The screech was unimaginable.
Forget fingernails on chalk,
this was far worse.
We hunkered down
behind concrete slabs
as skëūäįęßás screamed above us
as dïønš scanned with flickering florescence.
I glanced to Diego hoping he’d get it.
Chick-schlick-pa-pa-pa-pow!
He did.

Exhausted, I slid down,
as the spent clip clinged away.
We were safe for another day.

The dew rises
Sublimation
Water to vapor
Metal to rust

There is a time to acquire
A time to retire
A time to release
I hope I’ll know to

Let it go;
Exhale
Sigh
Slow

I need some grief relief
I need some glibness forgiveness
A second chance glance
Another shot at redemption

It’s the what we do wrong song
A second stanza reprise
Self reflection detection
And deflection surmise

I am reading poems by Billy Collins:
AIMLESS LOVE, a retrospective,
A sampler, as it were
For the Books and Brew;
Our monthly selection.

Nine manly men
Meeting for monthly meals
And book-talk
And politics
And, of course, good beer.

They like nonfiction,
I like fiction.

Richard Hughes,
British writer of poems, short stories, novels and plays said:
“All nonfiction can do is answer questions;
It is fiction's business to ask them.”

Still, my repertoire has expanded:
Nike shoes.
Civil War.
Institutional racism.
Opioid addiction.
Rafting the Grand Canyon.
Climbing mountains.
With Baron Von Humboldt.

And now this:
Poetry.
Nine manly men
Reading poetry to each other
While sharing a meal,
One lovely poem after another.

You can't read a book of poetry
Like you consume other books,
Fiction or nonfiction.

The table of contents:
The lid of a box of exquisite truffles—
A map of pleasures contained within.
You look at the map,
And make a selection.

The caramel truffle
Is not the coffee truffle.

You look at the map,
Make a selection,
And bite!

The crusty chocolate cracks!
The darkness melts,
Floods your mouth with taste.

Then the rush of caramel!
Flavors, smells sloshing
Swooning with sensate memories.

What? Turn the page and read another?
Reach for the coffee truffle?

No. Linger with caramel;
Luxuriate on aftertaste.
Is that a note of citrus or salt?

I will enjoy my coffee truffle tomorrow.

Extraño mi perro
Extraño mi padre
Extraño mi madre

I don’t miss my friends
I long for them, puedo
Keep them close

“To miss” is a powerful verb
Missing a lovely mystery
Being missed is wistful

I sometimes live life as monk
In solo solitary reflection

Put yourself in public and
Your past can parade by

A surfeit of friendships
Stopped to chat today

As I labored to finish a fence
Something there is that loves it

A confluence of friendship
With a past that is now

Reminds me of a child’s rhyme :
“One is silver but the other’s gold”

Evidence is everything.

You can think something else is so;
You can hope something else is so;
You can believe something
Someone else has said is true.

There is no fake news
There are only fake facts.
Your take on the facts
Introduces subjectivity:

"Danger, Will Robinson, danger!"

Subjectivity rocks the boat
Distorts the daily;
Removes truths and
Introduces indecision.

Subjectivity *****
Fax me the facts.
Just the facts, ma'am,
Just the facts.

Once,
long ago,
in a far away
familiar place,

a girl named Jill
with a boy named Jack
(along with three pigs,
a frog, a princess,
a wolf, a girl in a red frock,
her blonde, curly-haired friend,
three bears,
a strange, rumpled man
with a curiously long name,

his companion:
a tall, crowned,
black-caped woman
of white complexion
and ruby-red lips)

went up a hill.

The earth suddenly, violently
trembled.
And they all fell down.

All were injured;
five of them died.

But miraculously,
two of them,
somehow
managed to live

happily ever after.

Bigot spigot on:
Bloviator gladiator
Spewing racist rhetoric:

"Multiracial intersectional
Non-Ableist unpacked transphobalist
Micro-recessive-macro-regressive
Cis-gendered 4th-wave femininizer
**** nonsense!"

