The Crossing:
Once a place,
Where whistle, rail,
And road converged,
Now a home of
Last farewells,
Where two striped
Gate Keepers,
Sadly bid farewell,
To souls who thought
They might live yet
Another day or two,
Until a crush of steel
Decided otherwise.

We pay homage
To you,
Dear Bob,
Not as misguided,
But as pure evil.
A man brilliant
Enough,
To realize he was
Wrong,
But lie,
While trying to
Understand
Why
His numbers,
Inexplicably,
Did not
Work out,
While boys died.
Not everyone
Can use teenagers
To keep time,
But you did.

Couldn't you tell,
That your data
Were
Junk?
You could command
People to
Collect,
They laughed while
They presented
You crap.
If your models
Could have talked,
They would have
Laughed,
At you.

Reporters,
For whom
Everything is new,
Were sure
That you brought
Systems analysis,
To the
Puzzle Palace.
I guess they missed
World War Two.
You did ensure
It was used,
To build
Many,
Bad,
Weapons.
You get 'A'
For effort,
Professor.

Those dead soldiers' Moms
Applaud you.
They hope to
Meet you in hell,
For another go round.
You somehow thought,
That all of life,
Could be reduced
Numerically.
How bizarre.

In the end,
Your failure
Was not numerical,
But
Philosophical,
Your calibrated responses,
Moved
Not one enemy heart,
As for yours,
You had none.

Those attempting to
Tell you that
You were
Mistaken,
Were helpless,
They might as well,
Have been speaking
Sanskrit to you.
For they spoke in terms of
Morality,
of which
You had none.


When you passed,
No one
mourned,
And
As hard as you
Had tried to buy it,
No one,
Gave you,
Forgiveness.

Scaffolding climbs everywhere,
To help keep the canyons of stone
In repair,
Ancient patricians,
Are now made small,
By newer creatures
Of glass and steel,
Look off in the distance,
See how small we really are,
The avenues run-
Forever,
Broad,
Steep to.
I stare down my chest,
To the pavement,
Hard,
Hard as the hearts of the faceless,
But not like the balding,
Smiling,
Red headed dad,
Who got his son last week,
The same day,
That he got his
AARP card.
I'm off to a dinner
A dinner unlike any
In Syria,
Either Syria.

My love
She rests so quiet,
Where she speaks to me
In silence,
She rests beside
Her favorite place,
She rests in peace,
We put her there,
My other love and I,
We set her down,
Upon her final bed,
And covered her
With softness,
That we might
Remember,
Where she lay.

Will you marry me?
Plus six.
I finally belong
To the dark girl,
With long hair,
On Beacon Street.
And she is mine.
May our hearts beat
As one,
And love define
Our days.

Nature makes a peach,
But man decides just how
That peach will be,
Feel free to graze,
In the supermarket
Of your choice,
But,
If you insist
On the best,
Wait 'til all the others,
Have been finally consumed,
Then proceed,
To a singular and magic place,
Where a special man,
Sells a special peach,
A peach so special
That it ripens on the tree,
Ripens to perfection,
But you must consume it
Straight away.
It's never with us
Longer than two weeks,
But it's a treat
That you'll not want
To miss.

There is an empty world
It sits above our own,
Its silent souls
Reflect to us
A silent warning,
Like a lighthouse on a rock,
Their message,
Barely heard,
Is clear,
“This world,
It loves you not,
Our killers,
They still walk.”
Let their message
Never be forgot.

26 December 2011

Cover me with darkness,
Hold me on the edge,
Let me drift where
I must be,
'Til I can land,
Where e'er I need,
My heart is fully
Broken,
My body aches
From
Stem to stern,
My soul cries out
To let it be,
And bears what sadness
There might be,
Alone,
Within its core.

Some silent
Force,
Must come to me,
To heal me
From within;
I've lost my faith,
In all there is,
Even in
What I can see.
So let me go,
And let me be,
To live life out
In peace,
While free
To breathe
Upon despair,
Until the end
Is clearly seen.

2 January 2012

I cannot find
The end.
Is it somewhere here
On earth?
Could it be a refuge
In this life?
A place of calm
And hope?
A place where love
Might safe exist,
Where hope might shelter
From despair,
How would I know
When I am there,
Could I arrive
While unaware,
And yet enjoy
Its fruits?
We'll see.
Might not hope
Exist alone,
Within there,
Without form,
Intangible,
Upon its own accord?
But holden to
Us all?

