Real Time

 

Let all the clocks melt

In Dali resolution

Let me follow the path

Of sunrise to sunset

Call it a day

 

Embrace the great sweeps

The gentle grace seasons

Their subtle majesty

One can breathe in

Tidal breathe out

 

And deeper still

My non ticking mechanism

That tells it is time to stand

To talk, to love until it hurts

And to still love deeper

 

Those myriad changes

That stretches bones

Fills out flesh and muscle

Gradually adjust

Like a slow sink into a hot bath

 

To waters that whisper

The natural erosion

How hair follicles whiten

Eyes that see too much,

Will see less

 

And this time will be real

Not a ticking demon

When the final alarm ring

Echoes in the hollow shell

 

Let me measure the days

Like a Galapagos Tortoise

Chews on a leaf

On his own island

Without clocks

Free Verse Life

 

Never much for meter and rhyme

Or keeping my house in order

Make the bed, wash the dishes

Activities devolves to disorder

All things fall apart

 

Often a single dandelion

On a perfectly manicured lawn

Seeding my inanities

To root in companion’s soil

 

Perfection disturbs

Like the glint of a sharpened knife

Harmony in discord,

Storms and sea

Shape distant shores

 

Give me the dirty, twisted sheets

Last night revery ferment

Lying sideways and empty

On a sticky floor

 

Give me the wild and unkempt

The wandering forest mind

That trips and rights

Then discovers gold

 

Life is thoughtful and orderly

As a swamped levee

To seek the grand and pristine

Is pure levity

We

 

From the mountain top

To the valley we came

See our crystal streams

Sit despondent in stagnant pools

 

You pick among the rocks

Consumed by shiny things

We on the mountain

Know the sun unfiltered

Your people

Always look down

In shadows

 

You bury your dead

Like they were dirty things

We spirit them

To all elements

Beast and insect

 

Our death is happy

Purposeful

 

We leave your valley

It is dark

Settled

Suffocated

In loss

And gathering

Eulogy

 

Here lies

The child stolen

Buried in the space

Created by the rib

Given to Eve

 

This child

Died a pitiful death

Biblical in nature

Learned shame in

False sins

 

Made to believe

History taught by victors

Infinitive

Math problems

Adding up to nothing

 

The child was good

Dutiful to a fault

The fault being

He obeyed

 

Got in line

Like others before

Dull servant/robot consumer

Hair greyed, teeth yellowed

 

‘til the day

The child vanished

Vanquished

To the small space

Haunted by the ghost bone

 

Close to the lungs,

The shallow breathing

Of the monster it had become

Near the beating heart

Where the soul

Was last seen

The Dark Waltz

 

Vacant dance hall

Dark music

Echoes from oblivion

A slow rhythm

Like a dead foot

Dragged across a sidewalk

 

My own feet

Fall in step

 A waltz

That circles inward

Muffled, old tunes

Never fade

 

Just me

And the music

Squirming

Cool worm

Channeled in the hole

Of its’ own creation

 

No eyes

To find light ahead

No up or down

Blue Danube drone

No river, all roots

 

Then I remember

To make tea instead of coffee

Take a walk,

See a friend

 

Blinders off

My hands push

The crash bar

Today and tomorrow

Step from the shadows

 

Outside

A bird is singing

Not for me

But I like the tune

Status Quo

 

I appear content

To you,

I am satisfying as tepid milk

On a summer day

You ask what do I want?

I have no answer

 

I have no answer

To me and you,

About the choices on the menu

Dropped at our table

I choose the first dish I see

The way I picked you

 

And here we are

On a restaurant patio

By a babbling brook

Near a village green

Where an old cannon sits

That children hang and leap from

 

Wars seem far away

But one is right here

Raging within

It is a cold war

With entrenching tools

We are dug in

Trench footed and starving

 

Through this interminable war

Peace only comes at Christmas

Climb from our holes

Cross battlelines

To smoke cigarettes

Play a harmonica

Dream of the home we left behind

 

Then the waiter comes

Asks if we decided

You answer quick

Warm milk on a summer day

I am clueless

aquí

La lluvia es un gran problema

Llegó esta mañana

Vacilante y tímido

Apenas audible

Toques en el hombro de

esta tierra roja del desierto espolvoreado

Rayando el enorme saguaro

Donde generaciones de reyezuelos

Tallaron sus hogares

Ellos y codornices errantes

Haz de la lluvia una razón

Para acurrucarse y refugiarse

Como el sol empapado

Que es demasiado a menudo el invitado

Que se queda después de la fiesta

Reírse de nada

Quemando su presencia borracha

En tu cabeza cansada

Hago una segunda taza de cafe

Toma el aire sepia

Tierra y cielo

Mezclar como uno

Como mis pensamientos y mi respiración

No preocuparse por los relojes o los calendarios

Tomando la naturaleza sometida

Acariciando una taza caliente

Un momento de gracia

Puede parecer eterno

Esta lluvia

No hará nada para calmar

Cepillo marchito

Llena el río Colorado

Pero es lluvia

Con su 'tímida paz

Que transforma

Hace brillar las montañas de obsidiana

Hace la segunda taza

Prueba mejor

Day Life

 

Birthing sun

Dispels dead of night

Pre-school morning

Children temperatures’ taken

Hug teacher’s knees

They scratch and peck

Like hatchlings from Easter eggs

Striped legging girl

Dark curls and eyes

Hops on one foot

Sees her little blue-eyed beau

She will draw

Crayon hearts for him

 

Mid-life day

No cover, no shade

Power lunch martini’s

Sharp attire professionals

At the five-star restaurant

But under tables

Matchbooks balance uneven legs

Band Aid bleeding heel of the Stiletto lady

The executive’s Italian leather shoes

Scuffed, the shine gone, soles worn thin

 

Old man sundown

Walks scruffy mini poodle

Crosses the intersection

Traffic paused red light

Breeze picks up

Billows light white jacket

He is a wrinkled sail

To the dog’s undercurrent pull

The tightwire taut leash

 

White beard stubble

Knotted brow

Senses the umbilical cord snap

Into indifferent night

Knows he could fall

No safety nets

With a dog at the helm

Sniffing for god

Folk song

 

Every night

We made love

In her Yonkers apartment

The tenant above sang

“Where have all the flowers gone?”

 

She would laugh

I would a little although

I was well versed

In loneliness by then

The all too familiar

Polar vortex of emotions

Gone to seed

 

Every night

We loved and laughed

He sang himself to sleep

The three of us holding on

In the random accumulation

Of apartment lives

Like dandelion seeds

Cling to its head

Before the wind

Pries them away

 

I was a winter stray

Stayed to see the melt

Of exhaust blackened snow

The unveiling of candy wrappers

Rustling down avenues

Empty beer cans rolling

Tinny hollow echoes

Bottles not busted, whistled

A tune of absence

Soldiers without a war

Folksingers without a cause

 

Come dirty spring

I was a juror in White Plains

Listening to wire taps

Scratchy recordings

Of a mob attorney lying

Reading Yeats on lunch breaks

Retreating at day’s end to the

Transitory home of a young girl

That gave me all she had:

 

Her cramped city apartment

Nervous laughter

Sweet, purging love

Lullabies of protest

Between paper thin walls

Amid rentals, vacancies and perjuries

Where we once lived

And sang

from The Adventurers and other poems