On the Moon

You hold me close and kiss me;
your skin is shaded, and warm.
It ripples under my lips, and soothes
my aching teeth.
It softens my resolve.
Your voice pushes clouds sweetly
around and around my head, and
bubbles flow from your mouth;
you are celestial.
Cool breezes pass between.
I fold my wings, and hit the ground
shuddering, wobbly and dull-
my bones are shaken,
so the world changes.





i think a quiet thing is in order 

have we crossed the line do you
see my face in your mind do your
dreams surround me do you remember
how i joked with you
that i touched your hand and i couldn't
look at you - were you hurt  - i didn't mean 
it, my heart was pounding and i
was scared to look up. are you
after a drill bit? i can help you
in that dark aisle where your skin
disappears and all that shines
are your eyes and your voice is softly
telling me "i need a quarter-inch extension"
how can i get there from here




Deathbed

When Dad fell over I came to the hospital
and whispered in his hairy ear
I didn't want to say I loved him, but out it came
one of the many favors God has done me.

He was still alive then; he moved as if
he had heard me. I was frightened -
It was the biggest reaction I had ever gotten
from that man, and I wonder what
did any of the others say? I know my brother never came.
 
When they took the tubes out, I saw you holding his feet -
and your face was twitching
I could not tell
Were you sad because he lay dying, or
afraid that he might wake up?


Special

Everyone says I'm Special
but nobody cares to stay
I guess I'm not so special
Any- fuckin- way





 For My Grandchildren

I have been younger, and
I have been old
having sipped from black bottles
and sucked thru straws
draughts have made me.
I want to tell someone 
that I've been and come, and that 
it was blinding, yeah, it stomped
down on me;
it was righteous.
So you future children, listen;
I will always love you. Touch
the elephant
duck under the ladder. Pee
in the bathtub.
Pet the black cat, for cryin' out loud.
Most of the time, the planets
merely chortle. I promise
Another rainbow is on the way.





"Will Work for Food"

Mr. Harley Bishop, his 
crimson head off-
kilter, his pores oozing
is it sweat? 
Wanders into the store
like a blind man with no dog.
Shoulders slumped like a wilting cross,
he carries a cardboard sign 
one of his creased appendages.
My boss thinks he's going to steal
I only smell gin.
His button-down is grimy,
shoes duct-taped.
His neck is twisted like the tree trunk
tied down with a brassiere
you know, the one by 
the swimming hole.
Harley's hands, huge
slabs of raw meat, are
born from buttoned cuffs.
Mr. H. Bishop smells,
but keep your poker face.
His eyes look sideways, and I'm pretty
sure he knows
what you're thinking.










The Window-Dweller

The window dweller, worm-like, sits
unmoving his life
reliving his glory days 
crawling over the dazzling glass.

Somewhere in his torqued-up mind spinning
swarms of cells tell him
that angels come from
worms
and bodies are 
always brighter when winged.

"Look!" he says, and I actually do.

I sit with him
looking in chambers darkly at
the inner hornet's nest
that fixed and welded each
of us
imperfect, seperate, confined.

I know the way to
reach him
but then he runs away.





A Crimp in My Life

the fear (it is panic) inside
scares me stupid

I know this; I find it appalling, and 
I am considering sleeping with you.

As a friend, of course.

You know, I did love occasionally in my youth;
it wasn't all it's cracked
up to be
What do you think of these burdens, and remember,
I am not cured- though
my age lines are deep now.

Do you feel in the mood to 
pay for my childhood stomach
aches?

Tell me something;
please don't tell me anything.





Heart Cavities

I thought you were interested; admit it - you caused
(delicious obscenities)
to be born in my mind, but in the end you turned 
to stone, so this
is (holy shit) the end
so soon into the beginning
(a crying shame)
And I really liked
the insides of your arms; some other
places I glimpsed
really warrented more 
study.

