picnic at pillow lake
four feet in the sun in the morning
where the evergreens shade the sand far from shore
we rest by Sentinel Fall
in the early summer
before the cottonwoods bloom
along the waterline
my hand extends for your kiss
the high forest watches the embrace
in an angle of full repose
we pause under the towers
of the north wall
the white day of noon
after the rain
heats our basket of fine fruits
and the dancing mists
cover your hair with jewels.
Cotopaxi, Ecuador (summer 2012)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
The Valley
Paradise Valley
the turquoise waters
rising temperatures and soft light
hard granite rock glittering in white
precious gold
meadow flowers unfold
in the early summer sun
frolicking frisky and fresh
Yosemite Fall
roaring echoing teasing it all
clouds of screaming blue spray
greening the eye
the eternal Ansel sky
a prolonged hush
whispering
quieting the rush
where lady bugs swarm
flying spinning sighing
red and yellow and wings
these are some of the many things
orange and purple and awe
it's not just what i saw
it's what i felt
the Zen masters teach
while eyeing the peach.
the turquoise waters
rising temperatures and soft light
hard granite rock glittering in white
precious gold
meadow flowers unfold
in the early summer sun
frolicking frisky and fresh
Yosemite Fall
roaring echoing teasing it all
clouds of screaming blue spray
greening the eye
the eternal Ansel sky
a prolonged hush
whispering
quieting the rush
where lady bugs swarm
flying spinning sighing
red and yellow and wings
these are some of the many things
orange and purple and awe
it's not just what i saw
it's what i felt
the Zen masters teach
while eyeing the peach.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
silly dog
deep into the windy spell of late autumn
the quiet reflection of an ambushing spider
climbs the bark of a silly dog
it falls on the still waters of a hand-dug well
a foot step nearby brushes the silence
in sweet soprano
i hear a cry
blushing softly the girl
with a blue tattoo
of a white tiger
on the prowl
walking over her left breast,
moves furtively.
the startled spider is trapped in the web
where a morning drop of dew
struggles.
the soft tattoo has no name
as the girl looks anxiously for the dog
who is now stalking the tiger.
silly dog.
the quiet reflection of an ambushing spider
climbs the bark of a silly dog
it falls on the still waters of a hand-dug well
a foot step nearby brushes the silence
in sweet soprano
i hear a cry
blushing softly the girl
with a blue tattoo
of a white tiger
on the prowl
walking over her left breast,
moves furtively.
the startled spider is trapped in the web
where a morning drop of dew
struggles.
the soft tattoo has no name
as the girl looks anxiously for the dog
who is now stalking the tiger.
silly dog.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
ENJOY THE REVOLUTION
the revolution came;
the revolution ended
and on a January morning
by an unkempt bed
a radio with its broken dial
hissed the resignation noise at seven.
Tahrir Square emptied in a languid hush.
after the celebration and the great storm
ordinary people went hauling the dead, the dying, and all that blood;
the discarded papers, the unofficial hopes, the ideals
sat waiting for a taxi on historic Cairo street corners.
nearby a tea vendor sipped his brew, wondering.
i too watched them, under tattered banners.
meanwhile, waiting for the cleanup crew
were men in army uniforms with sharp interests
and even sharper wit with tanks.
then, later in the cafe
near the green cellar door
by the red vinyl Coca Cola cover
curious faces were sketched in black and white
as fate would have it.
simple martyrs drawn on an old concrete wall
their rows of eyes in shaded light watching near my empty glass
which i held loosely in the curling smoke of
frequent customers who were
opening and closing new packs of lucky cigarettes
all black hair and boasts of brotherhood
exchanging glances and twitter posts.
their ash trays were empty
but the air was full of dreams.
soon, the military council would watch a new sun rise
where once the desert sun watched millions
of protesters from Egyptian cities and towns
who now rested on hard curbs and flat roofs
where Al Jazeera satellite could find them
underneath their ancient pyramid shadow,
still searching for honest work and a simple piece of bread.
tear-gas canisters rolled from view
leaving a scar on each forehead.
the revolution came,
the revolution ended
and it was crazy for a time
with women out at night, unafraid,
and young men in cars honking at the dawn.
the revolution ended
and on a January morning
by an unkempt bed
a radio with its broken dial
hissed the resignation noise at seven.
