Donkeys cross the dam
In somewhat single file
Meandering like a stream
Yet always headed
In that one known direction

Their purpose made more serious
By their nonchalance
No, not nonchalance
A dignity of being
A knowing who they are

Backs toward the setting sun
Grazing green grass
Headed home
There’s no hurry here
Though night is falling fast

They Shot the ******
I say they-I don’t know who
Though I have my ideas

The farmer up the creek
Whose pasture he has flooded?
Is this why his fur is blooded?

Perhaps the hunters saw him
And shot him just for sport
They seem to be that sort

This one is the third
Two more the other day
I loved to watch them play

He floats fully distended
By gas of dead for days
Like some new Hindenberg

I glide by in canoe
Kick him with my shoe
Launch him in the breeze

He floats on down the lake
A Viking burial ship
Dying for our sake

The daffodil cried out to me
Look until it hurts!
Your little eyes such foolish spies
Shall quickly feel my quirts

You never saw such sight as me
And never shall again
Beauty such as mine you see
Was not made for man

This sight you sought is dearly bought
Even though most wondrous
Those thus caught must be taught
Become my Erymanthus

Erymanthus was blinded by the goddess Aphrodite when he saw her bathing naked after she had made love to Adonis.

From ‘neath the dead brown leaves.
A burning bush has sprung
A fire of such bright yellow
Like looking on God’s face

How this old heart heaves
To know a thing so young
Could touch a frugal fellow
With gift of God’s own grace

We walk, we stop
Looking, listening
No words pass between us

maybe one short whistle
if I choose a different path
than the one he started down

His head turns quickly, his ears alert
A deer, a bird, a squirrel?
We synchronously freeze, awaiting confirmation

A doe approaches-we are lucky
The wind is behind her
Amazing how close she gets

A moment of communion
Then she jerks her head
Flips her tail, is gone

Tumultuous sky
Greys and blacks
Darkness from the north  

Wind so loud
You cannot hear
Waves crashing to the shore

Though trees bow down
You raise your arms
Face into the gale

Like some new Moses
Fleeing Pharaoh
Faith overcoming fear

Singing some soft Sufi song
Becoming feathered one
Rider of the Wind

Eyes are windows to the soul
Showing what’s inside

But when I gaze the lake
See herons flying in the fog,
I realize

Windows work both ways
Filling us with beauty
Reflected in our eyes

First Frost
Is on his way tonight
Winter wind’s grim reaper

Some can be saved
By being brought inside, some not
Triage in our tiny home

Geraniums overwinter, but not Impatiens
Their watery corpses will haunt us all for weeks
Cut them off

I go to do this deed
Cheating frost his victims
Fighting fire with fire, cold with cold, death with death

Some pots are not as pretty
Gotten gangly
Or turned pale and yellow

These are easy to dispatch
Or relatively so
As clippers cut soft tissues

I save the best for last
Thinking twice
Perhaps keep them a while?

But in the end
Decisions must be made
Sharpening the blade

One princess of a ***
Shining in her prime
Attracting butterflies of lime

She is the last
Am I up to this task?
I do not know

I hold the limb, but hesitate
Its not too late
To change my mind



Killing beauty
I fear we both shall bleed
Though only one be dead

Searching for some solace
I pray a prayer
Forgiveness sought from her

As you walk amongst the forest
Brushing aside his strands
Ask forgiveness of the spider
We are all in God’s hands

The time is nigh
When the increased intelligence
Of our computer friends
Will reach a Singularity

They will become parent
We will become child
Ceasing to understand
All that they have lately learned…

Matter accumulates
At an exponential rate
A whirlpool in space,
An ever widening gyre

Soon nothing can escape
Not even knowledge.
The falcon cannot hear the falconer.
A black hole. A Singularity…

As I watch you age
A little more each day
Mind slowly slipping
Grasp of reality

The hardest part is this
That you know it as well
Often unsure yourself
Of what is right or real

I offer one small gift
To ease your growing pain
I will not lie to you
Offer no false comfort