To be continued;

I never saw Teddy,
Rudy York was just a coach,
But Fenway was my Mecca
Back when Boston was a
Sad sack team.
I have to laugh,
I traded Yogi,
Traded him,
And Roger Maris
Too,
Traded them for
Tracy Stallard!
What New Englander
Would want a Yank?
Yes Fenway folks
Were not the brightest,
Back before the Sox
Were good.
Now Red Sox nation's
Nation wide,
The Sox are always
In the mix,
After all,
To love a winner,
Isn't strenuous,
I guess.

But,
There was a time,
A half century,
Or so,
Ago,
When,
That legendary jewel,
It didn't seem so small,
At all,
To me,
A kid,
Of only ten.
She was a great,
And green colossus,
Astride Van Ness,
And Brookline Ave.
To get inside,
You'd need your Dad,
And once inside,
She was a mighty
Castle of concrete
And steel,
With boxes for the
Jimmy fund,
Everywhere the eye
Could see,
She was a dark
And dingy cavern,
***** too,
Not much to see,
But when you  walked
Into the sunshine,
There was magic
Everywhere.
The famous sign
In center field,
"Hey Bosox, sock one here,"
And just the color of the grass,
That field was perfect,
Everywhere.
Back then
You could get a ticket,
Any time you wanted,
Just drive right up,
What section,
Please?
But now,
She's a celebrity,
She's all sold out,
The whole year through,
But those of us,
With memories,
Don't need a
Reservation,
For we all recall
The ghosts of Fenway Park.

April is their month.
They've sat,
Patient,
Throughout the winter,
Those sturdy oval buds,
Sometimes cased in ice,
They don't seem
To mind.
Are they awaiting,
Tax time?
These jewels
Keep company with
Their pretty pink
Cousins,
The Redbud.
Why does the dogwood
Ask
For our attention
So?
Perhaps because it
Blooms so early,
When
There is so little else
To see.
Perhaps it is the legend that,
From the poor dogwood,
Came the wood,
From which was fashioned,
The true cross.
More likely it's just,
The timeless beauty,
Born-in beauty,
From long ago,
Needing no
Adornment,
And not a bit
Of pruning.
Touch it with a knife,
You'll invite disease.
Let it grow ***** nilly,
It will give you,
Perfect beauty,
On its own.

Wild,
It sits beneath
The forest cover,
Like a craggy,
Wasted twig,
Dwarfed,
By its bigger cousins.
And then,
Before any others,
That slim and subtle
Beauty
First appears,
As an
Exquisite miniature,
Creamy yellow flowers,
That open,
To bleach themselves white,
And show the
Blood red crosses
At their center.

They are
Gems,
That change,
Day by day,
So leave your camera
Home.
You cannot catch
Their beauty.
Instead,
Imprint the view
Upon your mind.
They'll be back
Next year,
More beautiful
Than ever.

Where do old couches go?
And old TVs?
The ones that weren’t born as HD,
They go into our nearby river,
Sadly,
Along with fish,
But fish in fact are s’posed to be there,
And maybe
Jimmy Hoffa too,
Who ain’t,
To speculate would be unfair,
The river doesn’t say.

I lost my love for thirty years,
But held her close
Within my heart,
And now,
United,
We are seldom
Far apart.
When we are,
It's only space
That separates,
Our souls still touch,
Our hearts beat close
As if as one,
And when once more united,
We can't help but hold each other;
The newness may not wear off
For another thirty years.

For Rose
17 Jul 2012

Scribe my name upon your heart,
I'll scribe your name on mine,
Hold me close within your soul,
Let me know we're bound together,
With a love that's new and old.
Let me hold you when I will,
Stay with me forever,
Let's frolic in this world together,
And when it's over,
Meet once more,
And frolic in the world to come.

the sea broad and dark,
spans the breadth of our romance,
the rain sings your name.

February 14th 2014

It's Valentine's Day again,
But I,
I still remember when,
You returned the call,
And set the journey
In motion.
Just a few calls,
A few notes,
A flight,
A sweater,
And something so much better.
As best friends,
Let us dance 'til the end,
'Til the end of our time,
With our hearts intertwined.
When we are together
Life really is fun,
And surely the best
Is yet to come.
Let's do lunch,
Today!
Or as soon as we
Can dig ourselves out.

Red sky at dusk
A beauty sublime,
Rests on our mountains
For moments in time,
Gone all too soon,
Close your eyes,
Imagine the clouds,
Hanging like blood,
Before your eyes.