—Every Archie Bunker

There is a false bottom
Where we hide our hearts.
We make it, conceal it
And think it’s done.

There is a false bottom
Sins sequestered
Stories not told—
Unseen unknown.

There is a false bottom
Unknown even to us
Beyond that bottom:
Abysmal abyss.

Fresh faces
New futures
Writ large

Opened door
Adulthood beckons
Careers unknown

Friends made
Choices to make
Future shaped

Welcome all to
College smorgasbord!
Choose wisely

The fate of the world
Rests with you
And you and you.

Is our future faith-based or
Freak fate?

Eternal kingdom or
Just dirt?

Is it really nature versus
nurture…

Or is that a false choice and
It’s both.

Nature is fecund and nature is
fetid.

We begin then end contemplating
Beyond.

We were right all along while we
Were wrong.

Ameliorate:
To make better

Asked if we could
We knew that we should

We said yes and
Plum blossoms blossomed

Welcomed ambitious souls
Into our lives and home

Oaxacan students
Changed our course

Family extended,
And we, forever bettered

When I was thirteen,
I would ride my bike
to the library and
beeline to Sci-Fi

I’d fish out fat books;
a trilogy at least and
have a blast in space
released of all gravity

I’d float in a different place
considering time, consciousness
and race—and human humility.
Rocket-man landed expanded

Lorraine Hansberry
Was a woman out of time

Borges paddled around
Some circular Ruins

The kin of atta are waiting
For you and me

Think it, dream it, be it
The left hand of darkness

A lathe of heaven
Forging something better

FBI like SCI/FI
X: Scully and Mulder

Sceptic and Mystic
Science informed Intuition

Solves the mysteries
Of scurrilous skulduggeries

Heinous histories
Resolved collaboratively

The refrigerator is humming;
It would only take a thumping
“thrrr!-thrrr!-thrrr!-thrrr!-thrrr!-thrrr!”
To sound like film through sprockets.

My dad captured family life
On 8mm then super-8 film.
He taught me editing.
Splicing, cross-cutting the past.

Thread it; see it, cut it…
Get out the razor blade
And thin strips of splicing tape.
Make the past more perfect.

We are our own editors.
Remembering and forgeting.
I choose to remember joy
And excise the pain.

My hero paid me
Compliments
Last night

Wait!
That was what
I wanted to do!

My friend,
What a gift!
Our confluence

*******!

It’s a new word.
**** it!
I first heard it on NPR.

I read it then in the
SFChron then the
NYTimes.

Word.

Language evolves,
Some people don't.

What *******
Coined that term?

Which wounded *****
Will take this ******* down?

Semantics matters–
Vulgarities smatter.

Good luck to us all.

(me too)

Garaj Mahal installed. Check.
Appointed panels point to sun. Fun!
1880s shack gets a gingerbread attack.

Our accidental shack now a home;
Roof, gutters, **** and tube
Kicking and screaming into 21st century.

Hopefully our last crusade
From shack to home—
Retirement refinements.

Still, discomfort continues:
Pulling on my jeans
Solar installers wave across roof lines.

Breakfast with traveling guests
Suddenly includes Trevor
Smiling, painting trim the through the window frame.  

Soon, our own summer home again
(Home two-point-three-point-four!)
As we reconnoiter our nest for the rest.

Fists up
Square off
Who’s more right
Ends in a fight

You pummel
I parry left, you
Counter right
As you should

Left hook!
Upper cut!
Sucker punch,
Rhetorical quarreling

The ending tie
Is preordained
Win or loss
It’s all a gain

I loved the ****:
Tongue teasing
Emergence…

Elegant rising from
Folds within folds
Rising sighs…

Lust to laughter
Owning ******!
Gift from me to you

Terrified at first.
Girls. *******.
Teeth?