Tahrir Square emptied in a languid hush.
after the celebration and the great storm
ordinary people went hauling the dead, the dying, and all that blood;
the discarded papers, the unofficial hopes, the ideals
sat waiting for a taxi on historic Cairo street corners.
nearby a tea vendor sipped his brew, wondering.
i too watched them, under tattered banners.
meanwhile, waiting for the cleanup crew
were men in army uniforms with sharp interests
and even sharper wit with tanks.
then, later in the cafe
near the green cellar door
by the red vinyl Coca Cola cover
curious faces were sketched in black and white
as fate would have it.
simple martyrs drawn on an old concrete wall
their rows of eyes in shaded light watching near my empty glass
which i held loosely in the curling smoke of
frequent customers who were
opening and closing new packs of lucky cigarettes
all black hair and boasts of brotherhood
exchanging glances and twitter posts.
their ash trays were empty
but the air was full of dreams.
soon, the military council would watch a new sun rise
where once the desert sun watched millions
of protesters from Egyptian cities and towns
who now rested on hard curbs and flat roofs
where Al Jazeera satellite could find them
underneath their ancient pyramid shadow,
still searching for honest work and a simple piece of bread.
tear-gas canisters rolled from view
leaving a scar on each forehead.
the revolution came,
the revolution ended
and it was crazy for a time
with women out at night, unafraid,
and young men in cars honking at the dawn.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
spicy hot and mean
i didn't like the painting
maybe the proportions were wrong
something too big or too small
a woman too fat or tall
a canoe beached without a paddle
a girl riding without a saddle
it's hard to finger exactly why
the lines are low when they should be high
or perhaps the oils were smeared
anyway, it simply felt weird
i think my preconceptions
interfered
i wanted something from Sweden
what i saw was a sunset
with a gorgeous white egret
in the shallows of a calm tropic sea
the yellow bill, black legs and feet
were drawn well and neat
but the composition was too serene
i was in the mood for something spicy
exquisitely
hot and mean
maybe the proportions were wrong
something too big or too small
a woman too fat or tall
a canoe beached without a paddle
a girl riding without a saddle
it's hard to finger exactly why
the lines are low when they should be high
or perhaps the oils were smeared
anyway, it simply felt weird
i think my preconceptions
interfered
i wanted something from Sweden
what i saw was a sunset
with a gorgeous white egret
in the shallows of a calm tropic sea
the yellow bill, black legs and feet
were drawn well and neat
but the composition was too serene
i was in the mood for something spicy
exquisitely
hot and mean
Thursday, June 16, 2011
the critic
while the critic ate his worm
he liked it most in a cold steady rain
upon the hour of a last hot meal
or a warm and tender embrace
which he never seemed to try
his hair was always dry
as a crowd of athletic walkers
walked on by without a wave
as they were looking for the group park bench
underneath a heavy-leafed tree
maybe an old stately oak
to escape his depressing soak
Brahms first symphony in C minor
could be heard by their kitchen door
as the oatmeal raisin cookie smell
tickled vibrating strings and a fancy kettledrum
atop an open summer meadow air
there is never an endless ghetto there
for the maker of the fresh peach pie crust
the tuner of a Steinway piano and a treble clef
or a painter with her colors and her calico cat
or a clever strategist and a scribbled score
for the flute player fingering with a strong heart
each important note escaping at the whistled start
while the critic ate his worm
he liked it most in a cold steady rain
upon the hour of a last hot meal
or a warm and tender embrace
which he never seemed to try
his hair was always dry
as a crowd of athletic walkers
walked on by without a wave
as they were looking for the group park bench
underneath a heavy-leafed tree
maybe an old stately oak
to escape his depressing soak
Brahms first symphony in C minor
could be heard by their kitchen door
as the oatmeal raisin cookie smell
tickled vibrating strings and a fancy kettledrum
atop an open summer meadow air
there is never an endless ghetto there
for the maker of the fresh peach pie crust
the tuner of a Steinway piano and a treble clef
or a painter with her colors and her calico cat
or a clever strategist and a scribbled score
for the flute player fingering with a strong heart
each important note escaping at the whistled start
while the critic ate his worm
Sunday, June 12, 2011
sudden fate
the blue French Citroen
at the curb
in the dead of night
still missing one headlight
was idly waiting for the absent driver
intently knocking on the main wood door
of a grand city Maison
the entire reason
for his visit
was the slender beauty
and her long black hair
but the servant said she wasn't there
she was with her father
far away by many miles in Hue
the mother too was gone
and wouldn't return before the dawn
so the young man went to the Caravelle Hotel
and had a drink at the bar by twelve
he tried to sleep but couldn't
thought of driving north but knew he shouldn't
after all, there was a war about
& the hope of finding gas supplies wasn't great
so he fitfully tossed and turned
with visions of Thich Quang Duc calm and burned
who earlier seated slowly onto the cushion
in yogic lotus posture
inside his final pillar of fire
where the saffron flames danced ever higher
in an electric silence a hush
as monks and nuns pressed together
hands folded in prayer
crowds of Vietnamese stopped to stare
and soon a corrupt regime would end
but the war would continue
with more bitterness and sad tears
more horrible deaths for many more years.
