Used Years

I prefer new jeans to new years
You can't return new years
You can't wear them with the tags still on
Even if you match them up with a shirt that is a bit too long
They shrink
Continually
And without a single wash
I'd really prefer used years
They all last the same amount of time
Regardless of how many bangles and baubles get added
At least with jeans
Regardless of how often you crawl around on all fours
Until the knees go
You can pretend that they never will

Socialist Parenting

My son

Sometimes talks in his sleep

Right through the monitor

At me              

To me

It’s never anything I can understand but

I listen and

When it stops

I smile to myself and

For the nonexistent spy cameras

Then I go back to work and

The next morning

I make sure

To give him an extra hug

Look him straight in the eye and

Tell him I love him

For the non-existent spy cameras

For history

For God and

For posterity

His and

Mine

Talking About Flint

When you talk to your wife or

Friend

For the first time

After meeting a man

Who bears the scars of torture and abuse

Emotional, physical and

Otherwise              

Openly

Do you tell your wife

Brother 

Uncle or

Friend

Facebook or otherwise

About this guys

Wicked

Backhand 

His

Disconcerting

Ability to get right to the issue and

His 

Startling

Smile

form as function

first five syllables

then seven and a peek       

at snow, leaves, or rain

The Blurry Lines Between Fall, Winter, and Spring

No coat in the car

For trips over an hour

Rain or shine or snow

The attraction of the night

Driving at night
On the expressway
You will never see the face of another driver
truth be told
It's often hard
In little light
With your attention where it should be
On the road
On the task at hand
To see the person next to you
If there is one
To talk to them
If there is one
To think about them at all
With all those other people out there
Just headlights in the night

The smell of life

Standing in front of the live nativity

My daughter smelled 

Farm

Sheep

Goats

Cows and a donkey

Shitting as we watched

My son

Who can't stand the smell of cooked chicken

Said

All he noticed

Was

The smell of life

The truth is

Of course

That they were both right

From Christmas And Into The Gutter

A warm and rainy
Christmas Eve Eve
Eve
Has come and gone
Now we have only two eves left
Tomorrow
We'll be down to one and
Then
We'll find ourselves on
New Year's Eve
Eve
Eve
Eve
Eve
Eve
Eve
Counting down again
To the day
When
All we'll have are
Eaves-troughs
Still full of fall leaves and
Probably still bereft of snow

Packaging Doesn't Always Matter

red suit, red hat, red nose on
a dark snowless, starless night
might as well be black

Christmas Dreaming

short sleeve shirts outside
and unopened gifts inside
where I'm still dreaming

December 20th

I am December 20th
Maybe you are December 22nd
Are you
I do hope so
Because really
It is all that most of us can aspire to
Like a sports nut
Playing a sport
Any sport
At the collegiate level or
A reindeer
Being assigned a job from Santa
Even if it is only playing with kittens
Who wouldn't want to be paid to catch footballs on Sunday or
Be in line in front of Santa's sleigh
Bells ringing
Breath just visible in the dwindling light
It's not living on the moon
It's visiting and
Who wouldn't want to visit
No one
That's who but
Want it or not
I'm December 20th
Fun
Smart
Festive
Sought after
Full of hope and
Anticipation and
Always aware
Come December 21st
That I could have been
February 18th

moving beyond first impression parenting

bare feet sticking out
mom in mittens boots and hat
stroller moves briskly

the entitlement of every american

snow falls outside while

my daughter studies and oat

meal cookies bake

We The People ...

We

The

People

Wanted

Improved union

Unison

Unity

And

Sought Justice

Peace

Safety

Welfare

For right now and

The future

For us and

Everyone else

Freedom

Coming last

Unrecognizable

Responsible

Responsibility

Liberty

After all

We were

Not

A Person

We were

The

People

Freedom

Freedom

To speak

To worship

To assemble

To vote

To starve

To remain ignorant

To hate

To leave

To be

You

And

Me

White and Red Christmas

It's mid December and

The snow is accumulating outside as fast as the

Expenses on my spreadsheet 

All signs point to a 

White

and

Red

Christmas

blind faith, kids, and winter

Eyes closed and tongue out

Nothing within range is safe

Except the snowflakes

Protected Speech

Expression is inherently partial
Unfinished
Inadequate
Often public and
Seemingly always prone to feedback
I mused
As I drew in crayon on my paper place mat at the cocoa diner
I reflected
As I watched multiple three
Four and
Five year olds
Tear around the lobby
At eleven at night
Only one wearing polka dots
Which takes courage if you are over the age of eleven
But before eleven
Is protected speech