Beneath my complete greenness I have
(what's left)
tears and a half-moon void filled 
with a sadness I cannot arrest; my desire
(so trivial)
that it's easily washed over with your
(oh my God) smile
and some bullshit talk; yeah I'll see you later.
Asshole.





Terrible Cradle

I have grown from a terrible cradle
robbed when I was just twelve
held by a thread to the universe,
saw it all through a citron veil.

I flash on serenity sometimes
view all as the purest array:
the lemon shrines, the bricks of life-
maybe lit with a subtle gleam! 

The humble clusters of rust underfoot
the radiant shards of the day-
and just when I can't hold on anymore
the wine comes to take it away.

Watch for me at your window
I will steal from you with my eyes-
suck an hour from your carpeted hallway
halt the feverish destruction of lives.





Untitled

I wish it would be over
Please, just go away
I don't think I was meant to be
alive for all that long
Have I left you with enough
Have I done my part?
I think you'd miss me for a while
Then I'd segue into being
the wallpaper, or the rug-
perhaps the bathroom sink.
Maybe you'd rip me up
or tear me down, or
hit me when I didn't work.





My Terror

I'm afraid as I set these plants in the ground
that I will have to leave.
I cut the grass and watch
our son run down the backyard-
that funny, head-down run!
I'm afraid I will have to leave.
I water the new clematis.

As I put seeds in the ground
and mulch the hostas
I am very afraid that I will have to leave.
I paint the porch, and rearrange the furniture.
I make fajitas and cookies
for Johnny's lunchbox tomorrow.

I picked this house, it was my idea.
Just because you remain demonized,
does this mean that I should give
something else away?

I scratched 'home' in the concrete
of the front walk 
when I repaired the steps-
doesn't that make it mine?
I know you have a claim here,
I see your ghost around-

but when you had it to yourself
you chained up dogs and tore the lawn.
When I came back I cleaned inches of filth away.

This is my home, but I do not own it
I cannot count on you; 
you never realized the importance
of flowers.

Abby calls from an upstairs window;
Sara swings
on the swing that is gone.
I smell the hyacinths; the tulips
are coming up.
I put six new mums by the side of the shed.





Sunflower

Despite many hours spent in Tahiti
with Paul, Pollack and Picasso...
she never flowered - won't allow it!
Colored raw umber, canary yellow,
but mostly cadmium red - 
this wahini holds a direct, earless perspective.

Innumerable drips of a paint tube
have brought her to life: a sunflower.
Her brain, a mess of absinthe,
her heart, a bleeding sore.
Her bravery ignited-
and her life! A twisted kite string.

A dirty pearl, she rolls in on a wave,
and shines quite by accident.
Her mind screams out old restrictions;
She tries to remember she's good.
She's taking in all the scenery;
and carries the future
wrapped in rubber bands.



"The future wrapped in rubber bands," is lifted from an Ann Tyler novel called Breathing Lessons.
Please forgive me. It was too great a line to pass up. But I'll change it if you want me to.





I smoke

I asked scurrying rodents to defecate
on the ledges of my lungs;
It's a curse I depise.
I laugh
I live
I die -
Ungodly and Divine
clever, old and apart
A used human, still great
I've walked over Dante's ground
hot searing puffs burning
all the way down -
I hear the music! Oh God!
Hell's stanza is mine.




I know the following poem contains repeat of the 'flowers' line from a poem above-

 I'm working on it- I'm just always trying to make all of them sound better.



Trying To Dream
 
When something's missing,
tell the doll on the desk that
you've found out the importance of flowers
and that every second smells delicious
Put it down on paper, dear
print it on your heart.





A Party
 
Like a sick satillite I cruised quietly
around and around the edge,
bumping into this & that-
my uncertain laugh
met by acid glare.
Rumblings followed my departure.
On the balcony
the shadowy skyline resembled
my indistinct misery,
but I knew splendor -
a crescent moon graced the sky





Half-Life

Time is running out
and I have gone long without comfort.
Still alive, I paint the world.
Here is my muse:
a hand, the cold,
a rug, and sky.
Grass, moon, trash truck,
child's eyes.