at the curb
in the dead of night
still missing one headlight
was idly waiting for the absent driver
intently knocking on the main wood door
of a grand city Maison
the entire reason
for his visit
was the slender beauty
and her long black hair
but the servant said she wasn't there
she was with her father
far away by many miles in Hue
the mother too was gone
and wouldn't return before the dawn
so the young man went to the Caravelle Hotel
and had a drink at the bar by twelve
he tried to sleep but couldn't
thought of driving north but knew he shouldn't
after all, there was a war about
& the hope of finding gas supplies wasn't great
so he fitfully tossed and turned
with visions of Thich Quang Duc calm and burned
who earlier seated slowly onto the cushion
in yogic lotus posture
inside his final pillar of fire
where the saffron flames danced ever higher
in an electric silence a hush
as monks and nuns pressed together
hands folded in prayer
crowds of Vietnamese stopped to stare
and soon a corrupt regime would end
but the war would continue
with more bitterness and sad tears
more horrible deaths for many more years.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Percy Bysshe Shelley
he had no heart to burn
and only one to give.
it was said by some
he lost the will to live;
others say his ship was rammed
or simply poorly built
in Genoa where wild roses
bloom but never wilt.
but what did he see
under the waves being tossed
that could have spoken
to the radical genius lost?
was there a last strong line
of allegorical note
he might have uttered
toward the bottom of his boat?
was Lord Byron mad that Don Juan
was no longer floating?
the Tory newspaper
The Courier meanwhile was gloating:
Shelley has been drowned
and "now he knows
whether there is God or no."
but they were foes
not friends
as were his beloved Mary and Claire
and John Keats and Leigh Hunt
of a literary circle in England near where
he wrote The Revolution of the Golden City.
Prometheus Unbound was completed in Rome
before he set sail from Livorno to Lerici.
Tragically, he did not get home.
and only one to give.
it was said by some
he lost the will to live;
others say his ship was rammed
or simply poorly built
in Genoa where wild roses
bloom but never wilt.
but what did he see
under the waves being tossed
that could have spoken
to the radical genius lost?
was there a last strong line
of allegorical note
he might have uttered
toward the bottom of his boat?
was Lord Byron mad that Don Juan
was no longer floating?
the Tory newspaper
The Courier meanwhile was gloating:
Shelley has been drowned
and "now he knows
whether there is God or no."
but they were foes
not friends
as were his beloved Mary and Claire
and John Keats and Leigh Hunt
of a literary circle in England near where
he wrote The Revolution of the Golden City.
Prometheus Unbound was completed in Rome
before he set sail from Livorno to Lerici.
Tragically, he did not get home.
you know, don't you?
you know, don't you?
the roots are in a fertile soil
share the nutrients
suck the sun
sip the water
deflect the shade
or cry for more
with a voice that has cried before.
you know, don't you?
in every garden a good thing grows.
the hour for the gardener is always
the hour for the soil.
every flower appreciates the toil
the effort
the pruning
weeding and feeding.
will my flower laugh when I giggle
in passing
or am i asked to be the flower?
you know, don't you?
the roots are in a fertile soil
share the nutrients
suck the sun
sip the water
deflect the shade
or cry for more
with a voice that has cried before.
you know, don't you?
in every garden a good thing grows.
the hour for the gardener is always
the hour for the soil.
every flower appreciates the toil
the effort
the pruning
weeding and feeding.
will my flower laugh when I giggle
in passing
or am i asked to be the flower?
you know, don't you?
