off-piste plunge (re:ski)

when i push away from a lonely lip of snow
in the high Rockies of Colorado
and the open space beneath my feet
drops like a savage tempo beat
the sensation of falling
is not appalling
but rather wild and sweet.
i totally surrender to the flow
of gravity and the word is GO GO
and the number is unlike any 9 to 5
because i'm perfectly alive
and confident
not sad and spent
but rather dance and dive.
an abandonment of all common sense
and rules of the human road, hence
the great rush of supreme delight
released like an escaping kite
only natural law
can affect my fall
but i stand upright.

young time

when i was young
neil armstrong was in training
to explore the surface of the moon
if it wasn't raining
a time when lennon was alive
because mark chapman hadn't flown
from that island in the pacific
to kill a man he hadn't known
yes it was fun to dance at Camelot
& imagine being a mouseketeer
singing with walt disney's voice
for all the kids to hear
when i was young
white keds were on my feet
and i couldn't have considered
the different people i would meet
a howdy doody played by his string
or soupy sales as manic as a clown
playing music to rock around the clock
as long as Elvis was around
my Doors weren't just for opening
& simply pot could make me high
while tinker bell in never land
was spreading faerie dust to fly
when i was young
men still cried i didn't hear
and worked two jobs routinely
with no pampering or fear
a time when i was totally naive
like now the hubris blinding
so that fly balls in the outfield
were the secrets i was finding
when i was young

Lynden Gallery on Market

so i went to an art opening
at the lynden gallery
in etown & many people came out
including Luke and Mallory
whom i hadn't seen in about
two years or so plus Lisa
the owner was there
with her beautiful raven dark hair.
Ned Wert was the artist on display
(i met his sister & her fiancee)
and his works are now largely abstract
hanging with red as the predominant shade
i was gasping at the numbers as fact
then noticed several full prices were paid
but it was simple since the mood was so good
to be friendly and feel that you should
in this fire hall converted to art
just mingle and fondle a heart
drink wine, eat crackers, and cheesy
to imagine that living is easy
here is original stuff as it should be
poking holes in the idea of normal
a space which is happy and free
relaxed and certainly not formal
so visit.

another day in Paradise

i watched a teenager play with her hair
using an index finger
during a film about anxiety
but it didn't linger,
moving to her neck just to scratch
a small batch
of pimples.
i watched her fidget then roll her butt
on the surface of the chair
but she acted oblivious
and didn't seem to care
about my adult impression
during our talk about depression
which ensued.
in fact everybody was ready to leave
as soon as the bell announced
& had most of their books in hand
as assignments were pronounced
but ignored them.

reading Hemingway

the campfire burned a bright flame on top of my hunger 

i hope everyone knows by now:

we're not getting any younger;

thus cold time sitting in the freezer calls my name! 

it sounds like geezer 

while the cod on the cape has lots of wealth & ladies stroll the beach for health 

but i can't go there with my head of hair 

and share 

that dream of paradise 

it's a lump of coal a chunk of ice 

an alley with an deep dead end 

and you're dumped there without a friend 

without a lively book, no color on your face 

that you didn't paint or trace 

but this appetite on my tongue isn't a hangover from when i was young 

the hard surface feels like a passion which persists beyond any passing fashion 

as sun brightens the fire and burns the wood 

it lingers in the bones and makes them feel so damn good 

running full face inhaling air swallowing embers and playing dare 

reading Hemingway reading Crane 

thinking youthful shit with an active brain 

dancing to a temptress's song 

and trampolining naked is never wrong.

resurrection

i rolled the dead body over
in the street so i could see his face
blue like the brilliant sky
and i wondered why

but time wouldn't wait for my thought
to coalesce around the fact
that this bicycle rider has died
and i should have cried

but pure instinct and good luck
carried my mouth to his
and the hard chest compression
made a very good impression

call 911 lady and do it now
i shouted as she gawked
at me pinching his nose
and tickling his toes

yes, the emt said, no pulse
and here's my zapper on his chest
lean back and watch the graph
hold your breath, don't laugh

okay, got something, let's go
as the police paved the way
and the ambulance raced for life
now i had to tell his wife.

well, damn, it can be said
i brought a buddy back from dead
it's official he now can state
i didn't look around or hesitate.

so today we rode together
easy as an Apache feather
it's been six months and a day
since his wife fell down to pray

tally BAN

the creepy psychopaths
who disdain baths
i mean where in the hell
can they go for the smell?
wearing the same stupid rag
on their heads like a tag
from department stores
they not only kill whores
they kill love
and presume to judge
without a nudge
from a human conscience.
just this once
i'd like to have the power
to erect a prison tower
and stuff all these assholes
onto long spiked poles.

take the 12th century
and shove it mullah.
of shit you are full a
& you're screwing our hope
you slimy dope
and i don't mean to be funny, honey.

little etown

once
and for all
we played little league ball
on a dirt field by the little creek
and little girls would peek
we rode our bikes at night
on the sidewalk, in the street
and people would speak
we watched the band marching
and could touch the clarinets
as good as it gets
we ran in the local creeks
splashing water and turning stones
finding helgamites and bones
rode the pole in a fire hall
watched the milkman call
danced in the square
had very short hair
knew peggy and sally
knew every alley
everybody knew you
and what you do
ice skated the pond
loved and were fond
swam in the quarry
never a worry
before color tv
just you and me
sneaking at night
halloween delight
cards and the table
ruth, alice, and mable
chocolate smells
back yard wells
small town living
generous giving
howdy neighbor
do me a favor?
name it.

