r: Poems

r Jun 2018

Who am I
to deserve such sights,
to witness this splendor?

Thank you for trusting me
with this color, this light.

Thank you for reminding me
what lives behind the dark.

Whoever, wherever,
whatever you are.

The long walk

r Jun 2019

The long walk

I've surveyed
highways, byways
waterways, caves
Woodland mounds
long dead towns
and never found
the distance between
love, loyalty, vows
words that somehow
get lost in time
less than light years
forgotten moments
gone because stars
die yet pretend
to shine fire on two
lovers who tire of one
or the other, like you
sleepy-eyed woman
so far down the hall
I've gotten lost walking
the long walk alone.

The mystery of cornbread

r Aug 2016

The mystery of cornbread

Evenings like these
black as a keyhole

crossing a shadow cast
on the side of the road

where the ground sleeps
dreaming of smooth stones

and nights without love
earning a dangerous living

like a breath under water
choked on the mystery

of cornbread
and a farmer's daughter

I wake up thirsty
hungry and alone.

The New Lion of Damascus Roars (10W)

r Sep 2013

The New Lion of Damascus Roars (10W)

The New Lion of Damascus roars
Obama stuck, Putin snores

Oops. Had a # 11 stuck in there. Someone should have told me. Ten now. :)

The Osprey Nest

r Jan 2014

The Osprey Nest

I spied it first from my upper deck,
a huge nest of driftwood, tree limbs and seaweed.
Each summer watching the male do his sky dance
while spotting prey underwater
from 30 meters above Hells Gap Marsh.
His wings constructed in a manner
that allows him to bend and shield
his eyes from the sun as he lands.

The first thing I would look for
after each hurricane took another bite
out of our coastline.
And after six succeeding hurricanes
the nest still strong in the top of the old tree, though
empty in the cold months as the Osprey winters south.
Several generations of young I've watched grow
through summers in my time here.

For two full years now the nest has stood empty.
Mates for life have parted.
No more young learning to hunt the fish.
Standing as a metaphor
for my own
soon to be empty nest.
A reality, not just a
syndrome.

r ~ 30Jan14

The Osprey (Pandionidae). A most awesome bird of prey.

the painter

r Aug 2014

the painter

tinted postcards
from Vienna-
Munich oils on canvas-
a self portrait
on a stacked-stone bridge-

rejected, the painter painted
yellow stars-broken glass
Judenstern and Kristallnacht

no starry night,
no van Gogh-
der Führer was no master,
Mein Kampf no masterpiece.

r ~ 8/25/14

\¥/\
| Night of broken glass
/ \

The Poppy and the Drone

r Jan 2014

The Poppy and the Drone

While Zafar takes his crop to town
Businessmen snort ******
Teens buy bundels to fill their veins
With housewives Oxycontin reins

The Generals demand their Percs
Technocrats love Dilaudid's quirks
While drones fly over Zafar's field
Counting flowers for next year's yield

r 9Jan14

The Professor

r Feb 2014

The Professor

Standing head and shoulders
Above seated students
Professing all he knows
And much he doesn't
Through squeaky chalk
Bored with lessons learned
Tattered black jacket collar
Covered with white dust
Like the dandruff
Of faded knowledge
Waiting for the last bell
And cacophony of students
Exiting for a night on the town
So he can trudge through
The gray slush home
To empty house and
Microwaved sirloin tv dinner
Wishing he had a yipping poodle
Instead of the silent company
Of Jim Beam to while away his hours

r ~ 26Feb14

I don't know, either.

there's a hole that needs burying

r Sep 2014

there's a hole that needs burying

I should leave here
but there's a hole needs burying

- a mountain of memories
and a thousand miles of pain -
it still smells like you
even after it rains

At the table by the window
where you used to read -
there's a whiskey bottle
that I'm trying to put away

There - is a hole that needs burying
one of these days.

r ~ 9/1/14

\¥/\
|
/ \

The ringing that keeps me breathing

r Feb 2018

The ringing that keeps me breathing

Most nights
I reach inside
my mind
trying to unwind
those thoughts
like twist-ties
that bind
to keep the loaves
of bread
free of mold
and fresh;
un-plan the long
planned plan
of mine
to choose the time
of my demise;
and sometimes
I try to listen
closely to
the constant ringing
in my ears,
the rhythmic singing
whine and changing
tones that turn
the sadness
churning, the waves
of emotions raging
in my ocean,
blue as the bottle
kept by my bed,
sleep my quest; sleep
eternal, the rest
of death I beg, leave
me alone, leave
me one more night
of breath to breathe.

