Sheila

Not another word.

Ironic it's the funeral convoy lost its bearings,
and circled west to east and east to west
the Jewish cemetery across the road
from the Christian bone yard
where Sheila was buried.

She had been kosher
before she converted
to Episcopalian.

Give and Take

Life is enriched. nature shows.

The new leaf, the young bud returns to the ground
from whence it sprang.

Life is enriched in the giving.  In finances it is similar.

Money has no value unless it circulates
and renders a healthy return.

Two hundred Years Termite-eaten

He being He,
me being me, 
what can I say?

You call it luck.
I call it grace.
Random or scheduled,

you can't get too cocky.

The Gospel

"Blessed are the peacemakers..."

Steve makes peace.  First he made peace with himself.
Then he made peace with his older brother by not talking to him in 10 years. 
Where peace is, quiet is.  You can not stand by a gravesite, murmur rest in peace
and make a racket.

The Mark of The Beast

You'll die multiple deaths for sure
burdened with guilt.

Seems that's the challenge,
avoiding actions you'll later regret
and forgiving yourself if should've known better.

Forgive you must
but forget negates "never again."

Dark Energy

calm, calm, calm
you can not think clearly
if the chaos has you spinning.

easier said than done ---
of course t's easier to say than do,
that is the beginning

the rest is you and resolution
the rest is calm, clarity
and good conscience.

The Flag

She paints a spiraling sun with arms like an octopus.
She puts to float  divers verses on azure waters.

Not yet twelve, totally a new experience,
her menstrual moment is pending.

Medals of Honors

Mothers' wombs and mothers' tears
peace comes in pauses, but before one ends
another war rages. 

soldiers all. boys and girls

Winter

in winter light
snow gusts story

death follows birth
and through melting glaciers
arrive second chances

tiny organisms lick Antarctica
around icebergs, whales blow

Song of Abigail (haiku version)

a space for us
we love
we do not fret

there is no guilt
where evil is
no more

Song of Abigail

Closet too small for an adult.
Find your own, lay still till the troopers pass.
The bombs bursting in air.
The shuffle of robotic boots.

Haiku Katrina

on crest crash the waves
beach is towed out to sea

Katrina

A shake, a rattle,a burst of flight
a rumble traveling fast.
I saw it half awake.
The morning found me on the crest,
and then the wall of water crashed.

The Last of The Ancient Romans

They try to submerge themselves in erotica,
and invariably emerge feeling shallow.

They try to embrace monotheism and its related mythology,
and feel they could only grasp it were they fed to the lions.

X-con

Quick, run, jump the wall
this could be a free for all
Me the prison is?

The Paddy

The height of bamboo reeds bends to the rush
wind speaks in different tongues.

Sniper crouching in the bush
takes aim and squeezes off a well placed shot.

Again, another myth explodes
somewhere far tells a mother
her hero son ain't coming home.

The Open Fire

Rethink the sky, the berry bush
the circle widens
cinders fly as stars

In Praise of Her

Feline black and washed
steady flames her candle eyes
haiku posed she watched

The Nameless

It dwells by paths overgrown
where once bare-footed families camped in foraging to hunt,
but then the mist advanced and obliterated their traces.

It dwells in the trees in the migration of winds.
Its voice is rustle, murmur and haunting.
Every creature knows its voice.
Sometimes a rumble deep communicates with her.

The Comely Ghost

True One, one day came by my way
poured out his being, a vase of ointment.
I saw his outline more brilliant than a supernova.

The Longest Legs Ever Seen

Season out, season in
the blooms, the fading
the steady drizzle,
an erasure, so walk simple.

In your eye hold out your heart.
Keep your eye on your heart.

You lead, I follow

To start again on the other foot,
the left asks not permission of the right.

Where one's objective is to exact,
two things meet to excite.

The Parsonage

The drapes fell straight and long
were drawn to shield the house
from winter's frost and windows iced.

A fireplace for me alone.
Many the memories buried in the yard.

The Stirring

Your bird song, your entrance
in seasons a day at a time.

One incident introduces another,
then leaves it to dance by itself.

Your nearness, you breath, your seasoning.
A chirping in the bush.

Lady Gwen

Unseen but defined, the smell of Australia.
One day's sailing before reaching Adelaide,
field soaked breezes cross the bow.

