Pop Song Wisdom

Baby you could swing by my room around ten

Cinderellas gone to New York City and 

I didn't know where to turn to

This is my homewtown and

I'm just sitting out here watching airoplanes take off and fly

Waste it if you want

It's the bond that we tie up and over and under and

I only want to be with you

how far this all goes

how far this goes

today

every day

is hard to see

hear

smell

touch

besides

tomorrow I'll be gone

I suppose I could come to jesus in prayer and he would take it all away and

bring the good news 

which is

It will all get taken away 

with or without Jesus

no matter 

how far it goes

the smell of freedom these days

when chestnuts are roasting on an open fire

how open does the fire

have to be

to be able to

breath life

into

the moment

and 

how open and 

free 

do i have to be

in ordet to breathe

the smell of chestnuts and 

celebration

into 

my lungs and

my life

the white emerges

sprinkles of the white
laced across oceans of green
garland foreshadow

Paper Context

When you need a tissue
Tears
Snot or
Something else
I don't suppose it matters
To the
Tissue

Presentation Matters

It's not the

Quantity or

Quality

Of your words that matter

It's just 

How

They are

Arranged

A Long Winter

Empty lives are not always like empty trees

Buds hidden under a dusting of snow

Even if they seem that way

Even if the snow does conceal leaves

Strewn about in every direction

Trees seldom stand alone and

Once a leaf falls

Who can say where it fell from

Who wants to admit that they know the difference

Between and empty tree and

The alternative

line of sight

when the pretty leaves

go, the view improves ... wonder

what your'e looking at

life seems long

the leaves fall off the
trees and grow back every
year, until they don't

Where to start?

America is a big house

A big dusty house 

Garbage overflowing in all the cans

The sink full of dishes

Spider webs in the corners

Streaks on the wonderful s

Clothing lying about

And you 

And me

Standing in the middle

Wondering where we should start

Pretending the roof isn't leaking and the foundation isn't cracked

all are welcomed me ... but Ebola scares me

it is cold out so

drink of his blood and pass the

cup but not to him

there's stupid and then there's ...

a broken sandal

a sore ankle makes less sense

in two feet of snow

what is in a month

roofs littered with leaves

on February thirty

first is scarier

thanks to us they'll last a million years

it's just a bit too

cold to roll down windows so

bugs are safe inside

still fall day

the orange leaves betray

a slight movement in the wind

the clouds hunker down

life is short

life  is nothing but

autumnal haiku, false hope

... fancy packaging

anything is possible

you'll never sleep well

If you think leaves might just

jump bAckup on trees

Private Parts

Apple core hidden in a napkin
Banana peel obscured behind my laptop computer
And a good thing too
If someone has just tapped into my laptop's built in camera to spy on me
They won't have any idea what I eat
When I'm using my computer
Naked

autumn, pooh, and you

when a leaf falls here

does one also fall 

in the hundred acre wood

wet color

the color of leaves 

through scattered beads of water

doesn't change at all

Never Letting Go

At age forty one
Nothing anymore is like standing in the back of a pickup truck
Hands in the air
As it passes out of a tunnel and onto a bridge
At night
The air clear
And punctured with a song that moves you
The very first time you hear it
And
Unfortunately
Outside of a movie script
The same is usually true of
Fifteen
Seventeen
Twenty one and
Thirty nine

Addicted

He never did heroine

Or dated one 

But

He told me he didn't need to

Because

At fifteen years old

Watching a movie with friends

She grabbed his hand underneath the pillow

Where no one could see

And held it

Fleeting

The second time I looked up

The face I saw in the clouds

Was still there

And

That was the moment I should have savored

Instead

Distracted by a fly passing in one open car window and out the other

I looked away

And

Now

I am staring at the clouds

Hoping for a face to emerge 

Somewhere in between 

The pistol and the mouse

Made in China

What isn't

What wasn't

Nothing

Everything

You can get for a dollar or

Two or

Three and 

Later 

A yen or 

Two  

Or

San

Breathe In Breathe Out

Bee flies in open

Window with the cool fall breeze

Go ahead ... exhale

The Fall

A perfect blue sky 

Hints of red and orange abound

Ebola is here

Where Did You Fall?

Raindrops only have delusions of grandeur

After they fall from the sky

When they fall on

Streams 

Rivers 

Lakes

Oceans

Even puddles

The ones that fall onto concrete

Can't afford to be delusional

Two sides to a blade of grass

Joy is like grass

Cut it down

Rip it out

Cover it in concrete

If you must

But know

There will always be a little bit somewhere

If you change your mind

Separating

Apparently

General Sherman is still despised in some parts of the south

Meanwhile 

In the north people still appreciate his tank

Which makes me wonder

Why a man and a woman getting a divorce

Bother arguing with one another

Patriotic

I only love my mother

Because she is perfect

She looks just like she did when she was twenty

She never yells

She spells every word correctly when she writes and types

She has never burned rice

She has never been sick or sad

He hair never out of place

Her house always spotless

Her people free

Happy

Faithful

Industrious

Law abiding

Patriotic

Blinded by love

Rinse and Repeat

Wake

Dress 

Feed 

Maybe eat

Drop off

Grade papers

Paint walls

Wash clothes

Wash dishes

Clean

Pause

Pick up 

Homework

Play

Use the bathroom

Cook

Eat

Clean

Put to bed

Teach some more

Write a poem

Go to sleep

Sleep

Rinse

Repeat

Interpreting our low ranking in infant mortality

Beets can make your urine red

So

Before you panic and

Drink a lot of water on your way out the door

To wait in your car in line 

To pick up your son from school

For fifty minutes

Think about what you had for dinner

You may have had 

Pasta

Brussel Sprouts and 

Fresh bread

seasons

the older I get
the less I feel like a bottle of wine
any bottle of wine
and the more I look like a leaf
any leaf
that is more than a few days removed from the tree
and the outside
sitting on the kitchen counter
still colorful
but ...
waiting