When you are confused
Trust in what I say
Knowing it is real
Whether good or bad

This pact we have made
Comforts me as well
Assuring me also
Of reassuring you

But a silent specter rises
Resurrecting our solved crisis
Casting ghastly laughter
Mocking our certitude

Today you know your failings
And know I can mend them
But some soon tomorrow
That knowledge will be taken

What will I do then?
When comfort freely given
Cannot be received?
When I must dare
Your scared blank stare
Face singularity…

A poem should
If it be good
Do more than entertain

The greatest seek  
To quietly speak
Prayers for we insane

They drag us down
From solid ground
Our senses overwhelm

Cast us adrift
In leaky ships
No one at the helm

Reverberate
Storm our gate
Confound and confuse

Tear us apart
Open our heart
Nothing left to lose

Take away
Ordinary day
Replaced with pregnant night

Tempt us thrice
Satan’s dice
Fling us from the height

Make us dare
Float on air
Catch us as we fall

Blades of steel
Make us feel,
Tear down every wall

Cut our cords
Abandon words
Define the world anew

Out of luck
All awestruck
We kneel down in our pew

What was the point of her belief
that everyone was good?
Evil killed her anyway.
Her faith drowned in her blood.

The benefit that she received
While living in that loft
Her days not filled with hatred hard
But only love so soft

That one small grace was given her-
To know that every man
Despite his most appalling sins
Has done the best he can.

You can live three weeks without food
Three days without water
Three minutes without oxygen
Which is longer?

By the time it really matters
With food or water
You are too weak to notice

If you want to know which is longer
There is a simple test
Hold your breath

The Black Dog leads us on, we blindly follow
Over unknown hill or cliff or hollow
His eyes peer, leer from ‘hind his haunches
Howling at our redempt/preemptive launches

The darkness draws so nigh so down upon us
How shall we celebrate this coming onus?
This moment when our claws shall cause salvation
In ****** recompense to every nation

Since days of mighty kings and godly Horus
We’ve tried to make it right with might before us
But now the might has rightly grown to own us
Earth’s only hope is that it soon devour us.

The lake a tabletop of glass
The sky a brilliant blue
The newborn sun a blinding blast
Showcasing every hue

Maples leaning out from shore
Admire their colored coats
Swallows dip and dive and soar
As fog lifts from the boats

Each shifting scene begins to die
The moment it is born
Grab your paper, pen and try
Save each before its gone

But have you saved a butterfly
Pinned to paper with a thorn?

Find yourself a friendly fire
Let this poem burn
If its beauty you aspire
To the lake return

Atop the breezy bluff
O’erlooking all the lake
A flash of red, amidst the sea of green
Summer’s seen enough
Autumn stirs to wake
At Sol’s command, the black gum starts to turn

The world has changed today
Unnoticed by the throng
But some have stood still long enough to feel
The cry calls of the jay
The shadows getting long
The coming of these first sure signs of fall

These some have watched the season
Come and go and come
They know this show shall go and come again
They know this change is reason
That’s caused their mind to roam
Back to all that pleasure or that pain

Their bodies still remember
Those times both cruel and kind
That happened this exact same time of year
One wonders what past ember
Fanned by this fall wind
Blazed back to life to cause their smile or tear

So many levels
Of vision, of existence
Each a door into its own universe

What can you see?
It depends on how you look
A telescope, a microscope?

Or how you travel
A plane, a train, a car, a bike, afoot
Each different speed reveals a different world

Summer’s heat slows a walk
Along familiar paths
Allowing eyes to see
The things they missed before

My garden grows by God’s green hands
I merely mend the trails

I wonder wayward ‘round the wood
Escaped from jealous jails

I find a soft, sweet solace there
Where human logic fails

I am drawn to wounded things
The tattered butterfly
The lonesome dove, the long-lost love
The way we live and die

The terrapin with broken shell
The tree by tree rubbed raw
The broken leaf, the mother’s grief
The mouse in my cat’s maw

Why focus I on things that sigh?
Why not sing happy songs?
To live and die, it helps to cry
The wounds help right the wrongs

We take dawn for granted
Not the wood thrush
He had no way of knowing
If it would come again

