Come and listen to my story about a con named Don
A poor Manhattaneer, barely kept his family out of pawn,
And then one day he was launderin’ some coin,
And up through the ground come some rubles and crude.

Oil that is, black gold, Russian tea.

Well the first thing you know ol’ Don’s a millionaire,
The kinfolk said "Don move away from there"
Said "Mother Russia is the place you ought to be"
So they loaded up the jet and they moved to DC.

D@#$%&bag Central, that is. Swampy pools, tea partyers.

Well now it's time to say good-bye to Don and all his kin.
And we would like to thank you folks fer kindly droppin’ ‘em.
You're all invited back next week to this locality
To hear a heapin’ helpin’ of their conspiracy.

Jail time that is. They’ll set a spell, take their shoes off.

They’re goin’ away now, y'hear?

Someone once said
that we are drawn to the sea

because the sea changes
and the light changes
and the ships change

but the ocean is constant
in all of us

its salt is in our blood
in our sweat
in our tears

We all came from the sea
and when we go back

to swim
to sail
to see

We leave behind
who we once were
and find each other

again
beyond the far horizon

They came
from the west
when the sea
was still a coastline
and the sabre tooth tiger
roamed the land alongside
the wooly mammoth

For millenia they arrived
even as the coastline
became a bridge
and then a stepping stone
and then the sea

They came to find
an unknown and distant
but beckoning and certain
patch of earth where
their lives would matter
and their destiny
would be determined
by their own hands

They found new ground
to build their homes
where they lived
within their means
and their needs
and flourished
alongside others
by understanding
that their own way of life
would be secured
by respecting others
and that war
is too high a price
for more

In time they came
from the east
and it is in this land that
those who sought a better life
traveled in opposite directions
to find their journey's end

They shared a common vision
fueled by purpose
and determination
to live in freedom guided
by their hearts and minds
unchained by tyranny
or intolerance
and it is in this land
that we will gain
what freedom brings

X and Y and Z
are spatial coordinates
in Three Dimensions

T is a point
in time --
the Fourth Dimension

S is speed
from one point
in time
to another --
the Fifth Dimension

It all began
with injustice
when the innocence
of a child was stolen
and set you floating
like a butterfly
to sting
Liston
Patterson
Frazier
Foreman
and so many others
who failed
to knock you down

But when your wings
were clipped
you stood
like a man
and given the choice
between jail or war
you chose justice
and won your
greatest battle

by unanimous decision

He rises every day
before the sun,
thinking about
the people who will come,

What maladies they bring,
what aches and pains,
what ailments and sorrow,

He wonders
what there is
inside of him,
and if there is
inside of him,

Something
that can bring comfort to
the people who will come.

Yet when they arrive,
one by one,
or in twos or threes,
or maybe more,

He doesn’t question
who he is,
or isn’t,
or what he can
or cannot do,

He simply greets
the people when they come

And lets the way
find him,
the way that touches life
in every one he sees.

We bomb

hospitals
schools
police stations
sleeping children

and people
who we call
"collateral damage"

while chasing elusive
"high value targets"

while missing stationary
protected non-targets

oil fields
refineries
banks
arms dealers

and others who profit
from the insanity
they fuel

When snowmelt
from the highest peaks
cascades into valleys
below, it rushes down
arroyos, leaping over
boulders, circling
round eddies,
and settles into
lakes and pools
that echo
the azure sky

Along the way,
it finds itself
in blades of rising
grass, on barren
meadow floors

and in the roots
of ancient trees, that
sip no more than
they need to fill
their budding leaves

They emerge slowly,
from dormant slumber
stretching, like monarch
wings unfolding, giving
homage to the sun

And then they bloom,
in vibrant multicolored
celebration of the
renaissance declaring,
the arrival of a new day

And they give sustenance
to the twigs and branches
and the trunks, whose
toes reach deep into
the soil, and they
give themselves
to winter's spring

And they give themselves
to the fleeting wind

Santayana said,
"Those who cannot
remember the past
are condemned
to repeat it"

but did not mention
that today
is tomorrow's past

the Lotto

I bought a Lotto ticket
on the day my child was born

After months of
hope and trepidation
research and preparation
practice and anticipation
dreams and realization

After hours of labor
intense and slow
expanding
contorting
pushing
blowing
crying

My wife gave birth

our child
our life
our future
our union

After days of rest
we went home
and down the road
that he would lead

After days I checked
the numbers
on the ticket
and they matched

the bundle in my arms

There above his shiny baldy head,
a long and winding comb-over,
is it white, orange or red?

A cap is perched with Krazy Glue
to keep it in its place,
or is it there to keep his head
from floating into space?

