It;s not easy learning something new

You talk trumpet and alto sax
You talk blues soul attack

The soles of your shoes
have steel taps

You rap on my door
You rap on the windows

I would bid you enter
were you not already dancing

upside down dancing
on my the ceiling

Jack, Jill and The Hill

Jack and Jill went up the hill to scan the horizon below.
Up there, Jill was inspired to spew esoteric.
You see, she  has a doctorate from Harvard in divinity,
and is currently engaged as an Episcopalian minister.

This (in part) is what Jill consecrated
as she and Jack fetched a pale of water
on a windy day in late September.

If seconds from minutes could be deducted
and minutes from hours, likewise, could be deducted,
would it matter absent space and matter?
For none to witness, wouldn't time also be missing?

Jill's ideas often flies over her hubby's head.
He's more down to earth than she.
I reckon, opposites do attract, after all.

You see,Jack's an Aggie degreed in accounting,
who currently owns two Pizza Huts  in Midland.,
the figurative dead center of Texas.

What's this poem about really?  Beats me!
I suppose marriage can be likened to a hill,
a tricky hike top and bottom

Verse Curse and Blessed

Verse comes to her,
or maybe it is she
spirited to verse.

Verse is like rain
that wets the brow
and drips under umbrellas.

What's bugging you?

Compared to us of two legs,
an insect's life is simple;  no good, no evil,
no gods to whom we should plead innocence,
no heaven to imagine nor to wish for

no hell to dread or damn, only eat or be sandwiched.

No couch of Freud, no church on Sundays.

It's human bean's pursuit of happiness which muddles hope
...and then of course, there are bosses, spouses and taxes.
What really then is two legged happiness?  Seems to me,
 happiness - like prune juice - is an extraction.

Seems to me, happiness is an abstract,
but much less essence than it is filler.
Therefore, an insect's life is by far the simpler.
Still, I would not exchange conscience, (good or bad)
for extra legs and stronger jaws to kill with.

Is He?

Is God a mathematician, an author has asked?
I reckon He is in volumes of verse
no one quiet gets,
some have even gone mad.

We stand in awe stricken
before the numbers.
doubt which is science,
faith which is art.

Yesterday's Day Before

She grooms the woods vigorously,
gives the leaves tongues more audible.
She has bounded over the ridge with imprudence,
her petticoats flying, a broom of blue northerner in hand
she smashes the clouds riffs east of Appalachia.

Sometimes, you have the sensation
the world is spinning out of control.
Stiff winds are welcomed, doldrums are not.
On a day such as today, the world must have been created,
though probably not with air conditioned from heaven.

Kurasawa's Ikiru

Fear not death nor long for it.
Let kindness and generosity
be your sole ambition.

To live selflessly is to live.
The snow lands soft.
The swing arcs smoothly.

Step Sprightly

You have but one life to piano
a soul's extension is in the fingers
some might think the penis
a horse of a different issue

Music America

The rail road
the aeroplane
the Hoover Dam
the Mississippi goddamn
the Delta paddle boats
the whiplash
the Brown Bomber
the billy club
The Cathedral of Saint John the Divine
up on the cliffs
The street lamps like trumpets
The flats of Harlem like iron
The bus depots
the cross country jaunts.

All that Jazz.

On Being A Cat

Cats are nature's marvelous gift,
the perfect balance between art and science.

Being a cat wears the heart on padded claws,
our eyes are no sharper than our fangs,
our claws form the feline trinity.

If stars were mice,
if stars could be reached,
they'd have more to worry about
than little black holes.

The Weather Outside

Lawns need wet, roses sun.
Assortment of weather serves them both
like solace soothes hurting souls,
like liberation is experienced in the gales of autumn.

Acute situations are sorted in weather's variables
like sea spray accents ones kinship to salt,
like first blood drawn from an exchange of fists
kinda reminds of the taste of olives.

The sky's lower boundary is lodged at our feet.
On all sides the sky abounds and surrounds us.
The weather's fills these puny lungs.
The other half awaits inhaling.

Good Friday

How many angles in a cross?
Rotated left or right,
how many angles in an "X?"

The measurement of angles,
names them.

From the extension of X's arms and legs,
in dotted lines of the peripheral,
an outer circle is configured.

The total angles of X
360 equals.

Home

How deep the soul which echoes the steppes of Central Asia.
Borodin the melody that does not leave us.

When I contemplate the expanse of night,
I think horse, and I am home again.

Home is what mind echoes and mind reflects.
The earth I walk is itself a nomad.

The seasons are its treks.

One World, One Origin

Before the keys of piano
of Robert Schumann
were,

icicle meltdown
dropped by drop
into a pool symphonic

that gathers
of every race
and of every nook.