Her eyes are every color
under the sun, and then some-

mostly flecks of golden
kansas wheat and earthy brown-

and when they are green
- i've seen mountains grow
and valley scenes below

-sometimes gray as if they know
winter is coming, slow

-but when they're blue, so blue-
water wells at the fate of the sioux,
and the broken bird's egg, a dog
with three legs, and a sky sky-blue

- mostly, she has kansas in her eyes.

ah

you ask what would i do different

if i could change the past



i cannot change it yet look to the future

to have more care and education for all

folk to understand have empathy

be kind

& let us keep it simple



maybe the creatures have good ideas

& go to bed when dark ; don’t destroy

the earth

Missing
are the words
to properly send forth
into the beyond,  the abyss,
The netherworld , your soul,
Sweetness,
Be they lost or never thought
of,  absent from the tableau,
any kind remiss,
which mortal souls,
besides the Bard,
have no words for,
are what
I wished to write down,
as your fitting
Eulogy.
But
I have not words
For.
Lie in peace.
Dear.

Said the sea to the shore “you don’t love me anymore
All the good times seem like long forgotten chores
While sunshine ***** my waters making rain
I’ll visit other shores where I have lain
Make trees and grass and flowers grow again
Make harmony with clouds the sky I lend
Yet your sandy walk I will forever tend
Though you forget it’s time itself I bend”

Said the shore to the sea “you truly take me wrong
We will touch throughout eternity in song
Though moonlight is the mate for which I long
We’ll touch your tides like members of your tong
Make swirling currents beautiful and strong
For time is but the mask where we belong”

Said the sea to the shore “take comfort in my lust
For I turn even iron and steel to rust
Like the oceans of night’s sky I will remain
To touch your soul with yet a new refrain
That we may yet be lovers once again”

A NAME BY ANY OTHER. . .

She smiles in Russian.
"What's your name?" I ask her.
"Is Tina!" she laughs.

"Ah...Tina!"
"No not..Tina!"
"Istina!. . .it means...the Truth."

she winks
slinks as if she's
in inverted commas

her eyes the colour
of an ocean
now green now blue

hidden inside
her smile
(the kiss )

she disappears 'round the
corner leaving in the air
a perfect perfume replica of her

the grand piano
sits in its silence
dreaming of music

I know boys
I used to be one
almost as bad as they come,
but I knew as I grew that
decency is the best currency,

now I'm antique
and
can't see for toffee
if
that doesn't stop me,
stop me.

Crisp is in the mountains,
Not kin with the sea,
Empty roads,
Not filled with busy bees,
Blank land forever reaching,
Not buildings forever creeping,
Wind is our sound,
Not sirens that can always be found,
Farm land is our job,
Not something you can rob,
Our sweat and our blood go into the dirt
Not by force, but by our work,
You see a potato, we see home,
Not some random dinner which you can let go,
I know you think the apple is great,
But it has a lot on it's plate,
And I'm sure it doesn't care for you,
As much as this warm potato stew,
Which was grown here in Idaho,
just for me and you...