Short Flight

You started it with
your salty beard and
your gentle seagull's thoughts:
I suspected embers on the horizon.

I felt you in morning currents and
in night currents:
your dark elements hummed.

One day you mouthed your betrayal
and I slipped from your piscene grasp;
I fell to the depths of your briny home.





Take a Bow

Children
hiding the tracks 
of their complicated toys
on their crippled, 
outstretched arms.
They're jesters.
Giant pants;
studded faces -
their hair purple, and white, and 
green.
They dance around, they jingle;
they misbehave, for you!
They're hoping to hear
the warm sound of applause.





Boldridge's Farm

Green moonlight shaded
by the sketchbook Gods, and
the field is crusted over.
A million hilltops flow before us;
we are the weaving wounded.
We climb high silos
above snowy fields, and
sneezing, we drop the flashlight.
Then we hang 
over the edge of the loft.
Our hearts want to know
if this could be love:
our dripping noses answer. 





My Stupid Brain

My stupid brain
trumpets restrictions;
the desperate inventions
of my rotten core.
Restoring the patterns 
of many old years
and moving me
farther away from you.





Watching You Taste

Intermittently furious,
you spiral down
Sand inside an hourglass.
Your tongue, born wild
Stand still and smile
welcoming pain that you 
ask for.
Scream peacefully,
glance over at me, and
gracefully avoid dying.





Front Porch

The husks of our life
Lay scattered around me;
The wind lifts them one by one.

Memories sail slowly by 
Like half-forgotten ghosts, softly
murmuring in their shrouds.

History and teardrops:
Tinny music playing
On a distant radio.





Tricked

Love bloomed on a green morning
All innocence,
you were covered in lilacs.
Your gun cocked and loaded;
Your real eyes
peering through the scented leaves.

I never knew what hit me;
You covered me in blood.





Lingering Tragedy

The day you trespassed
on my nakedness
My limbs were confused.
And so I began 
My long
Fallen season.

I became a chameleon,
Showing nothing.
Leaves covered my
Important parts.

Our lingering tragedy:
Mapped forever in the scales
armoring my body
and in the
Rivulets of my life.





Sunday Afternoon

A dripping cloud is hanging outside
My ragged thoughts are
scraping like concrete
Bloodying once bright terrains
In my mind.
Like my mattress,
the soft world sags away.





A Beginning

Before the sun comes up
I indulge my flopping heart.
What ecstasy somehow -
Feasting on visions.
Curled in the shadows,
I imagine your face, and
I am filled.





Coastal Backdrop

Ancient battered gulls-
Silver wings glisten.
Brazen green flecks dance
Where footprints delineate
the edge of the world.
Endless, humbling 
Streaked sky.




The following poem was written by putting the letters of my name into the Anagram Machine, 
as suggested by one of the exercises at the poetry site Taverners Koans. Don't worry - it doesn't 
need to make sense to you. But I get it :)


Intern Skin

silent inlet 
inner link
kin list
lint

risen siren 
knelt til lit
lest i irk
rent, i sink

knead darken sin
a laden risk
inlaid
denial isn't






Untitled

An arid matter
my textured wrath
palpable heat:
a smooth comeback
mountainous rage
acceptance of that

life is hard
life is sweet
full of mountains
full of meat
if you stop
to scratch your feet

you may be forgotten





Working at the Wal-Mart

A red checkered skirt and
bobby socks -
a child's outfit, really.
The woman walks by;
she seems zen.
I get the feeling that
she doesn't have to worry 
about the light bill.
I know it's ridiculous!
We all have our adopted paths.
But that skirt has earned her
my dusty jealousy, 
my mild grimy hatred,
my scratchy-eyed 
indifference.






Basement

Standing before your chair
Searching your bloodshot eyes
"Well, what is it?" as I try to talk; 
Incoherent

Your eyes on the TV, your long yellow fingers 
reaching for the zippo -
the cigarette dangling fom your mouth.