warm fall day

sweat and sunburn framed

by yellow, orange and green leaves

in the waning light

Moment

When you yell at her for forgetting her homework
You hope that the moment is just a moment
Set aside
Contained
When  she says you are the best daddy ever
You
Want
It
To
Contaminate
Every
Part
Of
Your
Life
Forward
And
Backward
Of
The
Moment
Itself

then and NOW

She is but a link in the chain

When 

Standing under the basketball hoop

Ball in hand

She turns back towards me and says

I could dribble better

If this

Dress 

Wasn't in my way

Packing

As I look across the living room to the dining room and

See the empty boxes  and
The would be contents
I feel like a photographer for National Geographic

Standing on the prairie in Yellowstone

In August

Watching the male Bison posture and bellow
As the females look on

All of them
Contestants in a much too familiar rite

My Guinea Pig

If you’ve heard the one about the tree in the woods

You’ll understand that I have to be off

It’s hard to know for sure when your patient is sick

If you aren’t there to listen to the cough

It’s almost time for dinner now

And carrots, parsley and grapes
They will not ever chop themselves

And jump up onto the plate

My little friend, he eats and he sleeps

He squeaks and he eats quite frequently

And between the three it’s safe to say

Eating is his speciality

When I appear at the top of the stairs

The gymnastics and theatrics begin

If it wasn’t for all of his eating

He’d really be very very very very very  thin

He jumps, he chews, he squeals with rage

Gripping the bars of his rectangular cage

Being small must not seem so fair

Especially not when he’s trapped inside there

Does he save this show just for me

Or does the cat stop by

And politely offer to serve

A homemade carrot pie

All that I know for certain

Is that when I put his bowl next to his hay

He empties it completely

That is all he ever really has to say

So I’ll be going now

See you later this week

I have a tree at home

That is about to squeak

By: Seren Alexia Angus

the second nice day of the season

a watermelon,

corn on the cob, a dirty

striped picnic blanket

Cat Naps

I know that Carpe Diem is American
Hell it's even the name of a blog on the American Enterprise Institute's website but
I've been on a see saw recently
With a five year old and
I experienced the knee pain and
Calf strain and
Right at this moment
At barely six thirty in the morning
Nothing hurts but
I am uneasy because
A cat is sitting silently next to my chair
Not wailing or
Chewing plastic bags
As he has been known to do but
Simply staring off into the distance
Waiting
Waiting
Not like a leopard in a tree watching a troop of monkeys forage for fruit but
Waiting
Like a businessman standing in front of the doors of a subway train
If subway train doors had to be approached like antelope and
Businessmen had the patience of cats
Waiting
With the knowledge that
Sometimes
Days are
Like
Antelope and
Subway train doors and
Five year olds on see saws and
That's why cat's pounce and
Nap

second grade in may

little desks huddled
together like emperor
penguins with no eggs

Antique Plates

Check for rust
Look for wear and tear
Everywhere
Listen to the engine
Ask about mileage
Get up and go
Reliability and
Whatever else you want
Ask away
The answers don't matter anymore
Because
I've long been eligible for a
Antique plates

First World Problems

Land mine
Sand mine
The difference is just an L
Yet
While one sends you off to council meetings
The other sends you straight to hell

Impatience

The warm sun, the blue

Sky, the white clouds, the light breeze

The next station is

New Jersey Transit and wishful thinking

Stopped in the station

Rocks bathed in the warm sunlight

No litter in sight

Gardener on Sabbatical

I am clothed in short sleeves and blue skies and

Stillness

Hands folded in my lap

As everything rushes by outside my window

Buildings

Cars

Trees 

Graffiti and

Presumably 

Weeds

Although

At this speed

Mood and

Level of detachment

I can't or

Won't

Be 

Sure

there's always an after

sand in the bath tub
aloe spread thickly on arms
seasonal fallout

Of Fenton, the Pharaohs, and the letter K

In the mid 1970s
Fenton, Michigan leveled its historic downtown
A building or two
Survived
Like a photo of a tall skinny girl
Standing on the beach in the shape of the letter K
Smiling
Buried in a box of old slides and baseball cards
Now
They have some great strip malls
But even if they had built another small town movie theater
On top of the old one
There would still be that earlier building
On the edge of town
Poking its facade up to the top of an old shoe box and
Probably
Even
An old wall in the basement
Waiting
Like the earlier tomb waits
Under the more recent one
Waiting
To be rediscovered
Remembered
At least until
We need to buy some bottled water or
Watch a movie

Hell Yes

Your life
Is a three and a half minute song
...
Be sure you
Scream and
Flail
Through the
Chorus
Each and
Every
Time

