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Dan Becker Feb 10
"Yes, you too must leave everything that you cannot control.
It begins with your family, but soon it comes around to your soul."
Leonard Cohen

They held each other,
For comfort and gain,
The scent of her care
Infused my flesh,
His work anchored my doing.
Mountains fell on me,
the world lifted,
The river poured over
And rain doubled back
Dampening the dust
Of their tribe,
Thick in my hair.
Where the river bends
They watch me
Falling, rising
...for my mom and dad, loving parents of nine children!
Dan Becker Feb 10
As I remember
we were derisive
of “The Unbearable Lightness of Being”.
But we were young.
We didn’t have a super moon.
The lion sleeps tonight,
a Saturday night hedged to goodness
by short bread and Crazy Mary
and the little rubber chicken
perched on my desk
with its Homer Simpson beak
clomped tight
in the moonlight.
The day’s errands and shopping,
pulling at the evening’s tidal meal
of day old biscuits and grapefruit,
barbecued beets, bacon and kale
and Justin’s peanut butter cups.
The purchased pants
still tagged on the counter,
my girl lunar
under the moon
lighting my rags and worn soles.
What if we don’t do super
well, gliding with our reckless nostalgia
awash in a champagne supernova?
The last super moon of the year
and the peanut butter cups are gone,
Crazy Mary is old
school, and our souls need replaced?
Dan Becker Jan 27
I painted my lips red as fire,
he kissed them as October tired.
He shaved his cheek, his chin
I nuzzled in,
thistle’s cotton chased the wind.
I strolled a summer’s dress
tight and swaying
by the flirting aspen,
to smudge the chalk of their caress.
He chiseled, I colored,
granite rose, and violets posed…
…and we took our cues
from the sun,
putting a crescent on the moon;
from the shade,
greening the fern;
from the ******,
guarding the cactus;
and from what came
for ripened fruit.
inspired by my wife of 30 years...
Dan Becker Jan 27
is there any reason to continue
when tomorrow’s tears are on your face
the snow white on the land
we love
your hands smiling
into the wings of the angel.
take these wings unbroken
and let them fly
over the song beneath the snow
over the shadows of today
over the redemption we cry for
in the sun and wind
billowing thru yesterday’s dress
flowering in swaying grass.
life laughs for the chance
to live
like we long to sigh
...for my daughter, and all of us, looking for a future for the planet we can laugh in anticipation of.
Dan Becker Jan 27
The horse senses his anticipation.
Beyond prying eyes they’ve ridden,
to this lonely ridge.
From deep within the saddle bag
he slides it out,
smooth and shiny,
glossy, is the kipper snack can.
The contents of the zippered tin
compressed with wide-eyed lust,
are pinched by finger and lapped by tongue,
until the mounted rider
belching pungent love,
clicks his spurs
and licks his salty lips.
Then he calls a giddup,
and flicks another can
spent and bare
to the dusty trail.
...a silly poem about a piece of litter i picked up on hike.
Dan Becker Jan 18
From the elk beds
to barb wire
the lion runs
chasing the cheap
winter of our hand.
its spilt
this wildness,
oozing under our fences
pooling unto the concrete and asphalt.
we slop thru the puddles
booted in complacency,
shielding our futures.
Would that we bled
with what we’ve cut.
...maybe this edit is better?

— The End —