down below

up on the hill where an old man died
the rains were falling
and some people cried
while in the town
far down below
just shopping around
with nowhere to go
an empty bag with yesterdays' keys
and a street walking girl
chasing her memories
romance novel in hand
telling her what she can't quite understand
she's looking for the moon but finding only pain
asking for a second chance before walking back again
her river was tired of being wet
the sun unsure
if it should set
and in the calm while lovers stolled
i saw her heat escape the cold
lose the grip it tried to hold
up on the hill where an old man died
the rains were falling
and some people cried
and in the town
far down below
just shopping around
with nowhere to go

castles in the air

castles in the air
i could not find you there
wistful and resting without care
tired and without my heavy jacket or a shirt
i went to rid myself of hurt
and that good sensation lasted much too long
i almost felt i had done something wrong
but with every easy breath i took i glowed
when i remembered all the good love you showed
no bad thoughts no dueling sword
no sense of exclusion or discord
simply sweet reflection inside a cloud of bliss
it's you after all that i mainly miss
castles in the air
i could not find you there
wistful and resting without care
from my leather chair i leaned on the window sill
i saw you on the distant hill
and you were beautiful with flowers on your bed
i almost felt i knew what should be said
but with every easy breath i took i glowed
when i remembered all the good love you showed
no bad thoughts no dueling sword
no sense of exclusion or discord
simply sweet reflection inside a cloud of bliss
it's you after all that i mainly miss
castles in the air
i could not find you there

falling bombs

falling bombs look like shooting stars
passing in the night like speeding cars

and a siren wails like an frightened child
abandoned where all the garbage is piled

and the running boot with an anxious sound
without a soul just keeps dancing around

and the shadow in its' graveyard crying
the demon speaking but plainly lying

and on your head the weight of night
unmoving 'til the morning light

and the spinning cymbal smoking blurs
blinding what was his and hers

the open eye and the wizard gone
down an avenue at dawn

falling bombs look like flaming spears
scary in the night like childhood fears

175,000 vertical feet

There is a new tracking system available which lets a skier know how much vertical feet of skiing was accumulated, through the deep pockets of the Vail Resort system.

I've just finished 6 consecutive days at Breckenridge, Colorado. One day there was a 26 inch snowfall, followed by an 8 incher, a 7 incher, and a 10 incher.

I skied that powder in evergreen trees on the Windows trail, narrow and yet beautiful. I skied that powder on the steep bumps of Devil's Crotch, off Peak 9. I skied that powder from the Imperial Chair on Peak 8, at 12,900 feet, dropping into Whale's Tail and the Y Chutes, and continuing to the base of Peak 7. And I skied that powder on freshly groomed intermediate trails for the sheer exhilaration of the intense speed and carving finesse possible.

The snow was incredible, being light and forgiving and like a temptress, delicious and encouraging.

I heard unrestrained hoots and yippees and other shouts of delight from passing skiers, although I could not see their faces.

I used a snow blower to clear the driveway, several times in the morning and at night.

Also, I ate well, not just because I'm a good cook. And I always found myself in bed by 9pm, fatigued but excited to give my best on the slopes the next day.

Now, in my home on the east coast, I think of leaving for my next adventure. Care to join me?

a dragon tattoo

a dragon tattoo

painted the landscape blue

under an Eisenhower cloud
the radio turned up loud

in a 1950's style of vanishing ink

the clean porcelain kitchen sink

with a dirty Beatnik puddle
guilty little children inside their huddle

and their wooden desk

the Dick and Jane reading test

then Kremlin eye in black and white
with Mr. Spy inside his fight

an electric cool aid jazz guitar

but Sigmund Freud knows who you are:

the preformed bra with lipstick marks
and in the sky the meadowlarks

the railroad yard can feel the cold
in winter when your bones grow old

remembered secret thoughts unfold
but no one near can truth be told

and at the pool skin undercover
Buffalo Bob and Ozzie each dreaming of a lover

with her apron smile on the bedroom floor
trapped into doing most any chore

in TV land where they advertise
and sparkle all your dreams with lies

the railroad yard can feel the cold
in winter when your bones grow old

Gabrielle Giffords, Congresswoman

Inside the hand-built well there is a darkness
and a hollow noise can be heard when I tap
the near wall with my open palm, hello hello hello
muted and rebounding in fading spirals until I stop.

I haven't spoken with my riding buddy for several weeks
and since the outside weather is darn cold, it will probably
be several months until we begin riding routinely together.

The last time we rode, she got mad. Her temper is strong,
as strong as her physical body, maybe even stronger. Unfortunately,
she was angry at me. Oh yes, I found the temerity to chastise
her decision to ride across the street just as she was about to
crest a steep hillside, and I saw the truck speeding over the hill
and swerve abruptly to avoid the most-likely fatal collision.
So, when I pulled alongside her after that scary moment, I spoke
my true feelings about how that wasn't the smartest thing to do and
offered suggestions, like simply stopping and walking her bike when
she felt too tired to pedal further up the hill.

Yes, she flashed her heat, telling me her move was a calculated risk.

Fine, I said, but don't do it on my watch, baby.

There is a madness afoot.

There was a cold-blooded murderer standing in a Tucson
supermarket line, holding his Glock pistol with
an extended clip full of heartless bullets.

There is chaos.

America is in jeopardy of becoming a Pakistan, where
to speak one's mind freely about all subjects is to invite
those who profess an opposing view to kill, to embark on a spree of
violence and scare the liberal populace.

A young girl was shot and died. She was 9 years old
and loved ballet. She played second base on her little
league baseball team. I saw a picture of her face and
saw her nice smile, like a contented Mona Lisa, but now gone,
only memories remain. This is wrong, her death.

A sitting member of Congress was targeted for assassination.
She is in grave condition in a hospital with a gunshot wound
to her head. Her friends call her Gabby. If she survives this attack,
her recovery will take months or years. Pray for her.

In America, I fear there will be retribution. But, we can't have a country
where people of a certain persuasion demand
"No Retreat, Reload." Is this a sensible political slogan?

Now, will the Arizona incident become a special moment
in the history of the United States of America? Will the
rabid crusaders of the Right begin to temper their
vitriol? Will we come together for the benefit of our
mutual futures in a sane and responsible manner?

There is a madness afoot. Surely we can cure it?

on the floor

i didn't see you walking down the street
but i was looking for someone new to meet
so it wasn't such a big surprise
when i tried to look you in the eyes
and there was traffic
and the conductor was yelling out his door
watching all the busy people
sitting on the floor

i only saw a little slice of you
but it was too much and turned me blue
when i held your heart above my head
and wondered why my face turned red
and there was traffic
i was lost and couldn't find an open door
watching all the busy people
sitting on the floor

i didn't have a story or a book
but you seemed so fine i had to look
when i felt the heat between your lines
and saw the beauty beneath the signs
and there was traffic
i was lost and couldn't find an open door
watching all the busy people
sitting on the floor

i didn't have a moment's time to lose
but you made it hard for me to choose
sitting in my seat without a sound
and suddenly no one was around
and there was traffic
and the conductor was yelling out his door
watching all the busy people
sitting on the floor