Making Yourself Invisible

You have superpowers

For real

Because

You can drive by a

Deer

Squirrel

Skunk

Even a

Cat

Lying on the side of the road

In any and 

Every 

State of disrepair

With little more than a twinge of regret

That the roadside isn't all daisies and long grass

Iron your cape and put it on

Because

You can transform 

Even a cat or a dog

Into 

A ten year old ford taurus

Without 

Looking into the vanity mirror and

Seeing a 1973 levis edition amc gremlin

all mammals named sam are clammy

Sonic dissonance
Sweeps over me
Like a wave
In a bathtub
Rubber ducky
Shooting over my head
As visions of my feet fly up in the air and
I want to grab for them
But the sound is all around
Me
And I can't move
Trapped in a cacophony cocoon
Until
Three minutes an thirty two second pass
And the drain plug is pulled and
All of it and
All of me
Goes swirling down the drain
Into
Sonic consonance

Connect Four

Connect
Four
With
Seven
Almost
Eight
After
First win
And
Latest loss
Eyes meet
Connect

The Tyrannies, Proclamations, and Investigations of a Grumpy Five Year Old

I'm not going to school
I will not play the piano
You can't take me on walks
Ever again
No long car rides
No family pictures
No board games
No naps
Not anymore and
I'll never eat chicken or
Fish and
Once I'm fifteen
No more snacks

Art Appreciation

Today
Standing on the porch
Kleenex in hand
Staring out at blue skies
Fluffy clouds
Increasingly green grass
Flowers of every color and
Short sleeved  shirts
I feel like a blind man
Who has just inherited a Picasso
Tomorrow
Staring out at the rain
From the kitchen window
Box of kleenex on the counter
It will be Picasso
Circa 1903
That I won't be able to appreciate

Quote

Before you react to a few words
It is helpful
To think of yourself and
The rest of us
As termites and
The sum of your words
Our words
As the mound and
To remember that
Termite mounds are spectacular
Even though they are equal bits
Earth and
Shit

a different snow is falling

the wind still has bite
but it also spreads yellow
blue, pink, purple, white

Freedom

Freedom is an empty room
Windows open
White walls
Adorned only by the shadows cast by
The sheer curtains
Fluttering in the breeze
Wide plank pine floors
Painted with shadows and
Light and
All of it
Always
Waiting
Yearning
To be less perfect
Less empty
Less
Free

Wish You Were Here

Remember postcards

Having a great time

Wish you were here

And such

Well now

Now

With text and

Twitter and

Facebook

You're basically in the room and

I suppose

Regardless of how much I wish and

Which star I wish upon

That's about all

I can guarantee

Elephants For Grandma

Stampeding

Through a formerly quiet glade

Trumpeting on the way in and

On the way out

Breaking branches

Breaking trees

Stepping on toes and

Talons and

Hooves

Trampleling down

Everything and 

Anything and

Vanishing

With smiles all around

Realtor

The mums I planted last year
On the advice of the Realtor we had yet to hire
Are poking up through the mulch
That I melted snow in order to lay in February
To help our new Realtor
Sell our house and
While I am not sure about the decision to capitalize Realtor
I am sure
As I sit here typing
In the same office I was typing in at this tome last year
That I have no interest
In seeing the mums bloom again this fall
Regardless of who our
realtor
Is

I'm Here

Parenthood is about 

Prescience and 

Presents

The most 

Precious of which is

Presence

Seasonal Impatience

flowers everywhere
green grass and buds on the trees
where's eighty degrees

Nothingness

Emptiness I know
I've been in the house
When the monitors aren't just silent
They're off and
I can hear the wind and
The hum of the computer and
My own elbow knocking against the table
I've lain in bed questioning
Every relationship
Every opportunity
Every decision
Every question
I've run through an abandoned military base
Barracks
Commissaries
Air strips
All empty but
All still there
Even if only in memory
I've never
However
Been nowhere
But
I will
Know nothingness too and
That scares me most of all

Hello Jo-Jo Kitty

Hello Jo–Jo Kitty

Are you asleep?

You look so comfy cozy

Your head buried between your paws

What are you dreaming about?

Me?

Catnip mice?

Flying feathers?

A door left open a second too long?

Or maybe

These days

A few seconds too long?

Your favorite food?

The wet kind?

Tuna?

A plastic bag?

You do love to chew plastic

Don’t you?

Don’t you?

Sorry

I didn’t mean to say that out loud

But now that your eyes are open

I know what else you like

Let me pet you under your neck

You can just sit and purr

And close those eyes again

Just settle all that matted fur back into the chair

And relax

Little hands and little old heads

We’e a good combination

Aren’t we?

Aren’t we Jo-Jo Kitty?

By: Wyeth and Daddy

A Shortened Perspective

Childhood is rhyme
Parenthood is prose
Although
The system can be shaken up
From time to time
I suppose

Slow Down and Ketchup

To you
The slower life might have some pop
But for me
Unfortunately
It's slow down and
Ketchup

Selective Vision

yellow. green, blue, white
you don't remember when it's
grey, windy, and wet

Snot

When a person picks his nose and
Flicks the piece of snot off of his finger with his thumb
It disappears only from his vision and
His mind but
Not from the world
For whatever it's worth
The same is true of
Me and
You

Transitions

The sun now brings warmth
Nap time now brings
One song after another
Down through the monitor
To me
Who needs a radio
Anyway