Monday, May 30, 2011
all the applause
unrelenting
beyond timberline
beyond reason
beyond cell phone service, OMG
the chilled air of nowhere
the heat of personal ambition
driving the hard effort
to ride a bicycle to a summit
Everest base camp in a damn white-out
black out
brown clouds above the white lines
passing lanes
passing out
out of breath
out of control
but not out of road
more impossible effort required
with the unfocused eye
the goal
far ahead inside the upper branches
fatigue robbing the lower limbs
the imagination
more pleasant than the actual physical effort
but not as rewarding as conquering this pain
the heavy weight
turning an incredible resisting pedal
gravity laughing at the joke
listening to the hypnotic voices of a splendid chorus
their music drifting sweetly
above the waves of the tender ocean
each urgent whisper singing
quit quit quit the whispers quit quit quit
but at the top
triumph
full relief
with a slow bicycle
and a fast heart
finally completely
more than satisfactorily
the legs walk away with all the applause
and the beer tastes all the more rewarding.
beyond timberline
beyond reason
beyond cell phone service, OMG
the chilled air of nowhere
the heat of personal ambition
driving the hard effort
to ride a bicycle to a summit
Everest base camp in a damn white-out
black out
brown clouds above the white lines
passing lanes
passing out
out of breath
out of control
but not out of road
more impossible effort required
with the unfocused eye
the goal
far ahead inside the upper branches
fatigue robbing the lower limbs
the imagination
more pleasant than the actual physical effort
but not as rewarding as conquering this pain
the heavy weight
turning an incredible resisting pedal
gravity laughing at the joke
listening to the hypnotic voices of a splendid chorus
their music drifting sweetly
above the waves of the tender ocean
each urgent whisper singing
quit quit quit the whispers quit quit quit
but at the top
triumph
full relief
with a slow bicycle
and a fast heart
finally completely
more than satisfactorily
the legs walk away with all the applause
and the beer tastes all the more rewarding.
Friday, May 27, 2011
roll on Columbia U
the God of war
isn't inside your nose
its snot and disgusting
undergraduate brain matter
witless on an early Friday afternoon
the white tiger stalks
the blue dragon pausing in attack
hears your juvenile rantings to wonder
after all that Blake has said
has it really come to this?
the Pagoda of Ravens
isn't the harbor where you dock
the ship of fools
the Lake of Scintillating Brightness
points to the near hill and mountains
visible in a forested distance
mock your childish NewYork babble
scorn?
there is no time for laughter
while the beautiful jade tree mounts
the granite steps at the entrance door
of literary study
so enjoy the sublime adolescence
sucking your wrinkled thumb
the lotus flower watches in amusement
from a ferry near Staten Island
the red-crowned turkey struts to your simple music
beyond the pulse of a Beethoven beat
the Gate of Dazzling Virtue
shades her eyes
pointing along the wide terrace
you are alone as you stroll
but you cannot pass through
the garden will not wait.
isn't inside your nose
its snot and disgusting
undergraduate brain matter
witless on an early Friday afternoon
the white tiger stalks
the blue dragon pausing in attack
hears your juvenile rantings to wonder
after all that Blake has said
has it really come to this?
the Pagoda of Ravens
isn't the harbor where you dock
the ship of fools
the Lake of Scintillating Brightness
points to the near hill and mountains
visible in a forested distance
mock your childish NewYork babble
scorn?