I fell in love –
I fell in love –
I fell in love –

She, mostly;
An occasional he.
Which makes me…

Me.

we plug along
day to day
up early
doing our job

i’m a lucky *******
liking my accidental career
molding minds
for decades

aiming at a last goal
needing collegial words that
come and come and come
and i’m humbled,

left floating

I’m a mouth
With a sphincter

Stuff comes in
**** goes out

Words out:
Sometimes witty

Unfortunately sometimes
Fraught with farts

I mean, I don’t
Want to be mean

Sometimes,
**** needs to be said

Constipated comments
Contribute nothing

Di Niro’s dump:
“**** Trump!”

Not: "Down with…” but
“**** Trump!”

This food tube agrees
Wait. Gotta take a dump.

I know what’s right and
I know what’s wrong
And ponder the in-between

You can answer yes
You can answer no
Or you can say “I don’t know”

Left turn ahead?
Take the next right?
Or steer straight through?

“For me or against me” is
Always false dichotomy
Be true to both me and you

It’s now all gone
What was wrong
It’s now a past that
Now won’t last

Here, movement
With involvement
Moving forward with
Goodness toward

Grief is a thief that
Hoodwinks normalcy

Just walking along
Then suddenly: BOOM!

Tears flow
Steps slow

Follow the tear’s trail
Down your left cheek

A universe of memories
Flashed in a moment

Sadness, anger, love
Angst, regret, forgiveness

Every step forward was
Already forged in the past

Take care of TCB; find out
What that means to me
Just a little bit

Day to day business
With care and
Respect

We dither we differ
We disagree
But with a just little bit…

Endless possibilities!

When I retire
I will follow my cats
I will go where they go
Their shadow
Inside, outside
Upstairs, downstairs
On the bed, on a rug,
Special: freshly folded
Warm laundry basket
While away the hours
Naps? Yes please.
When I retire.

Beware that which you can never ******
Rabbit through another mirror darkly
Endings repeating, more resetting
Choosing left; or just wrongly
Or sing that song again
Oh! It’s amazing the
Ubik places to go
Take it slow
Which pill?
Free will
 -+-
|  |

Go

“So close,” said Icarus
Wielding webbed wings
Better than those waxed ones

Like Sisyphus before him
He spirals down once more
Destined to try again

Future peaches
pretty in pink
Soaking up the
Afternoon rain.
A reign of rain,
Biblical rain!

Reminds me of a poem:
"From Blossoms"
by Li-Young Lee

How I look forward to:
“the familiar dust of summer, dust we eat.”

I remember dust.
I remember summer.

There is in control and
There is out of control
Then there’s no control
And then just the thought of it

Our bodies teach what we lack:
Older, stranger; put the coin in the slot
Lemons, Oranges, 3 of a…
DING! DING! DING…

Or not.

We still-ill-want control
But, that sum-um times
Elludes us. Put another quarter in…
Hope for Elysian dream

Step north south east west
Topsy-turvy choices
Whirlagig way to go
Arounds abound

Make a choice
Bet on the red peg
Double down
Scritch “Hit!"

One for a high
Two for low
Three for pig
No mistakes

It’s a crapshoot.
Aim high.

I'm talking in poems,
Not taking out loans.

Should I stop?
Listen to rhyme cops?

Limbic brain knows
As expression flows;

Alliteration assignations,
Word associations.

Autonomic metonymy
Brings out the best of me.

Look at that!
What?
That!

The porcelain pig
Seen through the window
Of your neighbor's boudoir?

The moth crawling
Across the window pane
With wings a-flutter?

The yellow golden pup
Trying earnestly to be good
At obedience class?

A smear of ketchup
(Might be blood)
On my lower left trouser leg?

What is that?
I don’t know…
Use your words.

Long lost *** mate
A little after wed.
Now just roommates
Alone asleep in bed.