Transformation and Disguise

Forget the cover
I'm not even a book
Not always
Today
In the park
I was and
I was as advertised
You only had to ask my son to know
It was warm and bright
Jackets were unnecessary
Flowers were poking through the dirt
Fisherman were knee deep in the water
Dogs and
Horses and
People were out in droves and
There was no need at all to whine
Not today
Not with so much to talk about
Hand in hand
Skipping
Sitting
Strolling
Side by side
Like the trash cans
Two nights ago
Out on the curb were I had placed them
Where I was standing
Under a star filled sky
Transformed
In an instant
From short story or epic poem
Now
Back
Mid sentence
Interested in
What
Has already been written
Light years away and
What
Might come next
After me

Of waffles and pancakes and where they all end up

I doubt they will remember individual pancakes
Last week was applesauce
We've had
Blueberry funfetti
Lemon poppy-seed
Lemon-ricotta
Carrot cake
Cinnamon bun
Oatmeal cookie
Spiced buttermilk banana
Maple walnut and flaxseed
Banana, raisin, and oatmeal
Johnny cakes
Peanut butter
Parsnip
Eggnog
Cinnamon-peach cottage cheese
Gingerbread
Old fashioned potato
Sweet potato
And even
Golden
And
There will be more to come
Even though
All they will remember is
That we ate pancakes
Almost every week
I suppose that's why
Sometimes
When I really think about it
I almost understand the folks who spend their money and time trying to stop other people from getting married
But not today
Today
I made
Gluten free coconut
Waffles

an auspicious start to the season

a curtain of haze
inside a curtain of rain
one drop at a time

Perfect Imperfection

For me

You are a perfect early summer day

Sky the steel blue of a morpho butterfly wing

Clouds so puffy they might have been stolen from the edge of a mirror in one of those ceramic Christmas village displays

The wind whispering just loud enough

The sun still only investigating around the edges 

The flowers knowing no trepidation or shyness or discrimination

At all and

All of it

Moving

Flowing

Touching

You aren't a postcard 

Or even a BBC documentary narrated by David Attenborough

You are the real thing

With

Ants

Ticks

Dirt 

Disease and 

Birds and

Deforestation

All there

Under that blue sky and

Those white clouds

Just like 

Me

The Response Is In The Context

Rain in the forecast
As I dust snow off of buds
A smile on my face

Extant Responsibility

The time to strip naked and run through the forest
Chasing imaginary deer and
Irish elk
Is
When you see more than
Ruminants
Extinct or extant
More than plants with elongated stems or trunks supporting photosynthetic leaves or branches at some distance above the ground
My advice would be to act quickly
Before
You are trapped by
Ticks
Houses peppered with windows
Sexual predators and
Insurance Co-pays and
Unfortunately
Before you can drive yourself to the woods

exhaustion knows no season

The last snow has come
And gone ... rain is here to stay
I am still tired

Which are you?

Philadelphia
Chicago
Detroit
New York
London
San Francisco
Oakland
Ann Arbor
Madison
Tired
Busy
Foreign
Adorable
Religious
Gay
Which are which and
Which are you

Bus Ride

It is unseasonably cold outside
So i suppose I should be happy to be
Head counted and
On the yellow bus
Lunch bag next to me on the seat
The world bouncing by outside my window
But
I can't help wondering whether
It would be any easier now
To pull the arrows together
Drop the window and
Stick my head out

Sweet Dreams

Head on my shoulder
Hand on my chest
She's asleep
Me
I'm in a dream

Waking Up To Love

To love a blank canvas
Is
To love an ideal
To love a canvas
That has been robbed of possibility and promise
By your own brush strokes
Is
To love that look
You get in the morning
Over top of a steaming cup of coffee and
An egg trapped between two sides of an English muffin from
Someone
Who has already heard your dreams and
Your excuses

The Tenaciousness of Spring

plastic gloves, two pairs

and gardening gloves, one pair

dirt still under nails

Getting Over Auntie Em

Ribbon cuttings are great
When they are playing out in your mind's eye
Sweat on brow
Nails in mouth
Hammer in hand
Done with your turn
As Auntie Em
Way way off Broadway
Now starring
At the Globe
As the Wife of Bath
In the performance that will earn you a turn
On the silver screen
As the queen
Any queen
Sword in hand
Ready to
Cut that ribbon
Yearning
To be forced
To start all over again

Growing Backwards

Growing
Backwards
Into
The
Ground
It's what it feels like I might be fated to do
If I was a flower
A Daisy
Immune to drought and pest and errant boot
Yet
Dazzlingly unable
To understand
The age old cues
Trickling down to it
From time immemorial

I hate it when dogs try to predict the weather

There is a script for growing flowers and

It works

Rain or shine
Most of the time

As long as you and

The flower and

The soil and

The bugs and 

The kids and

The neighborhood dogs

All know your roles and

As long as one of those neighborhood dogs

Doesn't decide that it feels like a drought is in the air and

It might as well tear around in the garden bed

In a mad bit of 

Hardwired

Improvisation

questions in late winter

now it is too cold
later it will be too warm
when is it just right

sNOw

Too much of anything is
Too much
Try playing Ella Fitzgerald during every waking hour for a week and
You'll be begging for something
Anything
Else
Miles Davis
Buddy Guy
Debbie Gibson
Anything
Which is
Why
Right now
I'd take ninety degrees with
Ninety percent humidity
Or even
A good cold rain

I'll Give You My Huddled Masses

Choices
Are like
The huddled masses
They are impossible to avoid
Good to have around and
Frequently romanticized
But
Truth be told
Easier
When someone else takes them