Fame's fence

why are fences all so tall
as i flail my fingers to raw bone
trying to scale the wall
which time has cleverly grown

you are on the other side
wearing costumes proper and prim
all in an effort to hide
with a light kept purposefully dim

i should have noticed much more
since everything was colored in sight
but one eye saw the floor
while the other distracted by light

It seems never to be what i thought
so i apologize having been caught

i the fool who went rushing within
never knocking but wearing this grin

an old man who should have known better
still thinking i've got to go get her

our hearts are sewn on our sleeve
while our minds are clever and bright
and it's hard to know when to leave
but i'll acknowledge and wish you good night.

Lady Brett

it wasn't a stairway to heaven
she was buying with her smile
she was sitting in the cafe
and just reading for awhile.

it was early in the morning
and no drummer from her band
was drinking gin and tonics
near the hero worship stand.

the central square was busy
but no crowd would come today
no rider was approaching
to take her book away.

the bulls ran down an alley
blood dripping on the street
no pages hidden under cover
could find a safer place to meet.

she heard her name a thousand ways
before the lunch bell rang
and watched a group of laughing men
approach her as they sang.

the napkin fluttered as it fell
onto a cobbled stone
but when she bent to pick it up
she found herself alone.

her city was a hundred miles
across the mountain range
but she hoped to dream forever
and didn't find that strange.

the fire down in the valley
a hanging in the street
of a picture framed before it's time
would keep her in her seat.

another one bites the dust

check back with me in 1/2 an hour,
near the end of this April shower

or the passing of the big black hearse,
whichever comes first.

the funeral is for mrs. summers
and they're usually perfect bummers

at close to ninety years with balloons,
spent her childhood in cheap saloons

with men who were mainly strangers
wearing masks like fake lone rangers

and she swore like a drunken sailor,
married a poor man who was a tailor

but that husband died from screwing around,
no cure for the disease was ever found

yes, there were kids but hey tough shit,
it's what it is so get over it

she had beauty once but never more,
now we're wondering what was here before

with no morals and maybe less class
there's not much mourning that loss of ass

i counted one daughter sitting near,
seven others shedding not a tear.

Virgo

so Virgo the virgin lady
is an exercise
in my writing class
of smallish size,
mostly female
but two male,
i one.
yet, it's certainly fun
and we do creative writing
without backbiting,
which is the way to go
what with a writer's ego
that's an accomplishment.
and i've been sent
to do a story
on romance and glory.
it's rather good
and i knew it should
be, since it's closely
based on my mostly
accurate memory.

leisurely pace

I can be that hard-hammered steel blade
Or the soft spoken tavern maid;
Perhaps a literate school professor,
Or the naughty sin confessor.

But, I’d really like to be set free,
Then, all the time I can just be me.
And what a wild and wooly ride
To have you flying by my side
Where fairy tales are never told
And hearts are stout and men are bold.

I’d like to move with a sounding whale
And ride the sky on a raptor’s tail.
I’d like to swim where the water’s deep
And have you with me in my sleep.

I’d like to be an eighteen wheeler
Or a mean, green Pittsburg Steeler
Brushing softly on your face
And have you with me keeping pace.

I can be that point man shot
Or the cannon barrel burning hot;
Perhaps a lion in attacking force,
Or a warship on a mighty course.

But, I’d really like to be set free,
Then, all the time I can just be me.
And what a wild and wooly ride
To have you flying by my side
Where fairy tales are never told
And hearts are stout and women bold.

I’d like to travel to the moon
And balance on a silver spoon.
I’d like to cure mankind’s disease
And have you know I’m not a tease.

I’d like to be an OK corral
And have you love me anyhow
Brushing softly on your face
And have you with me keeping pace.

In the shadow

In the shadow of the moon
Where I felt you kiss my lips

I watched the rising of the Earth unfold
Beneath your fingertips

You are my journey into space
As I stand hopeful by this door

And feeling stardust filter through
I settle quiet on the floor

Try to find a single planet
Or a flower soft with dew

With a strength as captivating
Or a heart that beats as true

In the ocean of the night
Where the desert rides the sand

We flew on a trajectory
Down countless years to land

In the shadow of the sun
Where I felt you touch my soul

I watched the rising of the Earth unfold
And needed nowhere else to go

you're so soft

you're so soft and yet so far
and how i wonder who you are
as the restless night and the ghosts are gone
i search for you til the break of dawn

a passing whisper towards my ear
gives me notice that you've been near
and still i see you on a rise
and marvel at the gorgeous eyes

then smiling with a summer sun
you call for me, i try to run
and save this memory for my heart
to comfort me while we're apart

you're so soft and yet so far

the gate

i miss you like my hand
misses the heft of a really good sword

i miss you like my Lord

i miss you like a cavalry charge
vanquishing my enemies at large

hearts and trumpets screaming & proud
thunderous battle raging & loud

arrows & hell
life's new smell

i miss you with my clear bright eyes
then i die but still time flies

over and over again
while i miss you, my friend