poems and pix

moby

2009-10-18T22:57:00.000-07:00

i am a DOG.
What else is expected of me?
To be like humans?
Impossible!
i live only in the moment
that’s all my brain desires.
It does not need knowing
the world’s shady grays,
its futile arguments
or silly in betweens.

When i love and i run
(are they not the same?)
it’s done full passionate tilt,
never mind if this
morphs me into a drooling
panting puddle every time.
And i know; trust me
i know. i can never catch
those high squawking gulls
and lightning fast squirrels.

i don’t possess their
special abilities to evade
but this never discourages me.
i howl a joyful jealousy.
And i jump, and i bark
bark and jump as high
as i can for crazy birds,
for love and gliding autumn
leaves till exhaustion brings
sleep fitful by your side.

i wake to stare and kiss,
gobble “yucky!” things…
sweet grass and salty earth.
i goof shake and wag
for your angelic face and
big laughter, slender hands
that can do magical things
ooh, a rush when they touch.
Let’s run, let’s jump, can you?
Can you be just like me?

(for my wonderful lovely joyful big-hearted boy)

lavender

2009-10-17T10:52:00.000-07:00

my dog…died
in her sleep last night
her tired heart let go,
her soul slipped out
from a worn body
slowly shedding warmth,
no soft whimper
to disturb my slumber
though my heart sensed
a cool kiss on my face
sometime in the night.

we’d talked once before
- she and i - the moment.
i held her serious face,
her transfixed gaze,
steeled myself gave a
selfish commandment
[when you must leave,
leave me this way:
asleep in my arms
dreaming a love freed
from protest or choice]

smart knew the word love
needless persuasion,
knew also those i never
taught her like empathy
and joy she had draped
over me in grand dogness
generosity; now would
memories alone lift a
heart brooding among the
yellow and bright green
toys gathering silent dust?

my dog…died
compliant in her sleep
my spirit followed
keeping close behind
beneath wild blue
chasing silver butterflies
in lavender fields ethereal
and far from here, and there
sometime in the night
is awakened by a
cool kiss on the face.

*photo with permission and credit to Beverly
http://www.flickr.com/photos/walkadog/3391381010/

little

2009-10-12T20:48:00.000-07:00

It takes so little,
a gray Tuesday,
a biting wind
tearing dry ivies
from these walls,
then my heart is offered
the howling loneliness
of the world
and cries out for you.

It takes so little,
a pulsing ember,
a thin shadow
dancing by itself
through crystal spaces,
then i clutch white knuckled
sheets that remember
your open softness
lifting me high
into the gentle white rush.

It takes so little,
a divine imprint,
a single promise
living forever
in Love's slow time,
then i fall hopelessly
down on trembling knees
and everything collapses
into a dark singularity
where i cease to exist
without you.

(for love remembered and the time we spent together)
* photo with permission and credit to gracious Stephanie Wallace

icu

2009-08-10T21:54:00.000-07:00

i take the empty midnight elevator ride
up into the bowels of the cancer wing
where he lies broken covered in blisters
parched like a shriveled oak leaf fallen
twisting under an August midday sun.
Just the two of us now and his laboring
breaths i time with my own heartbeats.
Undoubtedly, it is here we are confined
to be bluntly shown death and infirmity
that the moment has come, expectedly,
denied, then cruelly inescapable for us.
Morning they’ll pass through here again
found relatives and bleary-eyed friends
trading his quiet peace for condolences
finding my sister ruptured beyond hiding
pains black and heavy as trapped stones
on the dark bottom of a silent river bed.
What can anyone say really on a specter
of an idea not for their comprehension.
What should we say even for each other
when the toxic combination of sedatives
and chemo sets his skin on fire as he casts
delirious away blankets exposing a failed
body to our red welling eyes and oblivion.
So near the end we simply pray for release,
for that moment when we can bring our
father intact home again, a subdued heart
left dignity, dreams grandiose unrealized,
to where our mother sits gazing out from
their bedroom window through the pines
wondering if her journey for love has been
worthwhile after all over the twisting road
of inadequate apologies to wishful reversal
living a widowed irony.

(our Dad who fought a hard, at times heroic, battle and lost to cancer.)
*photo with permission and credit to Chad Latta
http://www.flickr.com/photos/chadlatta/4104477481/in/pool-342145@N24/

friends

2009-07-02T21:49:00.000-07:00

This is my lot forever bound to yours
heart guiltless of shame, pity and hubris
knows not envy for those but glad grace
fate smiles for inside soft palaces of kings.

This is my life forever bound to yours
time rolls curtains slow dawn to darkness
nights echo shine headlights two-by-two
cobblestones cold or wet through seasons.

And this my love forever bound to yours
soothes forgetfulness over thirst or hunger
all hard misjudgments will never stain
all comforts drawn from a gentle touch.

(for all canine best friends and our beloved Casey, Biko and Moby)
*Photo with permission and credit to Paul Watson

illusion

2008-11-20T14:38:00.000-08:00

Who is this pretty bruised woman
bearing children with lost angry men?
And who herself seethes with anger
when choices made not seemingly
forgotten or understood.
Bare ignorance is mine entirely,
no judgment as to reasons, to the end
results. Why would anyone fling
honed daggers at an innocent bystander?

And her wandering children outside
could be pretty or homely,
sweet or sour even…
But should always be pretty and sweet
snug to loins which sprung them right?
Shouldn’t their fragile blossoming bodies
be cradled close to mother and father
(but oh not too so closely now)
in brightly lit family rooms?

And where are those fathers anyway?
Fitting perhaps they hide,
never seem to be around anyhow,
back doorsteps flirting with absence.
Tough lifting and holding i suppose
puny disoriented souls, little pink booties
merry-go-round in mud puddles,
dripping hurt diamonds and pearls
down murky broken waters in the rain.

