Spring. Same plants, same order.
Monday morning, open for business.
Tractor-trailers, day care centers.
Every leaf that’s coming out is out.

To tonight’s town meeting I will go unaware and foolish.
It’s delicious, the unimportance of my feelings.
Even our particular war was small.
Europe had one last a century.

Hubble photos of events 13 billion years ago
Do not put me in mind of the species’ insignificance.
Just the opposite having witnessed the universe’s birth.
But birth from what preceding state? God again rears his hoary head.

They say one must let go and will let go,
God will decide what tragedy you need.
Not every seed becomes a flower,
Not every branch breaks out like a prosthetic trombone.

While the ancient Romans wrote of love
The ancient Britons wrote of war.
The Romans should have been perfecting their republic.
No god could do that work for them.

The November moth's the fall cankerworm--Alsophilia pometaria--
Slender-bodied, beige, beginning life as the well known inchworm.
In our war more children may have died than would have had
      the tyrant lived in fear and awe.
We can never know because we conquered.

You are a cockroach

you are a big cockroach crawling up a pegboard
the kitchen light suddenly shines
and you must get through to the other side
but testing every evenly spaced hole you find
your shoulders will never fit
and to get away you've got to fall.

                                                          ­    fall
or refuse to crawl and wait motionless
until inspiration with an overview filters through
or you die of hunger, lack of love, fear of death
or the outlandish hands of another angry animal
with a wisdom wiser
but infinitely useless as your own.

so you die. but now the big hands are gentle
and you receive a respite of thoughtlessness
and the garbage grave has warm chicken bones
and you don't care what happens to you
or the oldest species of proud recalcitrant insects
or procreating it or foraging a grubby kitchen sink

for food. the joy of making life is new. let go,
and through the night be carried carelessly along.

I've been inside this whirlwind for quite some time
and I know not when will I get to experience the warmth of hugs and kisses again.

Oh how I miss the feeling of serenity!
... and the quietness of still waters
... and the gentle breeze
... and running after butterflies on a calm afternoon.

I am so afraid of not knowing how to explain this loving, gentle madness I feel for you,
that I choose to stay silent, invisible,
nothing to you, forever.

Oh Cupid... Hello again
Have you come to send me, Yet another man
I said "Take him back, I do not want it"
He said "My dear, I promise you will love him"

"I loved the last, and he before...
And yet you do not cease to send me more..."

"This one is different, just take a glance,
He wants so desperately to hold your hand"

"As do they all, yet they leave me abandoned"

"This one I know will Not leave you saddened"

I turned to walk away,
Uninterested in what Cupid had to say

Until I bumped into the sweetest man
With eyes of gold and the strongest hands

He pulled me close and I was petrified
He asked me if I was alright

I did not speak, I could not think
I only felt his arms around me
So strong and demanding
He smiled so gently
I blushed and turned away
Before he could kiss me.

"Take him back"! I screamed at Cupid
For too many times men have left me deluded.

Most charming indeed, this man cannot stay
I looked back to him and said please go away ..

His eyes seemed to fade and his hands disappeared
He soon washed away and my mind was cleared

Cupid shook his head and flew away
But not before he got the chance to say...

"So sad my dear, that you cannot see
The result of these loves are up to thee,
You push them away and so they leave
I only bring another because you say you are lonely".

~                     *         In our hearts there is a lacking
                                       We made these boxes meant for stacking
To build our pyramids right to the top
                                 In hope to fill the hole
                                             But in truth we've no control
       In this stream of life were ascending
                         And we are all just pretending
                              To look full and whole to the rest of the world
       But maybe its just a tax
                         To these lives that where attached
         So that hole will be full
                                      once we've gone
                             Yet still I'm wrapped inside this coil
      That with it brings turmoil
               Though i am still young
                      I feel my soul is old and done
     So with what time i have left
                                              I will sit and take deep breaths
                             And listen gently to the falling rain

Too tired
Too weak
Too gentle
Too sweet

Too honest
Too kind
Too loyal
Too blind

Too scared
Too young
Too hurt
Too done

Too distant
Too misled
Too me
Too dead