The Rivers and the Clouds

r Oct 2013

The Rivers and the Clouds

Wake up rivers
Water is falling
From many clouds
This morning

r

The Road to Damascus

r Nov 2013

The Road to Damascus

At the end of the road to Damascus
There paved a street called Straight
Where lay the home of Judas
A blinded Pharisee did await
For hands layed on by Aranias
Saul now Paul the converted Pharisee
Again could walk the street of Straight
No longer blinded he now could see
Returning back to Jerusalem
Persecuted by King Agrippa
And perform the acts of apostles

I still seek to take my first step
On my own road to Damascus
To walk the street called Straight
Find my way out of this blackness

r 7Oct2013

The sad dance of fire

r Oct 2020

The sad dance of fire

When I was young
I slipped out of the tub
stinking clean as
the moon and the suds
in the crack of my ***
slipping out the back window
with my pants and boots
buck naked and brave
and my Daddy’s daddy’s
daddy’s knife tucked between
my teeth, but lonely and sad
because it’s all that I had
except for the twenty
that I’d saved
for the ten hour ride
from the bus station
to the recruiter, but alive
hoping my Mother, when shaking
my quilt out that morning
after my last night
remembered my down
in the sunlight
because I didn’t sleep there
and I remember thinking
if I don’t alight here again
take all that is left
of my memory out
and work it loose
from the bone with a thumb
the way you taught me to
clean a fish until all that remains
is a fleeting thought and toss it
in one motion the sad dance of fire.

The Saddle Preacher

r Oct 2013

The Saddle Preacher

He was baptized in whiskey
and gunsmoke aroma
Took up with a Cherokee woman
Quite friskey
Down in the Territory of Oklahoma
Tired of one too many killings
He took his side iron off
Wrapped it in its holster folded
Inside a gun oiled rag
Replaced it with his Mother's Bible
From within his saddle bag
Listened to that smart Indian woman
Who said he'd hung around the Territory
Too long
And if we don't skeedaddle
You'll be hangin' longer than you want
Smartest woman he'd ever known
She'd heard there's no law or religion
West of the Pecos and beyond
So they headed out to Texas
To preach the gospel to outlaws
****** and poor Mexican Catholics
Wrote off the Oklahoma Territory Baptists
Whose thick hides hide drunken sinners
Ridin' hard and fast her buckskin skirt
Above her thighs
Ridin' with a winner
Dark hair flowing behind
Ridin' hard to in his sight keep her
Such beauty that could stir the
***** and mind
Of even an old saddle preacher

r

An old one lost and recovered by my friend Lane Richard. First posted 16 Apr 2013. Thanks, Lane.

The sad the lighthearted

r Apr 2016

The sad the lighthearted

Night,
I love you
like a bride
loving her body,
the madman
the desert,
like the horse
loves its shadow,
the sad the lighthearted,
I love you like
a wanderer his ballad,
a poet his dark room,
like the moon.

The smell of lonesome

r Nov 2018

The smell of lonesome

I once had a heart
I thought
But I don’t know anymore
It’s feeling kind of dead and rotten
And the smell, well...
It smells a lot like lonesome.

The smoke burns

r Jun 2020

The smoke burns

Remember when we burned
down the federal fences
and let a black family in
a white house built by slaves -

man, the fire was hot
and the smoke smelled like freedom -

but that was then, and here we are
not so much later, the rails are made
of iron like the fists of a dictator -

the smoke burns my eyes, man -
and now - I can’t breathe.

#icantbreathe

The Sting

r Aug 2013

The Sting

She reached out her hand
Something to give to me
I was expecting her wedding band
Pain given freely
Her expression bland
Instead it was a Bumblebee
Surprised I was
Her gesture and her gift of tomorrow
Her tears because
Of laughter and not sorrow
I returned to her my eyes freely
Tears of another tomorrow
The sting of love gone steely

The swirl around the pearl

r Sep 2019

The swirl around the pearl

Sometimes
at night
late, when I slide
off towards dreams
it seems
my thoughts
they often swirl
around a pearl
at heaven’s gate.

The totality of loneliness

r Aug 2017

The totality of loneliness

What if love was like the sun
and the moon was the essence
of heartache, a darkness
passing by every now and then
like a coldness that makes us lonely
on a long Monday afternoon,
would it be forever or only, hopefully,
for just an hour or maybe two?