Optimism

cold winds can come and
go along with ice and snow
Spring will still come though

Of Spring, Last Gasps, and Inevitability

The old storm windows
Rattled all night in the cold wind
Driving us out and
Onto the futon in the study
I'm not sure where Spring was driven to
But tonight we are back in our bed and
Those original sliders are
Silently frosted over and
I am attempted to write in the frost
A reminder
To the winter wind
On this the eighteenth day of March
That we won the Battle of the Bulge

My Stuffed Turtle

He's green
He's white
He's got stuffing inside
He's fuzzy and furry and
Warm through the night
His shell is not hard
His legs don't pull in
So he really knows
The places we've been
For he's seen them himself
First with two beady eyes
Then when love picked one off
Just one did suffice
To soak it all up
As he's carried around
Fraying foot pads
Dangling two feet from the ground
In the car
In the wagon
Perched on my bike
In the library
At the beach
On a long hike
Out in the yard
Down by Grandma's pool
At the museum
Even learning at school
He's white and
He's green and
Whenever I'm seen
It's a good bet
One unlikely to fail
That sticking out from under my arm
You will always spy a little green tail

By Wyeth and Dad

of Swords and Plowshares

I wonder
If my son
Was trying to turns swords into plowshares
When he chucked his Nerf sword out of his second story window and
Into the backyard
Where I was taking down a small tree
One branch at a time
You might think he was simply trying to transform his nap into
Something more exciting
After all
He later proclaimed it his
"Most exciting nap ever" but
I was doing more than turning up the soil
When I used my shovel and my mattock
To probe the dirt right around the stump
Before turning in for the night
Which is why
Tomorrow during nap
I'll be on guard for "excitement" and
Transformational change

Drawing a Blank

A special note
That's what is printed at the top
Blank lines laying heavily underneath
Waiting
Expectantly
For you to give birth to something ...
Special
To fill them
To release them
To complete them
Which is why
Sitting
In the middle of my desk
Right now
In the very position it has always been
Like a bristlecone pine
In the middle of a Christmas tree farm
Is
A Special note

March 10th

returning with loot
leaving shoes in the garage
we have sprung ahead

Midnight Feeding

Midnight feeding
For the cat and
Me
The cat has chicken and liver
I have toast and butter
In the office
In front of my computer
Where I contemplate an empty computer screen and
Lick crumbs off my fingers
Some crumbs
Seeming
Perhaps
More filling
Meatier
Than others

Moving

For sale 

Walls

Windows

Doors

Floors

Ceilings 

Wood

Steel

Copper

PVC

Glass

Carpet

Lead 

Asbestos

Concrete

Asphalt

Trees

Shrubs

Flowers

Dirt

Wanted

Most of the above

Especially 

Dirt

first warm day in march

Snow melts in the sun
Coats, hats, and gloves disappear
Memories grow short

Do It Yourself Doublestuff

Take two sandwich cookies
Ease each one apart
Carefully coaxing the cream to stay only on one cookie
If either operation is unsuccessful
Consume the evidence of failure and
Begin again at the beginning
Make sure you have poured yourself a glass of milk
Cow, goat, soy, coconut, rice, or almond are all fine choices
But you will need something before you continue and
Continue you must
By selecting the cookies you have extracted from the cream and
Making them disappear
Next
Turn your attention to the cream lined cookies that remain
Hold one in each hand
Cream sides facing one another
Line them up and
Slowly close the distance between them
Mating the cream fillings
So that they seamlessly
If only briefly
Join as one
Set them
It
On the table and
Admire the perfection
The handcrafting
Then
While still in the moment
Deliberately
And
Without rushing
Bring an end to the cookies
And
Then the milk
And
Then
Finally
The moment

Heroism

Green
Round
Dimpled
Small
Numerous
Piled in a white porcelain  teacup with a blue accent line a quarter inch from the top
Steam still rising
As if there was tea inside
Ignored nonetheless
Intentionally
I place them closer and
Engage
In a long and rancorous debate
Joined from opposite sides of the yellow, white, green, and blue flowered tablecloth and
Ending in
The depositing of two of the dimpled green balls into the mouth
With jaw set
Eyes squinted
Grimace painted on
Not the stuff of ballads or
Twenty four hour emergency news coverage
Perhaps
But
If it looks like a pea and
Tastes like a pea
It must be a pea

Ensure

Was she yet sixty years old
When her 1998 Chevy Malibu came off the assembly line in Wilmington
Did she buy it new
Or did she buy it later
When she surely must have been over sixty
This is what I am thinking about now
Hours later
In the moment
I was all about the empty ensure bottle
The one she picked up off the ground
On her way into the grocery store
Apparently on the chance that it might be full
Flinging it down when she realized it was empty
As a homeless man might have dealt with a cigarette butt that proved to have too little tobacco left to be useful
I wonder what flavor she was hoping for
Mixed fruit
Vanilla
Classic tobacco
Silvermist metallic
If I was forced to drive a 1998 Chevy Malibu I would have gone with dark torreador metallic
If I was imprisoned in Guantanamo and on a hunger strike
I would have wanted to be force fed with butter pecan
If I was a bum
I'd hope for half smoked menthol
I say
At forty
From my office
With a 2002 medium blue metallic Park Avenue parked in the driveway
That I bought a few years after it rolled off the assembly line in Hamtramck
Chewing on the draw strings of my sweat shirt
My long straggly hair falling down into my eyes
An almost empty glass of soy milk next to me
Calling on me to extract the last few drops
Assuring me
That no one is up to see me lick the last few drops off of the side of the glass and
Hold that and
My car
Against me