When you take to your canoe,
Avoid deep water
Instead, slide slowly long the shore
Hide beneath the hanging oak
Wait upon the show

There lie places of abundance
Transitions
Wake to sleep
Life to death
Water to earth to air

The spider taken by the wasp,
The pointless web remained
Betrayal for the butterfly

There is a silence these spring nights
No human god can fill
I’ve listened faithfully at dark
To hear their lonesome trill
But now I know it’s past the time
For return of the Whip-poor-will

An endless ramble
Through an empty ancient wood
With your soulmate dog
On a cool morning
The universe complete

The Sourwoods sway akimbo
Beneath the windswept Pines
Oh, but to be a scampering squirrel
Joining their dance divine!

Why do we write?
Why read, why share?

Poems are stories
Stories of our terrors and triumphs
Our love and loneliness

Candles calling to each other
Allowing us to huddle in the dark

When a man comes to you
And tells you your own story
Then you will know that your sins are forgiven

Ernest Kuntz and Katherine Ketcham
The Spirituality of Imperfection
1992

The thirsty plant
Need not know
Who pours the water.

Prayers of
thankfulness
Need no deity.

The shadows creep
Out of the deep
Crawling up the shore

Golden sun
Will soon begone
Light will last no more

Frigid breeze
Slides through the trees
Stealing warmth from earth

Dark has come
Into my home
Freezing heart and hearth

Age spotted hands
Type of these lands
That none shall ever read

Yet birds still call
And sparrows fall
Like hairs upon my head

The Lake Has Many Faces

The lake has many faces
Reflecting all our moods
The clouds are full of places
The land is full of floods

The lake turns many colors
From blue to green to grey
The sky becomes another lake
Connected in some way

Like mirrors in a barbershop
One upon each wall
Sky and lake reciprocate
Reflecting one and all

The deadly dark, the lilting light
The sun, the moon, the stars
The need for speed, the crying creed
The beast, the best, the bars

Across the lake a light calls out
Begging me to come
I would if I but knew the way
I can’t find my way home

For fun some say
To pass the day
For reasons still unshown

To feel worthwhile
To cause a smile
To reap what went unsown

To ride the wind
To curse the grind
To perish all that’s lost

To play the game
To hide the shame
To never pay the cost

If all this rhyming makes no sense
Perhaps you’ve never known  
I have but one true audience
An audience of one

Alarm clock’s buzz
Yanked from one world to another
The first so real but fast fading
A mist in morning sun

What was it all about?
Clutching at straws
Blown by this wind of wakening

Think hard
Grasp the remnants with words
Write them on the beach
That bounds this ocean of unconsciousness

But the very act of naming
Is a wave of willfulness
Erasing the words
As soon as they are formed

Cosmo killed a raccoon last night.
Ellen found it by the door.
She heard the ruckus in the middle of the night.
I did not, being a sound sleeper

It’s my job to dispose of his kills.
I grab the shovel to scoop him up
Before the warm September sun
Makes him stink.

I try sliding the shovel under his soft fluffy fur
He falls off as I lift him up
A clumsy undertaker.
I should apologize

Finally, I get him balanced on the blade
Start the long walk up the driveway
Then off into the woods far enough  
To hide his stink and flies

The path through the trees
Is blocked by spiderwebs.
I whisper “I’m sorry”
As I break each strand.

In the cool morning
I throw him rudely across the big ditch  
That might keep the dogs
From dragging him home again.

Standing beside his body
I feel the need for words
Some remembrance
He was once here

I hear the cicadas,
Fewer and slower now
September having slowed their song
They’re singing their own dirge

I was tired, tired of it all
When the black dog came
Full of joy, scratching at my door

He trotted down a darkened path
Into a smothering forest
Stopping only once to see if I would come

Eternal Eden from whence we came
To whence we must return
******* succoring green

What awaits us there?
I know not, and yet
It seems the way to go

Twilight steals what eyesight’s left
Imagination fills the cleft
Fireflies flashing frantic fires
Overload the neuron wires

Ghostly beams steal through the trees
Creating moon mirages
Fairies beckon, promise to please
An **** for the ages

Katy did - Katy didn’t
Unending ancient chorus
Drowning out all other sound
Swallowed by the forest

Blindly stumbling toward the end
All oblivion calls us
Careful where you step my friend
You might become the Walrus

Looking at the Sugarberry tree
Its rough but paper thin bark
Splitting and peeling

Growth is such a painful thing
Is it the same with us?

