so I brought my writer wife
(prominently pregnant)
to the hospital
and on her bed, she screamed:
"weren't" "hasn't" "couldn't" "shan't"
"aint" "hadn't" "you're" "isn't"
"aren't" "didn't" "wasn't"
"who's?" "what's?" "he's" "she's"

The doctors were confounded
and they turned to me and they said:
"What the hell is she doing?"

And I replied with double speed
and a violent sense of urgency:
*"Don't you know?
She's having contractions -
she's a writer"

i still try to remember
to take my boots off
at the door

my feet are wet
from walking in the rain

i leave laetoli footprints
on the pine floor
-like the first man

trying to walk upright
but can't seem to
get it straight

There's a lot of empty space
in a house
so full of quiet

wishing for thunder.

r ~ 9/5/14

I sat down with you
In the coolness of the night air
Watching you sip Dr. Pepper
After a long day's work
I listened to the sounds of summer
Watched a few stars twinkling
In the jet colored sky
We were happily chit-chatting
About this and that
We were all together
Just us three
Oh, those summer evenings
Gone forever
Only shadows remain
Touching my heart

**~Marian~

That “Grand Idea” of traveling
         going with the Snowbirds
                                     as in herds
Changing with the Seasons...
For what ever reasons...

Changed when seven pounds
               of squirm and delight
         was cradled in my arms-
          five years ago that night

Instant Love as from Above
Never to cease, never to release
a 24/7 little boy, Tony Boy,
             (and Lucy too)
     Filling my life with Joy.

I wondered at times
      how it would be...
Retired...
     Just my wife
         and me.

And when I weighed the cost
Thought of the loss
Someone else called “Grandpa”.
The little voices saying “Grandpa!”, “Poppa!”
Rang louder still, louder beyond all measure
than all the sites and sounds the world could offer.

No other decision was possible to make
Than to spend my life raising my “children”
Building memories, building lives.
Instilling character the only way I know...
   Loving and living,
       and when necessary -- using words.

My “children” will live their life,
        living memories,  
        giving memories,
        creating memories,
of times when they were young
Saying,      “I love you Grandpa.”
                    “I love you Poppa.”
Hearing,   “I love you too my child.”
Knowing, “See you in the morning.”
                      Refers to Heaven.

“The greatest love you can show
is to give your life for your family.”
     (It is a paraphrase but
     consider the original Author.)

Reconciled Love
Promises Kept
Self Faded
Vows Restored
Committed Lives
Stable Home
Child Loved
Unbroken Love
Un-broken Child
Un-broken...

if there were clocks that would send me back
before the time when the neighborhood
was full of toddlers and dying men
when the rain puddles still fell lightly
beneath my still-small galoshes,
i would use them and bring you with me
we'd look at each other with hazel eyes
dripping with the stars and the memories
of our distant futures, far from our miniature grasp,
and talk about flowers and their place in our hearts
and crawl through the mud without our raincoats
to find the worms in the dirt, to build them a
kingdom of sticks and dust
with a moat running through it and we would rule
despite our ever-changing bodies
and our once separate lives

i'd make sure to place you in the empty house
right next to mine
and we'd start again
as brothers

This was a fishing village
when people were speaking
the king's English, dead
like the fishing industry
Now the tourists have accents

Truth be told
this was a fishing village
long before that
But we don't speak about
what those folks spoke
Something Algonquian
or another dead language

When the tide is out
I walk the shore and look for remnants
Pottery and stone tools, and such
I find a lot of plastic
and bottles, plenty of those
We've been a drinking people
for a long **** time

Once, I found a child's shoe,
sodden and filled with sand
It had a blue lace,
still tied, and a smiley face
as the tide was going out
Kind of sad, really.

r  ~ 8/28/14

when
the poison
is ported through my heart
and eventually arrives
on the slow boat
to its terminal
when
it does its designed job
while picking up side work
in other organs
when
the projector is shut down
and the reality
is walking beside me
within me
I will let you know how I am.

There's a book out there
with my name on it today;
a published poet.