The Least of These

The least of these

Hidden in the shadows

Awaiting death

Fearing life

In the land of just and right now

Regaled by words

Promises

Threats

Fears

and

Love of self

Rights

Us

No sir

Not the necessities of life

Not in our interest

Not in our homes

Not in our freedom

Not in our kingdom’s inheritance

Not now

Death will deliver thee

For He is better

We are selfish sinners

All of us created equally in that way

I will take what is mine

Leaving the least of it for

The least of these

The least of us

Five Year Old Strategy

Ask a question

Even the most absurd question

Because who knows

You might get lucky

Or at least

When you ask a second question

And it isn’t

May I have a riding lawn mower or

Will you buy me

A five year old boy with one inch long hair

My own curling iron

If

You threw a big enough fit when the answer to the first question was no

You are still whimpering and gasping for breath and

You suddenly remember how to be exceedingly polite

You won’t be relying so much on luck

In, Out, And Around The Repeating Days

Blue
Berries
Yellow
Banana
Orange
Orange
Juice
Drink it up
Drink it down
With
Pancakes
Eggs
Bacon
Of the turkey
From the turkey
Tomato or potato
With burger
Veggie or beef or chicken
With
Cheese
Cheddar or Mozzarella or Vegan or
White
Chocolate
Brown
Chocolate
With
Nuts
Water
Clear
Water
Into
Wine
Drink it up
Put it down
Cook it up
With
Oil
Peanut or Canola or Sesame or Olive
In goes
Garlic
Onion
Purple
Chinese eggplant
Green
Zucchini
Asparagus
Broccoli
Red
Pepper
Orange
Pepper
Green
Pepper
White
Rice
Soy sauce
Oyster sauce
Hoisin sauce
Ginger
With
Pancakes
Veggie
White and black
Cookies and cream
Water
Rinse
Repeat
Again
And
Again
And
Again
Again

Rights

It's my right
She says
He shouts
They all proclaim
Hundreds
Thousands
Millions
We are like a mass of blind archers in a large fallow field
Shooting freely
Confidently
Completely unimpeded by all that we can't see

Christmas In February/Christmas Is February

If
On Feburary 26th
Your Christmas gift
Which never worked and had to be returned
Is finally replaced
Does
February 26th
Become a Christmas gift
Too
?

This is Love

Indeed it is a walk on a beach at sunset
The warmth of the sand on your feet
The brilliant colors dancing across the horizon and
In your eyes and
In her eyes
A moment seemingly carried out of the ether on that shifting breeze that is blowing her hair around her face and yours
But
It is also seemingly
built on a tower of shifting sands
Flowers you had delivered on a Tuesday in August
Angry words
Hushed words
Tears
A bowl of ice cream too large to eat by yourself and
Two spoons
All in there
Stacked
Mixed
Piled
Jostled
Like
Rocks and
Shells and
Bones
Tossed and jostled about by wind and rain and rocks
Over time
Over centuries
Now under your bare feet
Squishing through your toes
At this moment
This magical moment in time
Watching the sun set behind the water
Not a moment's thought on past tears, meals, or gravitational collapses of sections of large molecular clouds millions of years ago

tis but a brief respite

its fifty seven
you are vomiting and snow
is in the forecast

fifty seven degrees is not always fifty seven degrees

six months earlier
I would have dressed in layers
Now I'm wearing shorts

Stuck Inside

I wish it was not
too cold for open windows
burrito dinner

Two Weeks Before Halloween And There Is Snow In The Middle Of February

Fog

Ice

Mist

Thunder

Pouring Rain

Rainbows

With snow still on the ground

It makes me feel like 

I am at a department store a few weeks before Halloween

Standing amidst stray strands of orange lights, one or two life sized talking ghouls,

A few scarecrows, rows of artificial trees, and inflatable Santas in more poses than seem possible and

SIlently cursing whoever thinks it is s good idea to still have Halloween merchandise on the floor

Two weeks before Halloween

Tea Cup

A tea cup
With a touch of residual soy milk at the bottom
No saucer
One spoon
One soggy generic brand honey nut cheerio
Sorry
Make that
Zero soggy generic brand honey not cheerios
and
Nary a drop of soy milk
and
Still no saucer
To go with
A spoon and
A tea cup

