Saturday, December 31, 2016

I like to think I'm self contained,
But I feel the pulls from all the strings attached.
I realize I can't undo what you did to me.
Someone else has got to come along.

Maybe someone can see through
All the jury-rigging.
Someone who has the proper tools
Can fix me right, restore me,
And I'll reclaim myself.

I would do it personally,
But I can't see
All the places inside that need replacing.
It's been so long,
I've forgotten how they're supposed to be.

But someone who knows
And has an interest
In such archaic things,
Could have a lifetime hobby
Of repairing me.


Tuesday, December 27, 2016

I am worthy
To live, to die ,
To touch the sky,
To sing, to dance,
To wear the pants
In my own soul,
To love, to hate,
To want, to wait
For those things I don't want
To pass down the river
Away from me,
So I can be free
To see my dreams come true.


Not to figure skate----
Cause I'm really bad at that.
Worse than that sumo guy
In the geico commercial.

Monday, December 26, 2016

I give you me.
It's all I got.
Anything else would be stolen goods
And put you in jeopardy
Of harboring such merchandise.

And though such trifles
Might just be
A token
Or an afterthought,
Maybe a gift like that would
Be easier to handle.

But I give you me!
And if you can allow me
To be myself,
And persist,
Endure my little ways,
I will thank you
Kindly, in turn,
For takin' it all so well.


Saturday, December 24, 2016

Next year, when summer comes,
I'm going to go and stay outside
All day and soak up every ray
Of golden beams the sun might send
My way. And when night comes,
I'll stay to see the silver threads
The moon sends me, and braid
And tie them from star to star
All through the dark and midnight sky
Until I have a net that's big enough
To get all the dreams I've ever had
And all the things I've yet begun
To think are true, and oh yes,
Big enough, that I might catch you.

And when I do, I may never sleep
Again, or hurt, or weep, until
The days grow short and then
I'll return to my hibernation.
But I'm not  going to miss
A single drop, the slightest chance
To fly or flop, or be happy,
Like I did, last summer.


Monday, December 19, 2016

It's just another accident report,
A blip on the morning news,
A place where traffic will be congested
On your route to get across town.
But when you finally get to work,
The tv will still be on,
And the weathergirl, who looks
Like all the other weathergirls,
Will breathlessly explain
How awful it's going to be today,
And hopes her hairspray holds.

And meanwhile, in Aleppo,
A 16year old boy,
His arm already in a cast,
Is prepped for surgery after his house was bombed.
He will awake to a cast on his leg,
And to the news that he is an orphan,
And brotherless.


Sunday, December 18, 2016

More obedient than Ezekiel,
I cook my cake over coals of human dung,
And just like Jonah, I sit in the shade of a gourd
That I care for more than the people I was sent to save.
And now, on the ship's veranda, I watch the birds.
And like Cassandra, I see the future.
And like Cassandra, I see that
No credit is due me,
By the curse of disbelief,
By the course of my spurned love.

And as it starts to rain I see
Through my paper skin.
My long toes have cleaved yet again,
Deeper, up through the metatarsals
To the cuneiform.
And though I know the abilities
That this morph will bring,
I also see why prophets are not
Respected in their own hometowns.


I reside in a stone home
From whence I never leave or roam,
But once a year, the sun comes in
And brings to light my bones.

The winter solstice shines with pangs,
Exhibit A that Newgrange
Is where I'm bound to be.
Oh, even belief can't set me free
To range and go beyond the galaxy,
Much less Knowth and Dowth.

But once the gods did disappear.
On the day with the longest night of the year,
The light of that sunrise brought great fear
And trembling as they went away.

Geese fly south,
Spend the winter in Summer's warm mouth
Somewhere far away.
But the geese return.
And my heart has yearned
To see the gods again,
To wander and reign with them,
Just east of Knowth and Dowth
And down by the Sea.


Saturday, December 17, 2016

I take an extreme position
So that others have plenty of room
To shy away,

Especially in the bathroom
At the grocery store.
For there's nothing I hate more
Than someone coming to occupy the stall
Right next to me,
When the one furthest down
By the wall was open, too.
I don't want to smell your shoo,
And I don't want you smelling mine.


Friday, December 16, 2016

I cling to kind words
Like ivy twining.
Up and over the veranda I go.
A place, a toehold, here on the chimney
Offers a final culmination
Until a sturdy stem is able
To stretch up above the mortar.