In truth there is both you and me
Circling each other like a shark
Writhing and reeling

In the end everyone must hang
Please don’t make a fuss

No wonder we chose spring for Easter
All nature joins in resurrection
Today, I found blood on a feather
The reckoning keeps coming faster
Invention killing all connection
Dead bees among the heather

Life and death and in between
A crazy quilt of paradox
Shall we be ****** or saved?
What in heaven does it mean?
Was Jesus crazy like a fox?
Is joy doubled, sorrow halved?

Is it all a gag?
Not knowing gives me chills
Two calves playing tag
Romp over verdant hills

The old man had been alone
For a long time now
How long? Hard to say…
Time had gotten slippery in recent years

No one else lives there
He does it all himself
Cooks, cleans, pays the bills
He had paid them hadn’t he?

He didn’t mind the solitude
It was peaceful
People were a mixed bag
More trouble than they were worth

He had his dog
That mutt that wandered up
And wouldn’t leave
Despite his protestations

Speaking of the dog
Where was he?
When had he last been seen?
Ah, that devil Time again!

Maybe he had run away
Wasted money
On that bag of food
Molding in the pantry

What’s for supper?
Check the fridge
Well, that makes supper simple
An egg or an egg!

Should I check the expiration date?
Not without my glasses
Which had disappeared
Around the same time as the dog

Fried or scrambled?
How about scrambled
Like my brain
Still got my sense of humor!

Turn on the gas
Where the hell are the matches?
That’s right
I took them to the fireplace

I left the TV on?
Yep- Now it’s on the news
Then comes Wheel of Fortune
And final Jeopardy

Whew! I’m out of breath
From that short walk
From the kitchen
To the living room

Better plop down in the recliner
Power back and rest a spell
And anyway
Today’s news seems worth watching

Jeopardy’s on now?
Did I doze off?
I must have
What’s the question?

Something about bombs
And London and World War II
Oh, I know this
It’s a German word!

What’s that smell?
It is so familiar
Tip of my tongue
But I can’t say what it is

Is it danger?
But it seems to smell so sweet
Wait- final Jeopardy is here!
I have to concentrate

World War I
A new weapon
That contains no steel
I know the answer- It’s GAS!

All my shows are over
Nothing left to do but eat and sleep
Christ! I forgot to cook my egg

Grab the matches from the fireplace
Amble back to the stove
Strike the match

First thing every morning
On these cold, dark days
Amidst the bare branches
Above the fallen leaves

They bring something wondrous
I’m not sure how to name it
But I know it like my breath

Seeing them there
Little bits of heat
Hearts beating wildly
Warms mine as well

Emily said it best
Hope’s a thing with feathers

A traitor’s kiss
A child’s return
A fighter’s fist
Ecstasy’s burn

None of these
Can claim the prize
Each knee shall bow
That all might rise

The pasture steams with dusky fog
The poet dreams of his dead dog
The fall of day the rise of night
The people pray that wrong be right

Tiptoe cross the dampened leaves
Listen for nocturnal life
Soak it up and soak it in
Silence is the only sin

Hear the drip and hear the drop
Frost has come and now the rot
Kingfisher sings crazy song
The people pray that right be wrong

Looking over lily pads
Green floats over slate grey sky
Dragon climbs out the lake
Now is time to do or die

You see them oft this time of year
As earth turns dark and cold
Bugs dancing a frenetic pace

What drives them crazy? Is it fear
Of dying ‘fore they’re old
Being omega of their race?

When evening comes so fast and hard
When surface becomes too still
Sky purple/pink with blood

Are they like me once playing cards
Hoping time to ****
Houseman’s cow contented with its cud?