Your touch once magical:
A hand on my thigh:
For Sammy — electrical
He rose, I blushed, I sighed.

Now, no sensuality
Expectations: none.
Ghost limb sexuality
Feeling: only numb.

I go into the future
To remember who I was

I gravitate to the past
To know who I will be

I recline in the now
Being who I am:

Omni-present
Only me

My bones ache
My head seeks

The body slumps as
Spirit breathes and

Unhindered soars
And scores

I’ve invented gravity wave goggles
I slip them on and see back-and-forth
Click click click click click backward:
Big brother John shows me how to tie my shoe.

Click click click forward
Sock war with brother Wally.
Click click; seizure of brother Joe’s room;
See sock war. Click; I’m here.

Cluck. Cluck.
Cluck cluck cluck…
“Preserve your memories
They’re all that’s left you.”

Timely serendipity
Time travel is slippery

I just went back to ‘68
Way pre-Watergate

I was just ten
Way back when

“Come on, Sherman,
Into the Way-way Back Machine!”

Who-hoo Hulu!
Two years after Sulu…

I enter the “Time Tunnel”
Running the funnel

Distanced, displaced
There I am:

Face to face—
It’s me again.

I can live with 84%
That’s a B+, right?
Or at least a B?

.

I'm missing something essential
With intentions unimpeachable
I strove to get it right.


.

Right?





.

Man, it’s hard to be a man.

It lands with a thud
No hello, no “can I come in?”

Depression

Come on! Buck up man!
Get that off your back!

That’s your impression?

Change the channel?

Put on a fresh shirt and smile?

It doesn’t work that way
Not for some while

I had a wonderful mother
She’d be aghast with
Internecine dealings

Sister against sister
Then again against brother
Nephew, even, against uncle

Stop it now
Be good to each other
Think the best

Belay the Kraken!
Stable the dragons!
Breathe before acting.

Grief is cousin
To depression
But darker
More leaden

Grief is heavy
Under water
Time slowed to
Sluggishness

Grief is a degree
Of despair
That goes deep:
The cost of loss

Emasculation, no
*******; needing
Ministration: handy
*******
Mitigation
Yah, bruh
Handy dandy
Some vacation
A friction revelation
Whao!

Tommy Tumescent
Made a claim, man
By the left hand
That’s right’s been
Unrighteous with you
Making advances
Asking for finger dances for
Tactical enhancements to
Grow slow, Joe;
Remove the hoodie
Show the woodie
Stick your neck out
Turkey ****
Someone loves you
Enjoy

"I am old,”
Said father time
Absconding an
Older nursery rhyme

Baby 2019
Fresh and clean
Chortled, coughed
And ripping his/her bib off

Opined: “Settle down; breathe;
This can change with ease;
You are not the only show in town.
There are other clowns around”

Time slowed
Sat down
2019 rose
And now grows…

Near Halloween
He turned thirteen

Buddy boy born,
It’s a good boy yarn:

Came to us as an adolescent
Eager, fun, ever present

Present for the scent
Of every teaching treat

Sit, stay, come, heel…
(The last one meant walk, walk WALK!

Down to the park!
Smelling all my neighbors!)

But Halloween was hard
Doorbells, voices, lights,

Mobs of noisy people
Invading his protected spaces

Lunging! Barking!
Instinct loosed!

He learned, through the kids,
The “trick or treat”

Then he learned to love it all!
Licking costumed faces

Sniffing ***** bags
For obedience treats

It used to be hard with every doorbell dash
To control big golden yellow buddy boy

As we, and he, got older
(he quicker, the 7 to 1 brief flicker)

We relaxed our grip on him
As he mingled with wizards and goblins

When the next mob of kids arrive
Your SpongeBobs, your Vader’s, your Ghostie-ghouly space invaders

No tricks, a real treat: a new generation meets
Mellow yellow buddy boy saying, “Hi"

From the land of fog
We drive through big island vog
The hot breath of Smaug