I’ve found another gem in the creek,
it shines with blue orbs in the sun
and white pearls before a coffee
black canvas.  I will keep this one

but I can’t remember
where I put the last one…  time
took it away on travels tragic— mythic—
and I don’t miss it anymore

now that I have you, my shiny gem,
smoothed geode, cracked
down the center
like the last earthquake that struck my passions

terrified I’ll lose you, I put you away
in a perfect box, in the perfect darkness
of a crawl space crack, a loose closet wallboard

where I will never look again,
hidden
by an idea, hidden
by what I need you to be,
hidden with furious passions

only rivaled
by that of a 12-year-old’s rock collection.

SON
1
making love to make our son I kiss her eyes as if God were inside her
2
my wife gave birth to my son on the floor of the house I built
3
he keeps me up all night ***** on my sleeve feverish cries for his mama until dawn lifts the heads of sunflowers
4
forget poetry going out jazzed our winter born boy needs his diaper changed her ancient *** me house cleaning singing lullabies like a dove
5
wild iris sway as he wades downstream singing
6
one God many stories holding you our son walking the blue earth breathing away the pain with friends
7
amazing the ups and downs my son chasing ducks Sunday eating together my friend’s cancer battle my wife’s selfless moan
8
playing with candlelight my son burnt his finger I warned him
9
shower eat help my son memorize the constellations pay bills watch my wife sleep
10
worried about rats eating wallboard in the dead of night I get up cover my son
11
my son refuses to wear a raincoat in the summer rain
12
in his 2nd grade family drawing: my son gladday ready his mom hugging him me head in the clouds our cat smiling
13
when rains make bitter grass green with laughter my son springs from the winter of his room with his shedding dog and new baseball yelling to his buddies “Wait up!”
14
late afternoon October sycamore shadows blowing elm my son his dog me
15
after days of acid rain the lost sun comes promising heaven sent birds and boys' voices
16
dragged my son up the mountain to watch the meteor shower sons and fathers everywhere I hope
17
my best friend’s grave she loved singing my son asleep now she’s waving grass wildflowers
18
in a vacant lot my freckled face boy floats at the happy end of his 99¢ kite


19
the science of mystical seeds restores your left brain faith in everyday miracles like noisy boys climbing the music of old trees
20
if we could come back her a book of flowers our son blades of grass me the invisible wind
21
6 to 6 deep plowing then wall-to-wall screaming kids a leaky roof the old tractor my darling one naked notebooks full of dreams
22
sling shot boys kick red and gold leaves swirling down the street of locked doors at the tired end of Indian summer
23
my sons reaches for falling snow trampling veined leaves with footloose laughter fearless of winter's night the certain bones
24
true I care more than my son when he plays baseball
25
the orange tree my son planted today will fruit after we’re long gone
26
the bus driver brags about her son’s first home run wishes she could have been there
27
putting flowers on mother’s grave my son holds my hand
28
when night rises I yearn when my son comes home I relax when you sing I surrender
29
WTC on t.v. my son’s face a cloud of tears
30
his father beat him black and blue her husband her their sons their sons
31
the eyes told me that I’d play catch with his sons long after he thought breathed
32
I argued with my son explained the rules he still did what he wanted
33
my boy swaggers down Main St. sure he'll live forever
34
in the back seat good boys brag about good girls what they wanna do with them
35
sleepless until my son comes home late then finally I turn over
and rest
36
the light in my son’s words the silent stones of his tears
37
quiet room unmade bed boys playing in the rain stupid poems awful silence

38
all the dawns evening storms lovely ******* good talk tickled son blow plumeria drift
39
when the stone of night rises I a thief of songs yearn for the music of a woman's light
40
I don't get it gone son lost lover sick friends joyless graying unkissed ******* blood
41
half her half me our son didn't know where to go when she moved out
42
when I'm memory my son might think of me when he's gone I'm only a poem or two
43
bombs hunger lacklove prodigal son abandoned fields come down God get back to work

I never thought brick dreams could tumble in the wind.
My wife collects our scattered memories in a undersized bin
like a child on the tide line collecting beach glass and seashells.
She listen for the sound of blood amidst the dying wind
mistaking rustling pages for her breath cycling in and out,
her pulse beating on the surface of paper, cloth and wood.
She searches for artifacts that match/mismatch my cancer-
the progeny the tornado left scattered in the brick and wallboard.

I listen to the wind and rain ping on my ward’s windows
unaware of her scavenging, unable to sleep in the harsh light
that doesn’t erode the pain or the glitter of memory,
the constant Kabuki of nurses, doctor and blood drawers,
the chant of machines that make me mistake
the sterile for the sacred, the soundtrack for the profound.
I see my wife in the mud, inches from my eyes,
putting away the jagged, clear granules of our life.