We must all embrace the dark.
Dark leaches passion for conflict-
          War, politics, religion.
Dark takes away your humanity,
                    but it’s a good thing.
Dark symbolizes death - but it’s a good thing
                   Soulless like a body at death
                                             Should we Despair?
Light is bad.
Emotion,
    rage,
       conflict,
           heady confusion
Desperation to find something, but what?
                                                       THE DARK.
People afraid of the dark,
                                           afraid to find peace.
Step into the dark,
Step into peace!
                                                          ­                                                      Healing.
Pe­ople seek the dark,              -Are they afraid of life?
They seem like living things, like sentient beings.
“Neon light haunts us.
            -Too bright!
Telephone lines teeming with power, buzzing their warning.”
Dark brings silence                              --brings peace.
Cool breeze across our faces wipes the anxiety and tension from our brows.
Behind these clouds in the mist
Bodies cling to themselves, waiting for Blessed Darkness to complete its
Work in removing that    violent-  evil-  hateful-   oppressive-    light from them.
We join them, those bodies in the mist. We have escaped our oppressors so we lie
Together, huddled on the ground, and serenely wait for the Darkness to -

Release us.

it was in the year 1901
when I stopped at Gustav's
from the raging storm
in the street of Paris
i looked up in the morning sky
blocked by the unfinished building
stood long and tall
in the same spot where
we used to lie under the shade
of a sycamore tree
oh im drifting since you walked away
the sound of rain
and the silent pain
im waiting for a clear day
to take my baggage for the next train

He would run to his house, emergency or not
And they would go to Lake Erie to bathe in April,
They would watch the seasons go by in the water,
hijack golf carts from the course nearby
And cruise around the neighborhoods
Millennium falconing it through suburban
Michigan, dubbing it The Night We Took Down
The Empire
And eventually they would tucker out and
Afternoon on the asphalt, cul-de-sac, kissing
Waiting for the Detroit to catch up to the sun
They dreamed of places to go
And he would often say Where?
And his response would often be
Anywhere;

Will you stop pouring paint into my ears while I’m asleep
The dreams are nice but I have to address the pigeons
perched on the window in the morning
what are these you tuck inside ice cream sandwiches
They taste like Indio during spring
Let’s go to the coast and have the ocean temp us with freedom
Like it used to
Remind me of the clouds, untouchable to everyone except fireworks
And the children who light them, even if it’s only for a second
I suppose I can’t stop you from painting inside me
Just be careful of the water lilies you left
Pour all the colors inside me, I supposes
Feed me to seagulls, they’ll **** me out somewhere over Nantucket
And some tourist will say
*wow!, that lighthouse is so colorful

sitting in heavy traffic one day, 4-way stop
radio on, listening to the DJ describe
the excitement of broadcasting live
from a south side *******
between songs
giggly ****** screech in high pitched
dog whistle voices
trying to entice me
into meeting wild red heads
georgous brunettes, ***** blondes
yellow, then red, then slowly traffic
moves on
continuing the maze
blockades block, jackhammers
tear up half the street, change lanes
the heat of asphalt, a constant barrage
of noise
straining, amplifying
I turn a ***** off in mid-squeal
looking around I realize
I had arrived
this was the world of grown-ups
I so desperately longed for in my youth?
no bat mizvah, no tribal rite of passage
but if I'm lucky
I'll make that green light

Chautauqua I
lying in a field of tan the sun hits my back
I see a shadow of me or am I merely the shadow in this scene
The wind inhales and exhales
breathing at its own pace I can feel its calmness
Nature's unorderliness does have its own sense of pattern
the blades of straw yield to the wind without any hint of defiance
I am the only one that stands apart
out of defiance I decide not to bend
under all the straw hides the mud
makes me aware of
how wet the ground is under my boney ****
Chautauqua II
stopping to smoke a cigarette
I notice the vast difference in landscape
from the northern and southern views
the heat of the sun requires i take off my coat
and I allow
the wind to control the change in temperature
nature constantly surprises different beats various patterns
tiny minds
always try to find
sense in randomness
Chautauqua III
I, too, am on a chautauqua of some sort
this journey a quest for fulfillment
many seek it few obtain it
the given clues are false society's road markers
get me lost in wrong directions
the drummer
who marches out of step
not following the same beat
is blamed
no one ever thinks
to find fault with the beat itself
lying in a field of tan I begin to find my way

My attic's full
Of Thank You's
That can't keep out
The cold,
But rafters
Hang with laughter
To warm me
When I'm old.

My basement's full
Of Pleases,
Poor fuel for the furnace,
But air vents
Carry welcomes
To keep us cool
Or warm us.

The shed is shelved
With If's and Buts
And jars of
Maybe bolts;
The fasteners
Of family ties,
The glue
Of hearts and souls.

Search the garage,
Open cupboards,
Lift the sideboard lid;
Step into closests,
Check under stairs,
You'll find them everywhere.
We use them freely,
Need them dearly,
Those small words
Sound so good.