T'is the Season

The neighbors downstairs (again) are quarreling.
They will not miss a festive occasion to savage.
Fridays and Saturdays almost always.
Sundays, I think, are reserved for the dieing.

All my life, I've fled from discord.
All my life, confusion conspires to suck me in.

Sweet Loneliness

A drenched sky
a saturated pavement
when winter abounds, there winter surrounds.

Spring seems so very distant,
I dream of Costa Rica.

What is Poetry?

A cascade of sights and sounds, I think.
Language fragmented and reorganized,
to make more acute what you feel
but do not grasp utterly, here and now.

One set of impressions leads to others.
A kaleidoscope of alternate explanations.
The seduction of the unexplained.
A mirror darkly through which you pass.
The secret passage you somehow missed.

A total beyond the sum of its parts,
defined in cosmology as invisible matter
and energy born of quirky fountains.

We Are Our Very Own Closets

Every mood has its own fleece.
You see them in those possessed.
The laughing fool, the grouchy clown,
the merry widow, the monstrous bride.

You can never be certain what lurks inside.

It Comes In Dream

You have your secret haunts from whence you tally forth
and to which you return once I'm exhausted.

You ride, I write.
Fruit bear seeds.
Clouds bring precipitation.

And Well It Is That It Is Not

We were about to leave, when it occurred to both
we ought to say a prayer not knowing if we'll pass again this way
and so we did and so it was we took another path.

Not every prayer gets answered.

Translation

It's hard for me to talk.
Haven't talked for quite a while.
It's why I murmur in the shadows.
Drink deep of the cup which is my native language.

Button Your Shoe

Give us this day our daily pleasure;
simple thoughts and inspiration;
the will to think, the faith to promise.

While the birds still fly, there's still a tomorrow.

First Date

Fire is fire,
a kiss is but a kiss.
Can be a hit or miss by a mile
as crashing meteors often do.

The Gathering of Pollen

You left me glowing.
I am no flashlight nor firefly.
My tail is not florescent.
My lips are not isotopes.
But do you know you left me glowing?

Said a trumpet to Miles Davis.

Make Steam

Enter poet, you've been expected.
Did you bring what you were told;
a stick of incense, candles and the chandelier,
enough kindling to fire the stove?

Did you trudge through the swamp and run the course to get to my cottage?
Did you knock persistently as if to kick in the door,
or timidly turn away when no one appeared to answer?
Are you cognizant that Grandma sometimes cross dresses,
and Little Red Riding Hood ain't all she pretends to be?

Joke

Seek pleasure and you'll find pain.
My eyes are venetian blinds.
You are searing light.

Because I am iced, I seek your warmth.
Because you have heart, I seek your thump.

Possibilities

To invisible ends the gift of space,
the flow of energy in walls, in everything
through which we'd pass invisible
had we the mind,
and the mind were us.

The Lips of The Flower

Under the wet
against the leaves
in the brilliance of darkness
an arm reaches out.

One season melts into another.

Hand In Glove

Here with you
walk with me.
The tree trunks are frosted.
The snow fields glisten.

House

I asked you be my friend
Slow and sad, you pointed up.
Night, then, fell without a thud.

I stand by the fence to see if you'll approach

Let us leave them, before they leave us

Forget your cares.
You walk the beach.
You pause to view the silver surf awhile.

The sun sets.
Turning ink, the sea's presence is a continuous roar,
an occasional flash, and then the winds howl like evil spirits.

Were you to ignore these warnings of storm,
the high water would roll you out without a prayer
to the darts of squid,
to the swim of sharks,
to the habitats of lop-sided beings
traversing the bottom like alien creatures.

If such a fate befalls us...
God spare us!
May we never drown.
Not in water
Not in self pity

But if such a fate were to befall us, though,
betcha, our troubles will forget us lickety-split
sooner than the scavengers slated to pick our bones.

Stormline on The Hudson

Rain slicks the asphalt
speaks syncopation
speaks thunder ripping.

Black mirror flashes;
Hunched and bowed,
we march into the clouds.

Sun Flares and Dyes

Through that last thought
 I stretch, you pale.

The wind on our face
into the woods go we

The Moon blanks
The Sun blackens

A sun storm, nothing more
that sends compass needles reeling

Compose Yourself,

Look at the desolation that is winter.
makes you want to blog the world
and for the world to hug you back.
By "world" I refer to the Animal Kingdon
which would exclude the nasty two footers