He spews blither blather
and trumpets nonsense
to wild applause
and cheer

at a raucous party
where tea is spiked
with fear

Fate becomes the bitter night,
devours the Dream
bereft of sight,

betrays the Innocent

Who watches still
the Stars that fall
upon the sill.

And yet within
a Spark alights
in search of Meaning
to enflame

the Passion requisite,

that burns with raging Fury
at its Core,
and shreds all contradiction
with its with Scorn

till nothing stands
but might of Will,

Defeats the foe
who kept us still.

There are a bunch of peeple
who seem to think it's fun
to get together and have a party
so they can watch each other
*** on America

They are rude and they're crude
and they're disgusting and lewd
and they make a big mess when
they puddle where they huddle

But that's OK
because this is America
where we all have the right
to our own beliefs,
even if they are stupid,
and to fight for our causes
in our own ways

and as causes go
they are just a splash
in a teacup

Besides, they can't help it
because they have tiny brains
and tiny wee wees
and don't realize
that mostly
they are just
******* on
themselves

He put the moon in my hand
     long before I knew
          the measure of its weight

          It felt like almost nothing
     as if floating
above the reach
          of my fingers
    

               It had no special features
          to reward my wandering eyes
     as they continued on elsewhere

And there seemed to be no reason
     to keep it in my grasp
          so I soon returned it
               into my father's hand

                
                       But afterward I felt it
                resting in my palm
          growing heavy and then fading
       in phases without sequence
or boundaries of time

Barely perceptible
     like shadows pulling forward
          it guides me still

               Leading me past emptiness
          lifting me past hope
     rising highest in the darkest hours

I see its face again

He put the moon in my hand
     long before I knew
          the measure of its weight

          It felt like almost nothing
     as if floating
above the reach
          of my fingers
    

               It had no special features
          to reward my wandering eyes
     as they continued on elsewhere

And there seemed to be no reason
     to keep it in my grasp
          so I soon returned it
               into my father's hand

                
                       But afterward I felt it
                resting in my palm
          growing heavy and then fading
       in phases without sequence
or boundaries of time

Barely perceptible
     like shadows pulling forward
          it guides me still

               Leading me past emptiness
          lifting me past hope
     rising highest in the darkest hours

I see its face again

In the end
your'e there,

So there you are.

There is nothing like it
all different
and all the same

a splash in a river
after the pouring rain

the flow from a tap
and bubbly champagne

a drip drip drip leak
and steam from a flame

the pulsing beat
of the blood in your veins

It's there in your eyes
when you laugh with joy
and cry from pain

it's there when you thirst
whether body or soul

The sound of water
all different
and all the same

I’m on my way
to see the Devil

I’m almost there
I’ll be there soon

‘Cause what I need
ain’t in Heaven

Got to sell my soul
to ease this pain



It’s been a long
and troubled journey

And all my roads
have been dead ends

But I go on
takin’ on

Whatever comes
with the turning day

I go on
takin’ on

What comes along
with the turning day



I lost my love
a long time ago

Chasing what
I still don't know

When I looked back
all I saw was black

Every good thing was gone
and she was too


So now I'm on my way
to see the Devil

I'm almost there
I'll be there soon

'Cause what I need
ain't in Heaven

Got to sell my soul
to ease this pain

Then I’ll head down
a new direction

Until I find
my love again

And when I do
I’m gonna face the Devil

I'll break that hold
and free my soul



Then we’ll go on
takin’ on

Whatever comes
with the turning day

We'll go on
takin’ on

What comes along
with the turning day

Along the river's edge
a figure bends
to dip his earthen pots
into its vital flow

they sip the precious liquid
shimmering and crystalline
like diamonds floating
above the eclipse of the sun

they become transformed
from dormant vessels
wearing the dull
pallor of mud
to vibrant cisterns
radiating the glow
of polished jade

they breathe away
exhaustion
in frothy currents
rushing
past swollen lips

to join the constant stream

till he bows low
and receives their treasure
suspended from a wooden frame
with frayed and twisted rope
solidified not yet petrified
soaking yet and squeezing still
the moisture dripping
from their fill

he lifts the wooden frame
upon his shoulders
and keeps its balance
with his arms
his back strains
his legs straighten
as they raise their heavy load

he looks up
with eyes set deep
beneath his furrowed brow
thick parchment skin
and thistled hair
are all that shield him
here and now

he sees the road
that he will take
this time around
and sets one foot
before the other

away from solid ground

he goes to bring
to those who
find him
the lading
in his care

he goes to meet them
in that place

past faith
past dreams
past hope

He was chomping on a dog
a chili dog to be exact
when he heard a crunch
and felt a pain that seemed
unusual to his lunch

So with all the grace
that he could muster
he spit out all the dog
and the chili and the mustard
then smiled a toothless grin
when in the chili he could see
a bicuspid mixed therein