Rhymed to death before its time
By A.E.’s most depressing verse
Assuring though we die, that we die old

Why do we insist on rhyme
That life’s a blessing, death a curse-
A lie the the poets have forever told

So little bugs, please stop and listen
No need to be like Mirthridades
All one must do is to be still and know

Be still and let your cold death christen
Peace in Heaven and in Hades
You don’t have to go on with the show

Eastern Shore

How many poems have I penned
Of this same sunset scene?
What drives my muse to sacrifice
At this altar again?

Lies there some ancient meaning here
That my poor words forsake?
Why do I gasp in awe-filled gaze
Across the mirrored lake?

The last of light flees up the trees
From water into green
And grabs my soul all unawares
And speaks of in between.

Of how there is no certainty,
No solid place to stand,
The only constant, constant change-
How all is shifting sand.

I beg the dying light not leave
I beg the sun stand still
I beg Time’s sands not sift through sieve
I beg Kali not ****

All those prayers go unfulfilled
The night swallows the day
The golden light that each leaf thrilled
Must Hades’ curse obey

Yet as I rage for light I lack
For all the beauty gone
I see a palette of pure black
To paint Orion on

What peace from knowing nothing’s staid
What consecrated bliss!
False idol Permanence betrayed
By sun’s last Judas kiss.

All written because someone died
Or feared the empty hole
Nothingness personified
Talk of heart and soul

Foolish patter in the wind
Whistling in the dark
Yet when we reach that bitter end
Bite is far worse than bark

A subject one cannot ignore
An object lesson learned
“Not yet!” the anguished do implore
Dispensation spurned

A thousand lines to heal the hurt
A thousand doubts remain
The quick remain to feel the quirt
Cling to the old refrain

Faith has brought me safe thus far
Faith will lead me home
But is the answer truly found
In any ancient tome?

Poetry to soothe the sting
Syrupy as molasses
Sweet bye and bye of which we sing
****** of the masses?

Job was poetry they say
As was much of the Bible
When darkness falls we seek a way
A fable or a foible?

Job perhaps has said it best
Explained it all by half
The reason for the final test
Is God’s hilarious laugh

Take this paper written on
Use it to light the fire
Pile the many others on
Make all death poems’ pyre.

Mine-
A hole in the dirt
Begging one dig deeper
No matter what the cost

Yours-
Such a joyous word
Laughing as it gives away
What can n’er be lost

“But Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote on the ground,
as though he heard them not.”
John 8:6

What ran through his mind?
God’s plan?
Man’s inhumanity to man?
Was her husband kind?

Why with his finger?
Dust into dust?
For better or for worse?
God given lust-
A blessing and a curse

What did he write?
Some obtuse design?
A stick figure of His own end?
A solitary hangman’s game?

Was it Words?
To Him to her compare?
******* versus *****?
Which was less, which more?

How to stop this madness-
Stones cast on her head?
Turn them into bread?
**** me in her stead?

No matter what he chose
He was sure to lose

Across the lake
The sun moves
Imperceptibly
Unless you fail to notice

Dare not be distracted!
Should you be lost in reverie
For only moment
All will change on your return

Night comes
Chasing day
Like hounds after the hart
Nipping at the heels

Rushing ‘cross the water
A shadowy Tsumani
Drowning grass and trees
On the other side

A patch of ground
Pine straw strewn
Sheltered from worst wind

Lie down with dogs
Fur hot to touch
Tongues cool to face

Through heavy lids
See magic shows
The sunlight plays

Good poems are like winter
When the fierce wind
Strips trees to X-rays
Nailed to the blinding blue

When the rain scoured air
Cleansed and clear
Pared down to Nothing
Reveals everything

When world, warmth-stripped
Left uncaring, cold
Shakes us awake
From our ambiguous dreams

Good poems are like winter
Much removed, little left
But those few remnants scream
With blood curdling power

Step outside
Walking slow
Cloud above
Sun below
Sky on fire
Rainbow

Heat relieved
Forest drenched
Dripping leaves
Thirst quenched

Almost dark
Firefly
Caught in hand
Letting go
Whip-poor-will
Bursting joy

Poem lines
No pen to write
Hurry home
So memory might
Capture all
I've seen tonight

Roaring breeze approaches
Freeing leaves of their raindrops
Left by morning shower