Monday, April 28, 2008

Mornings Alone in the Bungalow

Nowadays, my dreams
are mostly about

In the early morning
my night dreams and day dreams
join. There is a bolt of breakfast at 3 am

and hours of fantasy, laughable,
lamentable, perverse, away in a distant mental place
where most of my verbal landscape is.

Then I get up, take a walk,
look for health, try to wake in the cold
conscious country.

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Beach Volley Ball

Most of them didn't really know
where they were. A net was set up
in the un-sunny sun room
multi-purpose board room conversion.

Appropriate California music blared
while the sky was darkening,
and we were losing the Spring,
with hints of snow in late April.

On the wall above the
hallway door, a sign read "beach."

Icy mixtures of fruitless fruity stuff
were called margaritas and daiquiris,
served with colorful plates of grapes and melon balls.

Wheel chairs and cushioned
veneer seats were arranged in arbitrary teams
of people brought from upstairs floors.

Those who were able leisurely bounced
a large red balloon toward the net.

No one kept score.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Beatitude of Six Months Hannah

When the baby is well fed
she smiles not with well being
but with beneficence,

deep into my face as if promising
a special gift, wishing honor and fortune.
princess of prophecy, savior of the world,
reincarnation of Düsum Khyenpa,

regards me with kindness,
guards me within her
protective shield,
knows my thoughts
and judges me charitably.

I leave her and my face
shines golden with her blessing.
I stand out, singular in a crowd ,
fitted into the cross word
puzzle of her mind.

And when her face
curls into a cry, it all goes

Saturday, April 19, 2008

Hem and Haw (written 2004)

Two epiphanies a week
should I be grateful?
That is God's ration
as my brain breathes
and pumps bubbles of process,
like bits of blood in a drip.
My mind
ticks and whizzes
but there is an
animal pace,
a pace of flesh.

Friday, April 18, 2008

The Stretch of My Arm in the Morning (on Buying a New Camera)

I merely stopped sleeping
eyes on the forest
the soft pathways.

I will be safe if I conserve.
This can be a paradise
with all the sugars provided.

Out there
beyond the trees
where my decisions take me,

The Evil Eye awaits,
with a smile
on his face.

Monday, April 14, 2008

Statement to a Shadow

When I close my eyes, images of common things
play on my inner dream eyelid,
movies of talking to you.

But you are a dream I had in the past.
You are the fresh face on the brand new street.
You are the shared touch of hand on hand I

was not entitled to then.
Much less am I
entitled to you now.

Sunday, April 13, 2008


Wednesday, April 09, 2008

A Most Embarrassing Confession

What could be
less defensible
than finding one's-self

Supplicant, I reach up
with my hand often enough,
while time passes
unjustly, no one
stopping to lift me.

I am so certain I am
wounded and live injured
with a heart scarred.
I grow wonderful tears
and my prayers are
bent poems.

What could be
less defensible
than being content?

Friday, April 04, 2008


You are,
from imaginary outside,
aloof, forbidding,
with the face of a judge.

A question always of
worthiness, economics,
real politik. It's hard
for us puppy-faces
to be taken seriously
when you say how you
wear those heels
and let the sheer will of your
well-worded crossed legs flash.

But here you are, well not
in person, but revealed as if
I stripped off a mask of flesh
and silk. I enter your house
as you watch me unseen
from above. I feel compelled
to entertain you fast and slip
quickly into the overheated corridor.
The structure is laced
with subtlety, mysterious
puzzelling structures.I twist
and turn in your passage
wanting now to
touch them all.

And you, responding in secret
with invisible coolness
surprise me with
a symbollic
yes I did.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008


When you are young
and unschooled in the future
you can't tell the difference
between your ass and the globe.

Only the bravest of you
can cast out your anchor
and say this is home. That
is risk when you are young.

It's much easier
to exersize a boundless
expectation, not to contain
your person to a place
and to reason.

Sometime in May, 1957,
Allen Evry, teacher of art stood
on the Wheaton High School stage
and announced that all the students
should get to know me, that
some day I would be as
famous as Van Gogh.

Thus was born a tiny parasite
which grew in my heart and still
whispers under layers of
fatted misstep.

Three years after
the thing was born, Allen Evry
retired as teacher of art,
left for the North Carolina swamp,
and wouldn't say goodbye.