He had been waiting for this day
to the point where almost all
his nerves had frayed and
more than all his hair had grayed

But now he knew for certain
there would be no final curtain
for at least another act
because his bicuspid
had given way
to his third set of teeth

Momentum
must have assumed control
silently and unannounced
a natural spirit invoked
by sparks we cast
as we scraped past all
unyielding foes

before we found
the fading end
of sheer will
and determination

Captive to our struggles
and the numbing victories
that enabled us to reach beyond
the unseen edge of who
we would become

We came across
the settling dust
and gazed upon
the unfamiliar
serenity of endless sky
embracing a still
and unspoiled land

If I had all the time in the world,
I would accomplish amazing things.

I could climb Mount Everest
Many times,
Starting from my bedroom
And even in my sleep.

I could learn a hundred foreign languages
And make up a hundred more,
Or teach everyone to understand each other
No matter what words they hear.

I could build cities with vitality and care
For all people who live in them,
For a lifetime,
Or a day.

My deeds would be
Of biblical proportions,

Or better yet
Of astronomical dimension,

Or better yet
Of infinite importance,

Since I would have unlimited time
to venture past all boundaries

Beginning with my own

Even if I hadn't taken my first step
Until today.

Or better yet,
after my nap tomorrow.

If the last place
you look
is where
you find things

Maybe
you should
look there
first

Tiny was a terrible terrorist.

First, he was tiny.  
Then, he was terrible.  

Whenever he wanted to terrorize anybody,
he would say, "Hey, look at me!  I am a terrorist!"
So people would look.  

But because he was so tiny, they couldn't see him.
Not right away.  

First, they saw Tom cheating on Mary.
Then they saw Susan dumping Harry
and Lisa buying clothes.  Lots of clothes.

They saw Billy Bob pretending to be Bobby Sue
and the IRS targeting You Know Who.
They heard Lisa cry to her mom,
and Joey getting yelled at by his dad,
but they couldn't find Tiny,
and they were really sad,

Because Tiny changed his name to Tim,
and nobody knew it was him.

Why is the sky so blue?
          To match your eyes

Why are roses so red?
          To match your lips

Why is the ocean so deep?
          To match our love

Why do cows pass so much gas?
          To many questions

Long may you roam . . .

i usually start
with the e string
at the bottom
number 1 and mostly
with a hum

and sometimes pick
the 2 fret on the d
then octavate
for fun

but often i just
twist the pegs
whichever way i feel
and let each string
sing out its name

while my fingers
slip and slide and
pluck and play
whatever tunes
will catch
the rhythm
of the day

Twenty three
hours of Hell
used to be

worth just one
hour of Heaven

But now

Twenty three
hours of Heaven
don't seem to be

worth even one
hour of Hell

I passed by a hospital the other day
it had a sign that said "No emergency services"
above bold block letters proclaiming
"URGENT CARE"

I wondered how that could be
how can an emergency not be urgent?
doesn't a life or death situation require
the most urgent care?

And then it occurred to me
that care is always urgent
and if given constantly
there would be

No emergencies

I hear the
thumpetathumpetathumpeta
of chopper blades struggling
with an angry sky

And am somehow drawn
to a faceless stranger
once leanmeanandnineteen
lying in a field a world
away from where
he used to play
with ball and glove
on summer days

A rivulet of red
has pooled around him
and he is strangely numb
after cold and fear have
squeezed his ragged body
of whatever will remained
after his final battle

But he is not alone
for we are there
to hear his name
and see his face
and watch with him
the settling dust
reveal the evening sky

The sirens were no match
For the pounding in my ears,
Or the hurried breaths I gulped
To exhale nervous bursts of air

Into the lungs of one
Who gave life to me

My eyes were no match
For the scene when they arrived,
Their uniforms obscured my vision
As it began to blur,
And colors slid past shapes
Like views through vintage glass

And though I couldn't see him,
I knew that he was there

My breath still in his lungs

Each day on the TV
I watch as the newspapers die
I say to myself
"You're about to go blind"

To have a country like this
Should be a dream come true
Out of all the nations in the world
We have democracy
　
So is it just my imagination
Running away with me
Or is the freedom of our nation
Running away from me?
　
Soon I'll be married
But I won't be employed
I'll dream about a home in the city
But there's none I can afford

I ask you
Am I losing it all?
This American dream
Is it too good to be true?
　
So is it just my imagination, once again
Running away with me
Or is the freedom of our nation
Running away from me?
　
Every night, in e-mails that I send,
"Dear Congressman please
Don't take my voice away from me
Or I will surely die"

Ooh, their speeches assure me
When they appear on TV,
I hear their concerned sympathy,
But in reality, they could care less about me
　
And is it just my imagination, once again
Running away with me,
Or is the freedom of our nation
Running away from me?