And from this vantage point I see
The breadth of the horizon.
I comprehend
Just as the weight of my understanding
And the bulk of my new growth
Bend my heart, and I droop.
I condescend,
Return to my humble beginnings.
In a freefall of greenery
And low-slung blossoms,
I cascade completely unconcerned
By any words that are said.


Our love is wrapped
In a gunny sack,
Tied together,
Yet, let go for the day
To run in a magical three-legged race,
Here at the bonny fair.

And if we stumble across the line
Just in time to be first place,
We can scurry to get whipped cream on our faces,
And hurry and eat the wares
That are all lined up
For the pie eating contest
And save those professional contenders the worry,
Here at the bonny fair.

For their work is our pleasure,
And we treasure the things
That others have disregarded,
Our sacred, discarded hearts
Still beat, still sing,
Still plead to find their lost ribbons,
And their lost ways,
Here at the bonny fair.


Sunday, December 11, 2016

One-Sided Conversations

Me: What do people wear to this ordeal?

It: Wommmmpwompwompwomp womp wompwomp wommmmp

Me: Mmmmmmm, okaaaaaay. Well, what do other people wear?

It: Wompwomp womp womp wompwomp womp?

Me: Because a place starts out and succeeds because of hard working people who care, and then, all the cool people decide they want to work there, but, they're also lazy bums.

Me: Oh, I thought you said you were a vegetarian?

It:  Wompwompwompwomp womp?

Me: Yes, actually, pepperoni is meat.

Me: Wompwompwompwomp wompwomp womp womp

It: Well, aren't you criticizing me for being critical?

Me: Womp womp wommmmmp

It: Is Pepsi ok?

Me: wompwomp womp
Her: Womp womp wompwomp womp
Me: yeah, I know, you should hear what she says about you.

Me: I thought you'd invited me to come with you to Hawaii.

It: Womp womp womp.

Me: Oh.....Hue.......Vietnam.

It: Womp womp wompwomp wompwomp womp wompwomp wompwomp wompwomp womp womp Wompwompwompwomp womp!

Me: Well, maybe you shouldn't take your dog to the dog park when it's in heat.

Saturday, December 10, 2016

A Christmas Song

I hate christmas,
I do.
It makes me sad.
It makes me blue.
It makes me wanna run away
To China,
Or some other place,
Where it's a day ahead,
Or a day behind,
Some other time than now,
Some other day
Than today.

I'm a live and let live
Kinda soul,
So if you wanna go
And sing your carols, do.
But please remember
To sing Blue Christmas
And If We Make It Thru December
For folks like me,
Who take their Christmas Trees
With a grain of salt
And the hopes
That days will soon grow longer.


They work with old people,
And they don't see
The need for any wrinkle cream
Or much else at all,
Except painkillers.
They work with old people,
So they do see
The end of charade,
The futility
Of everything that tries
To divert the great river.
For they work with old people,
And see. The end game
For the rich, for the poor,
Is always the same.
For those who tried,
Or didn't care,
It's the same everywhere.
We're born without,
And without, we shall return.


Sunday, December 4, 2016

I don't like the river.
He doesn't like the sand.
I don't care to kayak.
He doesn't want to land
And hike along the trail.
I don't like to float
Along and allow the water
To take me somewhere
I might not want to go.
He feels in control
Of the entire seven seas,
Employing the forces of nature
To move him where he pleases,
And this is why sometimes
We can't always see eye to eye,
But as long as we understand that,
We might be ok.


Saturday, December 3, 2016

There's going to be a full moon
In June,
And if you can wait til then,
Summer will finally give up her grudge
And you will be forgiven.
And maybe nothing will ever be the same,
But Time tells me it will.
If nothing else your name will change
From Tundra into Mudd.

But mud is good
For seeds will stick
And ultimately grow.
Let's hope they're good ones
Lying there,
Buried beneath the snow.

They didn't think I should ask
The sun how it was hangin',
And so they disappeared behind my back.
But I was brave,
Or was it brash?
Or did I know instinctively
That I was protected from full view
By my identity?

Only one had ever seen
And had professed
My Perpetual Virgin-ness,
And she had died an early death

But the Sun and I
Got along famously.
He covered me with gold until
My shine was full complete,
And I have never had to compete since,
With anyone but myself.

And even that, now, I fully see
For what it is,
And am letting it go,
As we speak,
Or as you read.
And may you also
Let yours go
And be at peace
With the loving flow
Of who you quite naturally are.