How long could innocence be contained
framed through a jagged window pane?
Heartbreaks lurking shame weeps alone.
How to keep a scattered family fed
her children’s bed safe and warm?
Too many damp socks too little sunshine
neglected hearts grow restless to unkind
till her weary spent calling love breaths
yearn dazed drifts over the sin white lines.

(from a volunteering stint at a local women's shelter)
*Photo with permission from the generous and gifted Etienne Pisano

now

2008-11-14T16:37:00.000-08:00

Back then, i didn't know
how to see myself
through your longing eyes,
solitary when the mirror
gave a partial frozen image
that couldn't keep itself in your
soft mercy over disbeliefs.

i didn’t know how to cradle
your heart even less mine,
fill it with simple dreams and
reckless abandon for failure
or banishment. Love seemed
far away like a faint distant
beacon through the haze.

My fear risked nothing
still contrived to lose it all.
i stepped to the other side
of an open door then vanished
completely from your light
and witnessed a bright Virgo
drifting through the stars.

Would it be possible now
to retrace my missteps,
sift through the gritty sands
in this barren desert
and find the hidden oasis
waiting in timeless patience
for the traveler’s return?

Or it is simply too late
recollecting hopes in a porous
vessel for a life unbalanced,
and you would kiss me now
more in sympathy than regret
set me free like a lost dove
its troubled journey is undone.

*photo with permission and credit to Keith Watson of Ontario
http://www.flickr.com/photos/keith_watson/421991890/

postcard

2008-10-17T20:59:00.000-07:00

A postcard from my lost love
arrived in my inbox yesterday
tender words her gypsy heart
found respite peace to say
time looped our history
some helpful came a bit late
twisted fate held hers
on chosen separate ways.

Long i dreamt the vision
fault mine skipped a move
what else could be done love
for a virtual piece of you?
blew a mute wandering kiss
drawn to your distant face
traced fingertips like before
heart outlined empty space.

(she prods me till I write amusing little rhymes.)
* postcard with permission and credit to beautiful Colleen

someday

2007-06-20T21:43:00.000-07:00

someday
in that far yet foreseeable future
when our scars no longer matter
and choices return full circle
where we first met for us
to speak of Love again.

charge by absence and time
with a single heartfelt purpose
to bring back the mixed laughter
once heard in our joyful voices
floating above the generous Earth,

together we walk beyond roads
under autumn sanguine colors
fade into dusk without sorrow,
muse a question "what was it
in the balance of all things
turned into our silent disregards?"

and hope lives on
the horizon’s edge of golden light
where our hands search to hold,
our linked shadows softly
into cool evening fall.

take me

2007-04-11T22:58:00.000-07:00

Take me on that tempest’s night,
when flowers fold beneath torrents,
to the secret place where you hide,
unfilled lonely spaces in your heart.

And softly i will come near,
gently touch you enclose you,
melt into you like rays from a fire
on a sharp winter night.

Then you will find me deep within,
a tempered white river flowing dreams.
Love’s unrepressed residual
removed from silence from Time.

Then you will know what i am
always. i am your lived days,
your precious laughter and tears,
and their net worth their everything.

i have come into the placid pool
reflecting your grace a gentle smile.
Epiphanies like stars in your eyes,
chart the blessed course of my life.

*Photo credit to Diddý from the awesome and mystical land of Iceland

loss

2007-03-12T00:01:00.000-07:00

i can
imagine a world without me:
a sun infusing energy potential
and kinetic into all living things
stirring them to movements
through a bright glorious day
and a rose nestles in the leaves
keeps bloom first warmth a while
knowing and sympathetic
to incidental disappearances.

And she who did not speak before
now forgets what needs to be said
not to anyone in particular
but a willingness to listen
about a broken cherished vase.
The child follows a nervous fly
alone in the tidy fragrant kitchen
a thousand fragmented images
living through its eyes
yet nothing for keeping alive.

She swoops his milky lithe body
nudges the patched screen door
brings them into the lush garden
flutter sweet daisies on marigolds
seeds i planted not so long ago.
Tiny laughter twirls in her arms
bright birds feathering a blue wind
forgetting the last menacing storm
gifts to angels while they entertain
thoughts for tomorrows.

(for the fallen soldiers, past and present, who made the ultimate sacrifice)
* Photo with permission and credit to Jonathan at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/27391627@N02/2561628940/

gary

2007-02-17T22:29:00.000-08:00

things which happened here can happen anywhere

collapsing ruins too collapsed to solicit care
could be a prelude of a future that is to come
gnawing on a dream till daylight and then some
factories once pound a hard pulse one can feel
where great cauldrons cook white flowing steel
sweat washes soot from lean and hardened faces
giving men their daily bread and hourly graces
broken ceiling and glass now lie bare and cold
those same faces have since gone or gotten old
sky falling through on top rusty broken ibeams
hard earned treasures turning to dust it seems
livelihood and joy are prisoners of yesterdays
doldrums bid farewell they turn and march away
nothing worth to take no faith to leave behind
no crimes to commit except one of killing time
living by prophets’ light too long might blind
better off finding safe refuge inside the mind
asylums rot off the remnants of the truly sane
crypts forget which despot or mighty’s remains
cathedrals choked by moss by weedy undergrowth
God grants no audience for these lonely ghosts
things which happened here can happen anywhere
collapsing ruins too collapsed to solicit care
could be a prelude of a future that is to come
gnawing on a dream till daylight and then some

*(for Seth, urban explorer extraordinaire, whose life was taken far before its time)
*photo in memory and credit to Seth Thomas a.k.a Def Null of Hobart Indiana, who will live on in the heart and mind of all those he touched.
http://www.seth-thomas.org/about.php