I twist my leg behind me;
I stare at your profile.
My mumbling soul
dies; dangling.

I am sweet and painful
Bleeding promised love.






Water Life ("Don't you ever smile?")


Water around my ankles
water up to my knees
water over my head
filling the room, the house
The World

Water Life
Like a cult
No way out

I'm pushing through
swinging my arms
dragging my legs
holding my breath
pain

Water Life
Like a cult
No way out

Water pressure 
smashing my skull
my thoughts implode
a scattered
splattered mess

Water Life
Like a cult
No way out

I'm pushing off
My arms stretch up
My feet are kicking
Bubbles escape 
from my mouth as I scream

They pop at the top
No one hears





Grandpa

Grandpa took us to the gorge
Down the road a ways
The dew was wet upon the grass
The air a golden haze

He showed us how to skip a rock
And what an echo was
We asked him why the flowers grew
He answered "Just because"

When he knelt beside us
His shoulders blocked the sun
And when I had to pee he said
Go in the bushes, son!






The Pit

Lost in the middle of my life
I always thought of you
But I failed again and again as I tried
to break through...

I bashed my head against the wall
never knowing what I was doing
I wounded the ones I loved the most
The ones that couldn't know

I'm sorry that I hurt you guys
I'm sorry I was so

stupid

thoughtless

drunk and

stoned

helpless

drowning and

alone

Throughout the years of sadness
I tried to show you love
I felt it shine out like a star

Please let it be enough






Route 640

old pickup truck on a country road
dappled with shadow and light
engine rumbling, gravel crunching
the dust billows up and then
settles on the fenders 
we stop and we watch the creek tumbling by
we sit in the summer warmth
my daughter smiles; her glasses sparkle
One perfect moment in time.






My Son

My son is out there somewhere
His ennui very deep
His thoughts he doesn't tell me
His secrets his to keep
I wonder what he's thinking
and if I cross his mind
I wonder what we'd do if
we had back all that time
My son is quite the man now
He's tall and smart and kind
I wonder what he'd be like
If I hadn't been so blind
There's a gulf between us
That I can never cross
I wonder if he knows the pain
I feel at his loss
I guess he's lying in his bed
thinking what he thinks of
I think he's crying in his head
For the life he's always dreamed of
Dream of me
Dream of me
You know I love you so
Send your thoughts across the miles
Why did I let you go







Snail Slide

I reached in my pocket to get the pills
and came out with a little plastic skeleton
I hung it in the kitchen 
to prove I wouldn't die
and I swallowed them anyway
Around and around
down the glistening snail slide-
is this what my brain looks like?
I landed with a thump
Heaven.






Sleep Right

Anytime you close the eyes
you have to tighten up!

wrap your arms across your chest
tuck the fingers in-
you have to twist the legs up tight

then you get the blankets right-

nothing can be hanging out

'cause that's the way it is down here
that's the way it is.







Spring

fat robins poking in
pale strands of grass 
promise of sunshine
mud comes to pass

my shrivelled lungs open
my thoughts rise above
my hips start to swivel
my life is enough

humming songs softly
I can't stop a smile
thanks for the warm air
young, for a while







In The Morning

Rolling warmly out of bed
rumpled flannelled crumpled

shaking, stretching, kvetching,
sweetly. smelling. swelling.
brushing- blushing- flushing- then the

fluffy-flipping-frenzy!
neckbone bent
eyelash fingers fluttering

Pulling turning whirling
 - twirling!
running down the stairs -

golden-red sparkles trailing behind her:
Abby's going to school







Why I say no

You'll patiently interfere
-Certainly nothing beyond sane!
And with another long crash
We will end







I Was Born

I was born to have a good time
I was born to shrug it off

I was born to tip the bottle
I was born to try and laugh

I was born to be hung over
I was born to cough cough cough

I was born to be like Dad
I like to drink, I like to smoke

He taught me how to be this bad
And my Mom don't get the joke.