there is no time for laughter
while the beautiful jade tree mounts
the granite steps at the entrance door
of literary study
so enjoy the sublime adolescence
sucking your wrinkled thumb
the lotus flower watches in amusement
from a ferry near Staten Island
the red-crowned turkey struts to your simple music
beyond the pulse of a Beethoven beat
the Gate of Dazzling Virtue
shades her eyes
pointing along the wide terrace
you are alone as you stroll
but you cannot pass through
the garden will not wait.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
no one asked
when he walked into the bar
he hadn't traveled very far
and he didn't want to think
took his first mind-altering drink
then his second and a third
and being good to his word
people listening heard
complaints about personal poverty
and sexual highway robbery
and he wailed about the boys
jealous of his hot rod toys
girls who straightened curls
and TVs and killer bees
and the early death of Elvis
and his unappreciated pelvis
the blue suede shoes and Memphis blues
and tiny purple fishes
laughing at his southern dishes
in the seaside village of gloom
he kept looking at the room
but it kept spinning inside his head
no one heard a word he said
so he sat down on the floor
no one asked for any more
and he didn't want to sing
threw away his wedding ring
he tossed aside his wife
then he threw away his life
when he walked into the bar
he hadn't traveled very far
but he thought he knew the score
no one asked for any more
he hadn't traveled very far
and he didn't want to think
took his first mind-altering drink
then his second and a third
and being good to his word
people listening heard
complaints about personal poverty
and sexual highway robbery
and he wailed about the boys
jealous of his hot rod toys
girls who straightened curls
and TVs and killer bees
and the early death of Elvis
and his unappreciated pelvis
the blue suede shoes and Memphis blues
and tiny purple fishes
laughing at his southern dishes
in the seaside village of gloom
he kept looking at the room
but it kept spinning inside his head
no one heard a word he said
so he sat down on the floor
no one asked for any more
and he didn't want to sing
threw away his wedding ring
he tossed aside his wife
then he threw away his life
when he walked into the bar
he hadn't traveled very far
but he thought he knew the score
no one asked for any more
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
high at noon
if you think i'll go crazy when i decide to leave
don't be too quick to guess what you believe
i won't be picking up a spoon or jacking a knife
throwing it at my heart but sparing my life
if you think i'll cry,
or that i might die
when the clock strikes another high at noon
a new beginning might be coming soon
i can stand the flood of time
roaring inside this skin of mine
my world always felt strong
even when you done me wrong
and i was always guessing smart
when you said i was off the mark
i always dressed up real good
even if you didn't think i could
so what was it about love that i didn't understand
when i felt the lack of your loving hand?
what was it about time when i felt out of place?
you tied me in knots of ribbon and lace
not quite a prison and not quite a chore
what was all the wondering for?
if you think i'll go crazy when i decide to leave
don't be too quick to guess what you believe
and if you think i'll cry,
or that i just might die
when the clock strikes another high at noon
a new beginning might be coming soon
don't be too quick to guess what you believe
i won't be picking up a spoon or jacking a knife
throwing it at my heart but sparing my life
if you think i'll cry,
or that i might die
when the clock strikes another high at noon
a new beginning might be coming soon
i can stand the flood of time
roaring inside this skin of mine
my world always felt strong
even when you done me wrong
and i was always guessing smart
when you said i was off the mark
i always dressed up real good
even if you didn't think i could
so what was it about love that i didn't understand
when i felt the lack of your loving hand?
what was it about time when i felt out of place?
you tied me in knots of ribbon and lace
not quite a prison and not quite a chore
what was all the wondering for?
if you think i'll go crazy when i decide to leave
don't be too quick to guess what you believe
and if you think i'll cry,
or that i just might die
when the clock strikes another high at noon
a new beginning might be coming soon
Monday, May 16, 2011
Blue Archer
blue archer
Daniel
midland Texas baby
pump me up and
hold me down
i'm mining gold with a navy friend of mine
we're gonna paint the whole town
all at the right time
in the night time drinking bottles of wine
polishing pitchers full of gin
keeping poopers out, letting dancers in
sitting on the piano in silky black
natural motion natural fact
the girl with the most beautiful brown eyes
whispering a Swedish accent
and Hell to pay but Heaven sent
i'm still paying my dues and collecting rent
flying through mist at 5 thousand feet
looking for a decent hole to the happy sea
just tripping on my airplane seat
a friendly stewardess and lucky me
a new Jane Russell or Monroe
a Hollywood Honey for all i know
and have you heard what's really funny?
a sweet tooth and the lady doctor
playing with my stethoscope
it may be chasing skirts but i'm no dope
pumping iron in a sweaty room
balanced on the edge of doom
now she's calling me and i'm out of breath
where can i find a lover
baby
where can i find a lover
underneath the cloud cover
with no escort?
