In the shadow of the Cairo
(yellow-bodied, stony-crowned,

its high and untroubled brow
gazing over our fleeting forms

as we scamper to small habits)
I think of you O love, though

(rain heads are drifting east
in humid fists of fat vapor,

air hangs in cloying squares)
the city is all alcoholic laughter.

Or maybe that's me projecting
(I grew up in a green country

with cornstalk and cow, my room
brimmed with book and song;

after that first divorce I collapsed
down into a city that teemed

with such friendly drink, helped me
forget a clever father who left me,

a lock-in mother who didn't care,
forget sweethearts waltzing away,

friends turning and fading, fires
I ate as they ate me in turn).

Now it's a hundred and change
in the Cairo's shade and I think

of you, sweet one. This yellow king
sweeps a wide view over the bake

of the block as I wander down
to finish your teal. (O, I'm alone,

always alone, but with you
I'm a little less aware of it).

Stay with me and touch me -
remind me why I'm still alive.

Tether me with flowers
bring me sunshine everyday !
Do not ruffle up my feathers
when I'm doing it my way !
Fasten smiles upon me say,      
"Go ahead, do it your way !"

Silent flowing stream
kissed by gentle morning light
lush green field beside

She’s learning to be silent
To move with the waves of the sea
Crashing against her body
Each wave taking her further and further until she is no where to be seen
She is learning that she is not drowning
There is no need for a life vest
There is no need for someone to come save her
She is learning that family can be a neighbor
She is learning that love is labor and a labor of love is worth earning
There is no boat for her here
There is only storms to take her further as she awaits to stumble on some beautiful island
To be at peace with the sea
To be able to stand on land
To succeed once she’s freed

we sit quietly here, fretting

over nothing in particular.



some bemoan their lot,

others get on with it willingly.



stop and have a cup of tea.



while others walk in #ice and mud,

while others #drown,

while others #starve.



without a #cup of tea.

I don't rage
against the dying
of the light
instead
I walk gently
into that good night

for
life I've lived
in both wrong
and right-
thousands of scenes
have I felt
and passed
before my sight

rage is a sign
of non-acceptance
a sense of loss
and plight

I've loved
I've suffered
I've sung
I've danced
I've risen
I've fallen
I've wept
I've sighed

but still
I'm unbroken
though
the harshest
life has spoken
in many a blight

so tender
so comforting
so soothing
is tonight

life
is the alternation
of the dark
and the light
the mounting on
and stepping aside

I've no rage
nor regret
I've no fright
my footsteps
are firm and sure
as I alone walk
into the this
long, good night.

~
Tonight underneath debris
Family foreclosure
...
Heaven's legs dawn through window
Offer artificial hope
...
Employee to love
Dressed for escape
...
Pleasure town angel
A multi-colored pretty thing
...
Mom questions way
Daughter drives to parties
...
Empty lips talk
**** reflection patterns
...
Death inside mom and dad
Beautifully cold skin
...
War god kiss
Midnight blue people (at dinner table)
...
Young shadows flower
Final stars fire
...
Money born cloud
Raining on remnants of family
...
Is there nothing
Left to mortgage?
~

The poet inside me sleeps,
curled up in the nut he rests,
perhaps he has died
and he lies, stiff and cold,
I do not think he is no more,
the occasional snore can be heard
a tumbling phrase or sybillant vowel
escape his lips,
errant ships that pass,
otherwise he lies
a dormant beast, waiting for spring
and the filtered sunshine that his words might bring

Yes. Ride up the Yukon in winter –
No one to stop you.

I can see your tracks threading northward
and, once you start, it won't take so long

to get there, to the end, if it matters.
They say starting’s the hard part,

to get ready, tighten the straps,
test all your gear, all the training.

The winters have come and gone,
but the frozen river waits for you

to pedal through the deep snow,
because you will, now that you've started;

covered in ice, squinting in the glare,
and it was enough to keep pumping the legs,

filling the lungs, singing a song, to follow
the river north in the winter. Happy

to be there, in that blinding light,
with feet too frozen to start for home.