The Tree by the Covered Bridge

r Jan 2014

The Tree by the Covered Bridge

The stately oak stands solemn and quiet
Alongside the bucolic covered bridge
Its branches hanging downward as if tired
Leaves falling slowly into the current
Of the rain swollen Watauga River

The shadow of the tree clinging starkly
Onto the weathered century-old planks
Speaking of a time not so far removed
When bridge and tree was the gathering place
For a day's respite from a hard week's toil

Farmers, merchants, wives and children gathered
With picnic baskets filled with fried chicken
The women chatting in their new bonnets
The children wearing last year's Sunday best
While the men make bets like Roman soldiers

The low mound where the tree's roots are anchored
Bare earth beneath the lowest hanging limb
A crude stool of newly cut pine upright
While waiting for the next unwilling guest
Courthouse clock chimes the hour of Golgotha

r 14Jan14

The twist in the weave

r Mar 2019

The twist in the weave

Sometimes I drink by myself
like too many do, maybe you, too
when the wind blows like it does
here on the coast when it’s clear
and the light of dead stars come
down to swim in your circle of blood
while thinking back about the sisters
of boys I used to run with, oh, you know
we’d give our trigger fingers just to
touch them again, but the war keeps
seeping back into us like the poison
that pours into our rivers and creeks
from long gone cotton fields now paved
where the clouds of those days
are all that gets weighed in at the gin
I swear, there’s a pattern to all of this
like the weave of a tight skirt on a girl
who I once fell in love with in school
I went all crazy from watching her twist.

The Ugly Repelican and the Benevolent Democrab

r Jan 2014

The Ugly Repelican and the Benevolent Democrab

Suffering from cabin fever, I raided my cache of end-time sardines and went slipping and sliding down to the dock to feed the near-shore birds.

One lone Repelican sat upon a bollard by the boat launch seeming frozen to the spot. He was looking pretty grimm.

Taking pity on this cold, hungry waterbird former Marine-turned-Feeb, and apparently not stuck on I-275, this kindhearted Democrab was soon out of end-time sardines.

Telling him that I was sardine-poor but had one question I would like to ask concerning an investigation into questionable publicly financed bollard homesteading practices, the repugnant Repelican was not happy with me and stuck his long bill in my face while threatening to break me in half (like a boy) and throw me off of the effing dock before flapping away in a huff.

He called me later and asked to do lunch next week. Sardines on him.

r. ~ 29Jan14

To Rep. Congressman Grimm/NY

The Uncreated

r Sep 2013

The Uncreated

The Creator
The original
Aboriginal
Indigenous
Australians
In their Dreaming
Uncreated Baiame
The Sky Father
Creator of everything
But who created
This creator God
Mythological
Theological
Like everyones
Too similar and
Geographically
Universally spread
To be explained by
One Big Bang
But still I ask
Who created
The uncreated
Creator

Sleepless ramblings from night sky. Inspired by Jo Nesbo's excellent novel "The Bat". Copyright Jo Nesbo 1997 by Vintage Books, a Division of Random House, Inc. Translation from the Norwegian by Harvill Secker

The vagueness of the forgotten

r Sep 2019

The vagueness of the forgotten

Somewhere, someplace
I lost my way along
the way, searching for
the extraordinary
forgetting the more simple
things, the everyday ordinary
like the words for a bird’s
heartbeat, the color of water
in an estuary, the calligraphy
of the grocery list, an apostrophe
like an old man picking cotton
a woman long forgotten
drowned in the vagueness
of the ocean, a blind poet
comparing the sun to a rose
light slipping through blinds
hidden behind silk curtains
burdens born by mothers
worn and weary, left alone
the name for vines that grow
on silent children’s stones.

The way I wait

r Nov 2017

The way I wait

Left with no last goodbye
tossed by the wayside,
a finished cigarette flicked
out the car window,
sparks bursting apart
like the light of our love
all to pieces by the side
of a dark country road

The burnt flavor of her
still inside my lungs,
riding on my tongue,
in the breathless hesitant
last long goodnight kiss

Loss is what I see
when I look into the sky
tonight, no trees reaching
its leaves up for me

The burn of her words
is in the way that I say
but I loved you,
the way I wait, the way
I hold my breath to listen
for her footsteps in the kitchen.

Things the dead leave

r Jan 2016

Things the dead leave

Two fishing poles, a feather,
a leather jacket with holes
on both elbows, forty-four
dollars and change in
an envelope, some dope,
a pair of worn out cowboy boots,
a clay flute shaped like a bird
that can't whistle a tune worth a lick,
an unused bus ticket, a picture
of two kids laughing pretending
to fly; an eyelash in my eye.

In memory of a brother.

Think I'll dock here

r Jul 2016

Think I'll dock here

You know how you're down and out
on the river, three sheets to the wind,
doing some night casting, a little
moonlighting to pay off the bill,
and you decide, by god I'm tired
of drifting, I think I'll anchor here.