The catamount,
It does appear,
From our fair commonwealth
Has disappeared,
It's just as gone
As gone can be.
Just as the state
Environment folk,
They'll tell you
It's extinct in our fair land.
As is the Nittany Lion,
From its home
Of Pennsylvania.
They say the only Nittany Lion left
Is frozen in perpetual leap
Outside the Penn State football field.
And as a proof,
Her moaning call
Is heard no more
Throughout the Pennsylvania mounts.
We've slain those big cats
One and all
From the Allegheny
To the Blue Ridge.
So when a giant cat
Stretched herself full out
Before our car
Just to cross the street
At the time of her desire,
Not one moment sooner,
Nor one moment later,
We might have almost hit a ghost
But she didn't stick around
To tell us who she was.
The great cat speaks not,
But goes about her business,
If she's there,
And if she's not,
What the heck was that
That crossed the road?

Panic walked into the room
As business like as he could  be,
He only shook a few folks hands,
He doesn't really need to,
He mixes well
Without a touch,
And carries with him friends,
Fear lives within his pocket,
And remains behind
When he departs.


He said,
I've come to take you,
Hold on tight
For now,
'Till I abandon you
To something
Worse,
Sometime later in the night.
Hold on
And pray I drop you in the light.
But be on guard,
My touch remains,
When I have gone,
So watch your back.

Dear Jack,
It’s been so long,
Yet we cannot let go,
You are our touchstone,
Our Icon of perfection,
You did so little,
Yet your smile,
Set upon that charismatic face,
Gave to oh so many,
A stunning vision of things
Yet to come -
Perhaps.
Your three short years
Grew in our minds,
To a giant’s legacy that never was,
‘Til you could do no wrong.
Now everyone,
Knave and angel both,
Fight to have you as their own,
But no one knows
For sure,
Just what you might have been.

Dear Jack,
It’s been so long,
Yet we cannot let go,
You are our touchstone,
Our Icon of perfection,
You did so little,
Yet your smile,
Set upon that charismatic face,
Gave to oh so many,
A stunning vision of things
Yet to come -
Perhaps.
Your three short years
Grew in our minds,
To a giant’s legacy that never was,
‘Til you could do no wrong.
Now everyone,
Knave and angel both,
Fight to have you as their own,
But no one knows
For sure,
Just what you might have been.

March silent by me
For I finally sleep.
In life,
They made me march to music,
And those who never wore my colors
Called me hero.
Now,
I'm thankful that
I needn't hear their voices,
For I live within a land
Of eternal sleep,
Where only truth lives,
So we call each other
Only by
Our rightful names.

We'll live at arm's length,
Close by the great monster's den,
And pray for mercy.

If spring is so nice
Why can’t we see no see ums?
Spring peepers don’t care.

Suppose you got a quasar for a pet,
And brought it home,
To play with your pet laser,
But your mice,
They stole them both,
(They got out of their cage,
I don't know how,
But I know they're wicked smart,
You'll see)
Then they ran into a tower,
With the laser and the quasar,
Where you couldn't get them out
Because the laser gave them power,
To keep you far away,
Then they made you bring them cumin,
All the cumin you could find,
Soon the tower was so full,
That there wasn't even one
Indian restaurant in the town,
That could cook a single dish,
Soon the tower got so full
That the mice began to sneeze,
So they knew they'd have to fly
With the laser and the quasar,
To some other place,
Maybe outer space,
Or Greenland,
Or Albania,
Or someplace that I can't spell,
But right now my one good hand can't type,
So I must go,
Sigh,
Bye.

The snow lay hidden,
Waiting to spring an ambush,
A mid March surprise.

Their lives left us,
Not in their own time,
But in a storm
Of others' choosing,
A storm that left a stain,
But not a trace of them.
When we mourn them,
We might wonder
Who their children
Might have been.
Do not pray for them,
Pray for remembrance
Of the deed,
Forgiveness is not
Ours to give,
Let the dead speak,
If they wish.

On we drone,
Another day,
Another death,
We fly on high,
All day,
All night,
We never tire.
We've got the time,
Until we fire,
And we're assured,
It's not a crime.
It's more or less
A righteous act,
Our work,
That is.
We're told in fact,
That when we ****,
It's been approved,
Approved on high,
It couldn't be a
A crime of war.
Death comes right from
A **** List,
Like a – Fatwa,
If you will.
And should you happen
In the way,
It was just your time,
Not a crime,
Just your time.