The Loosening Grip of Winter

The snow outside my window tonight is like American power and influence

I would think it was as good as ever

If I hadn't seen it two days ago and

If 

Earlier

Before darkness and temperatures fell 

Again

I hadn't seen it and heard it

Running away

With the rain

Off the roof

Across the driveway

Down the street

If I hadn't seen it and

Didn't remember it but

My memory won't be as clear tomorrow

When I awake in the morning and

Put on my boots and

Gloves and

Hat and

My winter jacket

Both layers and

I'm still shivering

Still under its spell

Still making allowances for it

Still grimacing and grousing under its power

Still convinced

At least until

I am back inside

Wearing a t-shirt and 

Looking at Friday's forecast

Wondering when

Like each of the less remarkable winters that have come before it

This one will disappear from even

My mornings and evenings

Wondering when it will loosen its grip

Carbonated Perspective

When

My seven year old daughter

Continues to stare at me

Mouth open

Eyes wide

Even after being reassured 

That I was not joking

When I said

There are still people 

Who were alive

When 

Water fountains and

Soda fountains

Were segregated

I choose to see 

Progress 

In her bewilderment

Rather than drinking fountains

Overflowing with Coke

Discordant Parenting

I come back up to huddling and
Conspiring
Heads nearly touching
Shadows mingling
Feet shuffling
Eyes darting
Then his
Focus on me
Again
But this time he says nothing
She never takes her eyes off of him and
Never stops talking
Mumbling really and
Gesturing
But I've seen the violins watch the conductor entreating the horns
To give him more
Watching
Bow in hand
Ready
So
I know
I'm supposed to be getting this too
My angry solo now over
My wrong notes
Mostly forgotten
I'm supposed to kneel down and
Get squeezed and
Enveloped
By the huddle
By the conspiracy
By the melody
Of their live

still screwed ... in

A light bulb burned out
And broken off in your hand
The rest still screwed in

Valentine

Friday the fourteenth

A number of years ago

In September

Friday the fourteenth was the day after my birthday

Thursday the thirteenth

Neither day unlucky

But both tinged with foreboding

One the sort that strikes you when you wake up on the day of a big test

And it looks much brighter

And much more like the middle of the day

Than it should

The other is the kind of foreboding folks experience in horror movies

When they hear themselves say something like

“Sure, I’ll go see why Rob hasn’t come back yet”

Today

I’m not even mildly suspicious of what is waiting for me in the next room

And I’ve never felt more than five minutes late all day long

Today

Had candy

Cookies

And homemade cards

But no presents to open

Or play with

Or contemplate

Today

It is Friday the fourteenth

Of February

Snow Ice Cream Recipe

Milk
Two cups
Any kind
Even soy

Sugar
One third cup
Plus a free lesson on fractions

Vanilla
One Teaspoon
And everyone gets a whiff

Salt
Just a pinch
"It tastes even better now"

Waffle cones
And

Surprise
Two tablespoons or so

Snow
Eight cups
Completely buried in a bowl set outside almost twelve hours earlier

Mix

Take pictures

Eat

Don't forget the kids
Two
If you have more
Double the other ingredients

She Is

She is

Blue tights

Blue turtleneck

Blue tartan patterned headband

Khaki jumper

Today

She'll be Jeans

White socks

Non collared

Non turtleneck

Non solid colored

Shirt

Hair tied back in a pony tail

Tomorrow

At the surface

It's a snow day sea change

Beneath the surface

The change is 

Les climatic and

More climactic

I am

Jeans

She is

Something else

Something less comfortable

Now

She is

Flowered footie pajamas

The Point of No Return Is Nearing ... Bless You

I wish

The point of no return

Came on

Like a cold

As you came within range

You’d start to sniffle

Then

As it came into sight

You’re head would start to hurt

Just a little and

As you moved within shouting range

The snot would start to flow

Just a little more

Out your nose

Back down your throat

And then that feeling

The sick feeling

Would descend over you like a cloak of darkness

Right as you arrived

And you would know you were there

It would be great for making meringues and

Deciding whether or not to take a job

And right about know

I’d be wondering

Whether Sudafed

Might give me a few extra days and

Whether

A cold would be easier to handle

If you didn’t know you had it

After all

There is no cure

and it was all yellow

Red cabbage juice revealed all

Pink and it was an acid

Blue and it was a base

Vinegar was an acid

Old red wine was an acid

Baking powder was a base

Toothpaste was a base

Milk was neutral

Whether it should have been or not

Turmeric

However

Was yellow

Humans must be mostly water and

Just a little

Turmeric

life is short and so are green beans

This poem is short

Because

So is life and

Today             

Twenty minutes of mine was

Devoted to

Convincing a seven year old

To eat                      

Half a green bean

Testing The Limits

If

Testing the limits

Is an admirable trait

In a fighter pilot

Flying a supersonic jet

What about

In a five year old

Trying to get

Both

A bowl of cheerios and

A bowl of popcorn

Before

Bed

Olympic History

ice, snow, pageantry
over top of history
a big stained glass door

Little House, Big Woods, Combustion engine

If I had grown up in the little house in the big woods

With Laura

Mary

Little baby Carrie

Ma

Pa

And their good old bulldog Jack

I would never have known the smell of burning gasoline

Heavy in the cold morning air

I would have known cold morning air

Even if I didn’t recognize it

As I waved goodbye to my grandparents

From the covered wagon

Probably forever

And headed

Pots banging

Dog barking

For the prairie

But I wouldn’t have known what I was talking about

Had I tried to explain to myself what it smells like

When you walk up and down your in-laws’ ice covered driveway

Between the house and your car

Which is running

Warming up

Loading dirty clothes,

Leftover vegetable pasta, and

Jalapeno yogurt dip

Into the trunk

So that you can return to your home

Which you have to hope

Has electricity flowing into it

Once again and

Probably

Luckily for me

If I had grown up

Churning butter

Gathering honey and

Dodging bear

In and around the little house in the big woods

I wouldn’t have cared

crying in color

Crayons are scattered about on the coffee table

One coloring sheet lies upside down on the floor

The evidence of angry scribbles rising above and through the otherwise white surface 