Me, I'm living on beer, boiled eggs,
and ruined mascara. Tonight,
I'll make enough to buy a roll of dimes
so she can play the box, so she can drop
them in the sawdust, on purpose
and lean over, oh me, oh my.

Thin minnow soup

r Oct 2019

Thin minnow soup

My past is now
at my back
like the shadow
of a man
in a chain gang
picking up trash
I left in a ditch
bottles and empty
beer cans, cigarette
packs and such
stuff my supper
is made of, old bread
that tastes of regret
and thin minnow soup
my card carrying guardian
angel scoops up
from the River Styx
with a ladle made of screen
tied to two sticks
from my window
cell that I have named
the holey hell hole
so, this is all an allusion
to the 26 letters
of my self-
imposed sentence.

Thin soled

r Dec 2017

Thin soled

My soul
is getting older,
the nights are colder

and the soles
of these soft worn out
doe-skin boots are thinner

every day, way too thin
to keep the thought
of a frozen plot at bay.

Thrace

r Apr 2014

Thrace

Now tethered to a lonely space

A place without a warm embrace

T’is hard to break the ties that bind

The rope that hope could ne’er unwind

To want that love once unconfined

Could sail to Rome, or Greece, or Thrace.

Was want that placed within this vase

The scent of rose so to efface

The mournful song of nightingale

A blushed cheek song behind red veil

Now tethered to a lonely space

Where thorn once pricked now left no trace

Wrapped now in sails by lover’s grace

For stars aligned and wind behind

To break the tether in my mind

Dreams not tethered to lonely space.

r ~ 4/4/14

Thrasher (10 w)

r Nov 2013

Thrasher (10 w)

There is always at least one song
that stands enshrined.
r 12 Oct 13

Happy Birthday, Man. Keep on Rockin'.
Neil Young (1945 - Forever)
Rust Never Sleeps (1979)

Thrasher
They were hiding behind hay bales,
They were planting in the full moon
They had given all they had for something new
But the light of day was on them,
They could see the thrashers coming
And the water shone like diamonds in the dew.

And I was just getting up, hit the road before it's light
Trying to catch an hour on the sun
When I saw those thrashers rolling by,
Looking more than two lanes wide
I was feelin' like my day had just begun.

Where the eagle glides ascending
There's an ancient river bending
Down the timeless gorge of changes
Where sleeplessness awaits
I searched out my companions,
Who were lost in crystal canyons
When the aimless blade of science
Slashed the pearly gates.

It was then I knew I'd had enough,
Burned my credit card for fuel
Headed out to where the pavement turns to sand
With a one-way ticket to the land of truth
And my suitcase in my hand
How I lost my friends I still don't understand.

They had the best selection,
They were poisoned with protection
There was nothing that they needed,
Nothing left to find
They were lost in rock formations
Or became park bench mutations
On the sidewalks and in the stations
They were waiting, waiting.

So I got bored and left them there,
They were just dead weight to me
Better down the road without that load
Brings back the time when I was eight or nine
I was watchin' my mama's T.V.,
It was that great Grand Canyon rescue episode.

Where the vulture glides descending
On an asphalt highway bending
Through libraries and museums, galaxies and stars
Down the windy halls of friendship
To the rose clipped by the bullwhip
The motel of lost companions
Waits with heated pool and bar.

But me I'm not stopping there,
Got my own row left to ***
Just another line in the field of time
When the thrashers comes, I'll be stuck in the sun
Like the dinosaurs in shrines
But I'll know the time has come
To give what's mine.

Three Squares and a Cot

r Nov 2013

Three Squares and a Cot

People on the streets
Parents working second jobs
Trying to make ends meet
Savings depleting as prices rob
Mothers' seek cheapest cuts of meat
Politicians out to make wealthy richer
As if that were the answer to division
Between those that have not a pitcher
Or bowl large enough to catch false vision
Of milk and crumbs that never trickle down
From those who have and care not
For those whose voices have no sound
While criminals get three squares and a cot

r 3 Nov 13

Through a light clearly

r May 2014

Through a light clearly

Today the sun stared down around me. The light I saw through wasn't of the yellowish warm kind, or the blue tinted light that speaks of summer coming, nor was it gray like those days that make me long for something else.

Today the light that I looked through was clear like mountain water. I saw the tree for what it is. A tree with hands that reach out to be touched. With leaves the air needs for breathing. A tree for perching.

Today I saw a snow-white butterfly upon a yellow daylili. The butterfly had no markings. The lili stood in the shade of my porch. I remembered that in the fall when butterflies chase each other, it will be time for the fishermen to gather their nets repaired during hot summer months and return to the sea. The white butterfly reminded me.