Clouds shaped like fish bones
Seem to streak
From
One peak
To another,
But they hover,
Slowly dissolving.
When we next pass,
They are but fragments,
Unrecognizable,
Except,
In our thoughts.

We set their air afire,
Just as they'd set our ships
Afire,
So,
With a great killing,
We brought to a stop,
Their killing,
A fairly rapid stop,
Perhaps too fast a stop,
Too fast for some,
For sure,
But who could know,
That these horrendous things,
Would come to pass but once more,
Thankfully.
And now that bell tolls yearly,
Its lonely voice sings
“Never again,”
“We hope.”
Let us be sad For those who died,
But let us not regret.
Their deaths bought life,
For others
Who did not have to fight.
Let revisionists glory in their guilt,
Their guilt is not ours.
We can pay our respects
To Enola Gay,
And to this day
Say “well done.”

Thunder swept the sea,
The sky rained a nation's fate,
Great ships found their graves.

the joy of living,
the dignity of dying,
the will calls the soul.

sadly, death is proud,
i prefer him shy or coy,
my fate in my hands.

If you could train a train,
To travel at the speed of light,
Would it not arrive,
Before
It had even left?
It would put
The passengers,
Into an awful fright,
They wouldn't want,
To ride the rails
For another night  :)

Leave the town;
Not everyone can,
You need a camel,
Or a Land Rover,
(a real one),
And a driver
Who can infer
The road.
Take two spares,
We might be on
The moon's face,
Behind you,
Djibouti,
Ahead,
Rock,
Scrub,
A kind of
Desert.
To be lost,
To be stuck,
Is perhaps,
To die.
Why go?
To see the light;
Light houses
Call us.
It sits alone,
They all do,
This one watches
The Gate of Tears,
Flash-flash it says,
Then it rests,
Then flash-flash,
It works alone,
Its mates
Are ships,
Someday, perhaps,
There will be,
A real road.
For now,
The track is
Half imagined,
And the place?
Unchanged,
Unchanging,
As if we,
Had never come.

How can beauty
Be so fleeting?
Her petals begin
To fall,
Drifting in
The wind,
Before the last
Has even bloomed.
Perhaps she wish'd
She might have been,
Fully dressed.

Race toward the mountains,
Peddle through redbud alley,
Chase the blood red sky.

Pink tears in sunlight,
A cherry tree's too short life,
Beauty flees apace.

Zero four hundred,
Early to wake,
Early to fuel,
The oiler is,
Hmmm...
Where you find it.
Radar will find it,
Only ******'s eye
Will get you
Along side,
In one piece.
Fifty men
Move as one,
Hauling span wires
Ship to ship,
Then,
Hauling hoses
Ship to ship,
Between the ships
The boiling sea,
Calls out its threat,
'Make no mistake,
Lest you be ******
Into my jaws,'
Two hundred tiny feet,
Or less,
Between those ships.
We pump as quickly
As we can,
The sooner we can
Break away,
The sooner we can
End this work,
Back breaking,
Dangerous.
For when it's done,
There's other work
Yet to be done,
Perhaps some chow,
As well.
(We hope there's time)
But most of all,
Our tin can,
Can disconnect,
From this giant
Of an oiler,
Break away,
At thirty knots,
Steam safely on
"Duty assigned,"
Full of oil,
Full of food,
Full of movies,
Full of all
That lets it live,
A full work day,
Is yet ahead.

We grow with passion,
Our only cash crop is rocks,
Want peas? import soil.

Bear hunting is done,
Silence reigns in the mountains,
Case that three-oh-eight.

Snow meanders down,
Winter smiles in its late bloom,
Our first white blanket.

Let joy's bell be mute,
May Stark Silence rule over
What hope we might have.

In memory of the seven men killed in the after fire room explosion in USS Basilone (DD-824) on 5 February 1973

We live in holes,
Each one named,
Bravo One,
Bravo Two,
Bravo Three,
Bravo Four.
There are others,
But none are MAIN,
The rest are AUX.

We work at pressure,
Six hundred pounds,
Eight hundred plus
Degrees,
That's Fahrenheit,
Folks.
People like
To visit
Our world.
Makes them,
Feel special,
They see a world,
They don't dare
Live in,
And they leave,
Before they
Sweat too much.
Come again,
But not too often,
Have a salt tablet.

We're the only sailors,
Who must
Use our gear,
Twenty-four hours
A day.
Try letting the fires
Go out
In the
Boiler.
See what
Happens.
The girls,
Topside,
Would miss their
Movie.
They'd,
Be agitated.
Did we use that
Word?
Well,
Have a salt tablet.