Another sheet lies face up 

Slight crumpling visible in the lower left corner

The fairies float above the yellow and blue flowers in a hazy gray sky

Purple wings

A pink hue reaching out from the bottom of the frock

But not yet transcendent 

Like me

Standing there

Reluctant to follow the noises into the next room

Wondering

If life is 

Ever again

Quite so colorful

Watching Them Change And Grow

One hundred pieces of pasta

Counted out

One at a time

Placed in a plastic bag

Sealed up

Zipped into the backpack

Are now waiting in the front hallway

Tomorrow they’ll head out to school

When they come back

They’ll be changed

I wonder

If I’ll notice

Anything beyond chips and breaks

I sincerely hope

That

Normally

I do

I wish I could blame winter

Four inches of snow

But I am stuck here without

Proof of causation

honest prognosticator

sixty on Sunday

four to six inches Monday

he saw his shadow

The Recipe For Success

What you achieve

At the moment of your birth

Is akin

To balancing an elephant on the head of a pin

What you achieve thereafter

Is dependent on

Acknowledging

Each and every morning

That no elephant will sit on the head of a pin forever

And

On

Eating a healthy and substantial breakfast

During which

You digest that knowledge along with your

Bran flakes

And

Let

It

Pass

Right

Through

Into

The

Toilet

Happy Birthday ...

I am content with these words

On this day

For you

Because

Writing

Painting

Sculpting

Aren’t supposed to be like studying for an exam
Or training for a road race

At least not a single road race

That has a finish line

Because

In two months

I might add a line to this poem

Or take one away
Or decide that I shouldn't have used contractions
And

Because

I have a feeling

That 
While turning seventy

Might feel like reaching a milestone in a road race
It's really 

A lot more like

Writing
And 
Rewriting 
A poem

The Space Between

Sitting in class

I used to draw lines in between the words in my text books and

Handouts

Starting at the top of the page

Going from left to right

Or right to left

I would draw lines

Down

Jogging in and out

To move between the words

Later

I would fall in love with the …

Ellipsis

A way to draw out the space

To use it

To be used by it

In prose

Poetry

E-mails

A way of letting the words breathe

Without letting them fall apart

Although there is a time and a place

To feel as if things are falling apart

In the back of that two tone Astro

Sitting in the driveway

Loaded up

With words

In a taxi in New York

Crying in your lap

Unable to find them

Alone

In a youth hostel

Fastidiously listing everything I wanted to do with you

One line after the other

No space at all

And so much

That I barely even tried to fill any of it

Barely tried to lay claim

I didn’t know any better

I didn’t know

That there is space and

There is space between

If the devil is in the details

God is in the connections

One

Word

Feeding

Off

Of

The

Next

One word feeding off of the next

So

Now

When I write poetry

I seldom break it up into separate verses

And I seldom cry

When I think of how far away you are

For I know

That you

Will always be the word right in front of me on the line held together by the space between

motherhood: that which, in any season, renders rational the irrational and familiar the strange

avocado pit

hanging by toothpick over

water filled egg cup

Footprints

Yellow siding

Spotted with the footprints

Left behind by ivy

Flower beds

Begonias

Geraniums

Concrete steps

Screen door

Usually broken

I may never actually take that walk again

But I

Obviously don’t have to

I would think

It could have been the same

For Pete Seeger

And

We shall overcome

He could have stopped performing it years ago

He knew that walk all too well

He could have inhabited only new songs

But he didn’t

If you watched him perform it over the last decade

You watched him gradually retreat from it

Cede it to fellow musicians  

To the audience

Imploring others to step in where his faltering voice was leaving off

He needed help up the driveway

Up the steps

But he never stopped going inside

I have

Because

A house isn’t a song

It can be neatly severed from what was

Is

Always waiting just inside the door

To the right

Past the basement stairs

Through the kitchen

Past

Formica

Checkered Wallpaper

Dark Lacquered cabinets

Greens

Browns

Yellows

In the three attached light-filled and professionally decorated

Squares

On eleven acres

And

Deep

In my heart

For
Your footprints

Are spotted across more than just the siding

And you aren't finished leaving them

My Mother’s Life: The Musical … You’ll Wish You’d Been Within Earshot

She’d write it

She’s written it

Diaries

Poems

Letters

Cards

Bulletins

Minutes

She’s written it all

And it’ll be great

Because it’s not always been easy

Trust me

I’ve lived within earshot

She’d choose the cast

Calling in and texting her vote as many times as it takes

Busy lines be damned

Trust me

I’ve been drafted into the election effort

I’ve been loitering within earshot

She’d direct it all

The crew

The actors

The orchestra

I can see her now

At rehearsal

Calling out missed sharps and flats

From the front row

The back row

Backstage

An office upstairs

The parking lot

Anywhere within earshot

Trust me

I’ve missed an F sharp within earshot

She’d sing lead vocals too

On every song

Whether she chose them or not

Whether she was in the cast or not

Whether she was supposed to or not

She’d sing them all

And she would sing them all

Choir style

Probably as an alto

Though she’d give the soprano line a try

It wouldn’t matter if it was

A hymn

An original country ballad or

A cover of Guns N/ Roses

Or Prince

Or Eminem

Trust me

I’ve been within earshot

She’d serve cake at the cast party

Telling everyone

As she handed them a plate with a piece of cake on it

How thankful she was

And how wonderful they’d been

And they’d believe it

Because she believed it

They’d believe it and

They would be that good next time

Even if they hadn’t been this time

Because she believed in them

I’d be cutting the cake and placing it on plates

And I’d believe it

Because

I was within earshot

Because I’ve been within earshot