I once had it and I can't forget it,
Just my imagination
Running away from me
Just the freedom of our nation
Running away from me

I once had it and I can't forget it
Was it just my imagination?

It is always
the one next to you

the one on the left
the one on the right

the buddy
the brother
the man

who you may love
or never know

but will give your life
to save
in horrifically pure
survival's fight

not for god
not for country
not for way of life

but for the one
on the left

and the one
on the right

When Johnny comes marching home again,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
We'll send him back for another tour
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Old men will cheer while young boys fight
The ladies will cry alone at night
And we'll all feel safe until
Johnny comes home again.

The old church bell will peal with joy
Hurrah! Hurrah!
When Johnny kills another boy,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The village will be blown away
The roses won't see another day,
And we'll all feel safe until
Johnny comes home again.

Get ready for the Jubilee,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
Our gasoline costs less than three,
Hurrah! Hurrah!
The laurel wreath is ready now
To place upon his casket shroud
And we'll all feel safe until
Johnny comes home again.

Let love and friendship on that day,
Hurrah, hurrah!
Grieve as we send him away,
Hurrah, hurrah!
And let each one mourn some part,
When beats no more the warrior's heart,
And we'll all feel safe until
Johnny comes home again.

When last we danced
in dark of night,
no moon, no stars
no other light

Than your eyes
to catch my own


When last we walked
along the shore,
no earth, no sun
and nothing more

Than your hand
to catch my own


When last we lay
upon the ground,
no laugh, no cry
no other sound

Than the whisper
of your heart

To catch my own

The sea came rolling in,
On beads of foam and glass

It licked the grainy floor,
And chased us to the sand

We turned 'round and laughed
To mock its reaching lips,

Until a tidal wall
Came tumbling upon us,

Grasping our knees,
Curling our toes,
Stiffening our spines,

As it suprised us
With swiftness and with cold

Then just as quickly it retreated,
Hoping to take its prize
But we stood still and steadfast,
Digging our feet into the shore,

While the ocean's edge rushed past us,
To regroup,
And renew the chase
Once more

"Not today!" we shouted,
With victory in our eyes,
As relief turned to defiance,
And truth returned to lies

Perhaps tomorrow
We will dive into the crashing waves,
And spread our limbs
To cool ourselves
From fires that burn within

But today
We will stand tall,
And watch blazing hues
Of amber and magenta
Dance with cobalt blue,

As the sun melts
Into the seam

Where the sea meets the sky

i lost you in a crowd,
down along the quay

you were jubilant and laughing
from the easy spill of day

your dress and hair
were playing with the wind,
your eyes and lips
were smiling with the sun

you said something
that i couldn't hear,
it sounded like a whisper
that floated by my ears


you found me all alone,
on the broken side of day

i was torn and listless,
like driftwood from the bay

my clothes and hair
were tangled with my skin,
my eyes and lips
were closed and thin

then i heard something
that you said before,
i recognized the sound
once smothered by the roar


it was the promise
that you whispered,
down along the quay

that we would sail past
the tides of time

and then another day

There are secrets in the wind
that runs its fingers
through your hair
tossing about a wild ballet
of unruly ripples and waves

It lifts homemade kites
from calloused hands
toward heaven, in leaps and loops
and crazy twirls that swoop the ground,
whispering to the grass
and shouting at the roaring sea

It caresses a warm breeze
in the cool twilight
of a lazy summer's eve
and unleashes fury
in chaotic rage
across the alleys
of midwestern plains

The wind listens
to the first cry of newborn babes
and carries away
the last breath of vanquished men

It fills the sky with unbound wonder
and settles in the leaves of ancient trees
that rock and sway to the rhythm
of its secret splendor

After decades
of believing that adulthood
is the end of childhood
my skin is telling me
it's time to grow

It's been said
that you can catch more flies
with honey
than with vinegar

But who wants flies?

Iyam wud Iyam.

I Will have my cornflakes
and eat them with a fork

so I can save the milk for last

and sometimes there are berries
and sometimes there is jam

You
are the living breathing expression of a singular moment in the unyielding march of time

You
are unique as the shape of a newly formed crystal emerging from a storm filled cloud, finding its way to a bed of freshly fallen snow

You
are the flow of a river running through canyons, soothing edges from clashing stones, sparkling now and then in the rays of the sun and the sated beams of a harvest moon

You
are the beat of a drum in a warlord's prance and the breath of a flute in a diva's dance

You
are the present, the instant, the essence of the distilled day

You
are nevermore

You
are forevermore

You

What did Donald Duck
say to the Bill of Rights?