Tis' The Season of Excess ... No Quarter For The Weary

There's a quarter on my desk
With less than two weeks until Christmas
It's a dead George walking
Out

relax and get overwhelmed with the rest of us

We don’t have to leave for ten minutes

That’s one trip to the bathroom for everyone and

Two for your grandaughter

Including a four minute handwahsing session including tears

Because she thinks she’ll be left behind

It’s also one complete wardrobe change and hair brushing nightmare

Complete with screams and tears

And a tour of the Christmas decorations and

His birthday gifts

Again

Plus there are dishes to do

Basketball scores to check

Fried potatoes to taste and

Doublehceking of the time of the holiday concert

Yet to do

So …

Take off your jacket and

Stay a while or

Twelve minutes

Or so

Snow Days and Tomorrows

I was staring at my kids
Through a slowly growing hole in the ice on the windshield
Whose receding I was facilitating
However haphazardly
Pain beginning to radiate inwards
From my fingertips
When the windshield wiper buckled
Leaving half of it dangling like the broken wing of a bird
Cowering in anticipation of the words of some distinguished gentleman
With a British accent
Proclaiming that the end had come and
Indeed there was little doubt that the end had come
That
The
Snow
Day
Was
Over

Evidence of a failure in religious education

Jesus’ mom was Mary

His dad was Joseph

He had no electricity

No model trains and

Was nailed to a t and

Died and

Now we celebrate his birthday

Merry Christmas

Winter Warfare

Only sporadic

Clumps of snow fight on waiting

For reinforcements

Ruminations on 75%

Some day far in the future

When I am looking back to this December

December 2013

Sitting in Adirondack chairs on the back porch with

Grama

I wonder if it will feel like I am star gazing with a

Telascope 

Or looking down on another planet from the

Space Suttle 

Or strolling through a

Museim

I think I’ve been to before in a city like

Richmund

That I am quite certain I've never been to

Or maybe It will feel just like it does now

As if I am standing on the 54^th parallel and

Trying to get over the fact

That it is all

Corea

This day

Can I move my new drum set up to my room
This day
Can I shovel the driveway
This day
Will we have candy
This day
This day
Will I be going to school
Did we have cupcakes
This day
This day
Will we see Grandma and Granddaddy
This day
This moment
This second
Right now
This day

Sometimes, Wet Is Just Wet

Parking cars in the cold rain
To earn volunteer hours at your daughter's private school
Feels a lot like
Parking cars in the cold rain
To earn volunteer hours at your daughter's private school
Coming home to a warm shower and a cup of hot chocolate
Lovingly prepared by your wife
Feels a lot like
Coming home to a warm shower and a cup of hot chocolate
Lovingly prepared by your wife
Sometimes I see the metaphors, similes, and analogies so clearly
That I can feel the spray in my face as
I cut across a perfect blue sea and
In front of a perfect blue sky
On my way around the world
On a forty foot sloop and
My muscles tense up at
The sound of pterodactyl screeches
But tonight
I felt cold rain
Pushed cars out of the mud and
Smiled as
I sipped out of my handmade earthenware mug of hot cocoa
Sometimes
Wet
Is
Just
Wet

The Seasons of Nelson Mandela

dying in winter
in prison throughout summer
sprang and fell ahead

limits

now I’m wearing socks

from sun up until sundown

but never at night

Nothing But Numbers

Twenty nine

Thirty two

Zero

One

Two

Zero

Three

One

Four

Two

Five

Three

Six

Four

Seven

Five

Thirty Six

Forty

Thirty Seven

Birthdays Dancing Through My Fingers

The cupcakes form a five
No two adjacent cupcakes burdened
With one of five candles lit
Illuminating the face of the
Five year old
Who was clearly the
Three year old
That sat in that same spot
Two years ago and
May have been
The one year old who
In that very same spot
Tried to catch hold of the flame
From his one candle and
May have earned that
No matter how many or
How few
Cakes and
Candles
You have
You can't grab hold and
Never let go

Five Years Later

Five years ago
About this time
I settled in
To mostly sleep through what was to be
My very last night
As the parent of one child
Thinking that I knew fully what was coming
Just not when
Which
Except for irritation at having garbage bags under the sheets and
A body pillow jammed into my back
Could explain my mindset
Right at this
Moment
Five years later

Blame the Moon

Inflatables on the shelves at Lowes

Before Halloween

Christmas Carols on the radio

Before November is over

Hanukkah nearly half over

Before school returns to full swing after Thanksgiving

The holidays are turning into

A cheap and

Barely sanitary

All you can eat buffet

Where you come just before eleven and

Stay till close
If I get indigestion

I guess I should blame the moon