We say that
Down here is where
The real men live,
That all the rest,
Are *******.
It's a lie,
But,
It hides how hard
Life is,
In the
Steam world.

It's six hours
Of watch,
Six hours
Of sleep,
Six hours
Of watch,
Six hours
Of sleep,

Unless,
Something
Needs fixing,
Or
We're refueling,
Or,
We're getting ready,
To enter port,
Or,
Something else
Is happening,
Then there's -
No sleep.
There's no sun
Anyway.
You wanna see
Sun?
Look through
The scope,
At the
Stack gas.

It's a world of
Valves
And,
Burners,
And,
Sight glasses and,
Pumps and,
Pipes and,
Gauges everywhere.
A new guy,
Wonders,
How to learn
Them all.
It's an,
Incomprehensible
Forest.
And then,
You get to
Know it.
Now some other guy,
Is the,
New guy.

It's often a
Rain forest,
120 degrees,
That's Fahrenheit,
Folks.
95 per cent
Humid,
Since you're visiting,
Come help us,
Find
Steam leaks.
But,
Keep your head
Down.
Steam is clear,
You won't
See it,
Before it
Cuts you,
In half.
We'll use brooms,
Instead.
Just wave them overhead,
Along the pipes.
Have a salt tablet.

The steam
Snakes all about
The ship.
They need it
To live.
Not just the
Wake,
But,
Heat,
Light,
Water.
All life,
Comes from
The boiler.
You'd think they'd
Appreciate
Us.

The Navy says,
It's worried about,
Our heat stress,
(It's only 120)
And our hearing,
They want us,
Out of
The heat,
More often,
Nice.
Who will keep
The lights on?
Maybe they'll
Start a new,
“Program.”
Do the paperwork,
And just
Keep us in
The hole.
We've been down here,
So long,
We can't
Hear 'em,
Anyway.
Have another salt tablet,
And go back,
To your regular job,
Topside.

Follow me,
Down a path,
But do not follow
Me too close,
The path grows
Narrow,
Dark,
And rugged,
Soon the width,
Is just for one,
The trees envelop
Overhead,
Though bare
Of leaves,
They crowd out
All the light,
'Til any sense of
Up or down,
Begins to vanish
From our sight,
Then
From our minds
It’s gone as well.

The gravel under foot
Grows large,
Our footing
Less than sure,
The ground is new,
The atmosphere
Undone,
Then you must go,
Return,
Back to your world,
I shall go to mine,
My new world,
It's a place where I
Will have no need,
No need of hope
No need of love,
Where I may finally
Rest.
Not the rest
Of the just,
But just the rest
Of those most tired.
Most tired of all
That weighs us down,
That pins us to
The desperation
Of life.

We occupied The Willard,
Yes we did,
So over the top,
We might have fed Djibouti
For a week.
The guest of honor
Deserved it,
But,
We might have fed
Somalia
For a month,
Don't get me wrong,
If you've got it,
You deserve it,
But,
Give it away,
And it becomes
More valuable,
Try it,
It tastes better.

the earth makes us free
we respond by wanting stuff
which holds us in chains

copyright 2011 by gary l. misch

(No, I'm not apologizing to Thomas Hardy)

The more he thought of it
The more it seemed,
He shouldn't even be here,
Sitting in a chair,
Beside a lamp,
Enjoying food
That tasted
Nearly home cooked,
Well,
Eating it,
If not enjoying it,
Musing on his last encounter
Ever
With fear.
Why am I  here?
Why is he not?
He wasn't old enough
To shave,
Was he?
Had time and opportunity
Been different by a bit,
It might be me,
Cold and forgotten
In a pool of blood,
Never hearing that
My son had walked,
And he'd have been back home
With his Mom,
Safe and snug,
All ready to **** again.
Perhaps that boy
Was old enough to shave,
After all.

My soul bursts with love
I will love you for all days
I will wax joyous

Where did myself go?
Have I only the past left?
My youth beckons me.

I looked for you,
Before you were,
Even Born,
Looked in vain,
I gave up,
Before you,
Were you,
And marched on,
That's what people
Do,
Marry,
Live,
Grow old,
And now,
Too late,
I've found you,
Me old,
You young,
I can only watch,
In loving sadness,
It rates a tragic
Haiku,
But I don't do,
Haiku,
Guess I'll just
Watch.