Today I saw a hummingbird with a ruby necklace darting around my empty feeder. The one hanging out front. I took it down and refilled it with cold sugar-water from my fridge that I keep in an old milk bottle. I refilled the one out back, too.

Today I watched a blue grosbeak splashing in a clear pyrex baking dish that I keep water for the birds in next to my feeders. The grosbeak bathed while a male cardinal watched, spitting sunflower seed hulls onto my wooden deck. A housefinch waited patiently for water and a turn at the mixed-seed feeder.

Today I saw ants crawling on the dried dead body of a wasp. This made me like the ants. They like their wasps dead. So do I. Eat up, guys, I thought.

Today I saw that the breeze had scattered petals from my rose bush across my porch. My dog dozed on the petals. That made me smile. Reddish pink petals clinging to a black dog when she walked onto the grass. The breeze smelled of roses.

Today I saw clearly what the sun was staring down upon. Things that need watching. Remembering. Today, I saw through a light clearly.

5/25/14

\•/\
|. A gentle breeze day on my porch
/ \

through the sun to Venus

r Aug 2014

through the sun to Venus

she wore a soft white sundress
·weathered light cotton·
and when she stood just right
-in the August sun-
I could see clear through to Venus.

r ~ 8/24/14

\¥/\
| diaphanous
/ \

Throwback

r May 2014

Throwback

If I could sing
You'd throw me back
Say I'm not a keeper
Cuz I can't sing
Your song anyhow.

But if I could
I'd be singing
Something sweeter
To make you cling
To me...all day long.

If I could sing
You'd throw me away
Call me a dreamer
And there's not a thing
I could say to say you're wrong.

When I sing
Toss me into your river
Cuz I'm a dreaming swimmer
I could swim in your water
All night long.

r ~ 5/4/14

\•/\
| I can't sing a lick, but I dream big
/ \

thunder

r Sep 2014

thunder

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

\¥/\
| •
/ \

Tidal blues

r Dec 2019

Tidal blues

There are waves
that say goodbye
and waves of light
on darkest nights
and waves that sing
melancholy songs
that make me want
to lay me down
beside the dunes
and listen to
those tidal blues.

Tidal Song

r Jul 2014

Tidal Song

Symphony of shells
Quartz pebble accompaniment
Gull solo to wind sound
Waves whisper-singing in mid-lantic
Come away, come away
Come to momma
Now

r ~ 7/17/14

\¥/\
| Sea and shore
/ \

Tiergarten party

r Aug 2014

Tiergarten party

I saw a photograph today.
Old, Berlin, black and white-
black charred stumps-
blackened limbs.

When they bombed the Tiergarten,
did the trees hear them fall
in the forest?

r ~ 8/6/14

\¥/\
| Berlin 1945
/ \

time

r Nov 2014

time

time -
such care in counting
the essence of

measured twice
- cut once
if wisely

a hole in a rock -
an atomic clock
ticking tocks

aligned in space
light years and dog years
- lines on a face

a living will -
a fleeting baby's smell

- shadows weighed
at the end of the day

darkening sky
drawing nigh -
palms high

- it is time.

r ~ 11/4/14

Time

r Feb 2016

Time

Time is a clock,
a face no-one forgets, a
stopwatch on a stiff wrist
beneath crisp white cotton,
a feral black cat in the woods
of adulthood that sneaks
up on you in your prime,

or something like that.

ticking

Time Lapse

r Apr 2014

Time Lapse

Places that once had names
changed by wind and rain
and sun and shifting sands
once mapped and framed
bad lands claim
dry bones.

Desert meets sky
   and rivers run dry
and road is lost
    to all who try
to find their way
    to shining pools
of silver lies
    miraged below
forgetful skies.

Days go past in time lapsed
skies changing fast to black
to red to blue to white
and back again
to no end
in sight.

r ~ 4/7/14

Time the Final Rhyme

r Jul 2013

Time the Final Rhyme

Some days are treasure
Some days we measure

Seconds that don't rhyme
Tic by tic time is time

I don't look at clocks
I don't own a watch

Time is time
The final rhyme

On purpose
On the surface

Birth till death
Counting breath

Time the final rhyme
Time is only time

r
Jun 23

Time to Save My Ass

r Aug 2013

Time to Save My ***

Who is it that comes from Edom, coming from Bozrah, his garments stained in crimson? Who is this, in glorious apparel, marching in the greatness of his strength? "It is I , who announce that right has won the day, it is I," says the Lord, "for I am mighty to save."
-Isaiah, 63:1.

Look to Syria, Egypt, Lebanon, Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Somalia, all the world around you, and I. Time to get off your *** and do some saving. No disrespect intended, Lord.

r