an armored ship without a port
baby baby baby baby
blue archer
Daniel
midland Texas baby
there are bullets flying and i never
turned due north or headed south
me and my damn big mouth
i never dodged a fist that i could swallow
dove head first into every battle
and never heard my throat catch or rattle
the sound of ten thousand maniacs roaring past
i'm spinning the radio dial trying to make it last
tap tap tap tap on the spectrum key
while she waited ever so patiently
all these heroes keeping warm
on the far western edge of Pacific dawn
many will survive but many more gone
with eyes hooded over from the night
and the music of a rising sun
beating like a samurai until it's done
blue archer
Daniel
midland Texas baby
where can i find a lover
baby
where can i find a lover
underneath the cloud cover
with no escort?
an armored ship without a port
baby baby baby baby
Daniel
midland Texas baby
pump me up and
hold me down
i'm mining gold with a navy friend of mine
we're gonna paint the whole town
all at the right time
in the night time drinking bottles of wine
polishing pitchers full of gin
keeping poopers out, letting dancers in
sitting on the piano in silky black
natural motion natural fact
the girl with the most beautiful brown eyes
whispering a Swedish accent
and Hell to pay but Heaven sent
i'm still paying my dues and collecting rent
flying through mist at 5 thousand feet
looking for a decent hole to the happy sea
just tripping on my airplane seat
a friendly stewardess and lucky me
a new Jane Russell or Monroe
a Hollywood Honey for all i know
and have you heard what's really funny?
a sweet tooth and the lady doctor
playing with my stethoscope
it may be chasing skirts but i'm no dope
pumping iron in a sweaty room
balanced on the edge of doom
now she's calling me and i'm out of breath
where can i find a lover
baby
where can i find a lover
underneath the cloud cover
with no escort?
an armored ship without a port
baby baby baby baby
blue archer
Daniel
midland Texas baby
there are bullets flying and i never
turned due north or headed south
me and my damn big mouth
i never dodged a fist that i could swallow
dove head first into every battle
and never heard my throat catch or rattle
the sound of ten thousand maniacs roaring past
i'm spinning the radio dial trying to make it last
tap tap tap tap on the spectrum key
while she waited ever so patiently
all these heroes keeping warm
on the far western edge of Pacific dawn
many will survive but many more gone
with eyes hooded over from the night
and the music of a rising sun
beating like a samurai until it's done
blue archer
Daniel
midland Texas baby
where can i find a lover
baby
where can i find a lover
underneath the cloud cover
with no escort?
an armored ship without a port
baby baby baby baby
Sunday, May 15, 2011
to linger
the small hill
it was no match for our skill
you made it to the top
and we shared the bottom
and hemlocks
i kept on my grey socks
you kept on your smile
and we had to linger
on Thursday
you had something to say
and i had something to ask
and we were both gratified
resting feet
heading for a repeat
the sun was warming us
as we laid hot blooded
then the drums
like happy little bums
erupted in silence
and we rose together
it was no match for our skill
you made it to the top
and we shared the bottom
and hemlocks
i kept on my grey socks
you kept on your smile
and we had to linger
on Thursday
you had something to say
and i had something to ask
and we were both gratified
resting feet
heading for a repeat
the sun was warming us
as we laid hot blooded
then the drums
like happy little bums
erupted in silence
and we rose together
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Sweet Prudence
Sweet Prudence
so much older today
Sweet Prudence
have you found a new place to play?
with expensive grownup toys
making lots of sunny noise
and you've found a new man
a Beatles fan
and he came looking for you
when you were blue
Sweet Prudence
what was he supposed to do?
Sweet Prudence
he found your smile
Sweet Prudence
but it took him a while
he found you hiding from the sun
you wouldn't walk & wouldn't run
and you stayed inside
lonely and cried
but he came looking for you
when you were blue
Sweet Prudence
what was he supposed to do?
then the guns went bang
while your sister sang
and the gurus bled
before the party fled
you were wearing white
dancing at night
won't you let me see your face?
has it disappeared without a trace?
Sweet Prudence
so much older today
Sweet prudence
have you found a new place to play?
so much older today
Sweet Prudence
have you found a new place to play?
with expensive grownup toys
making lots of sunny noise
and you've found a new man
a Beatles fan
and he came looking for you
when you were blue
Sweet Prudence
what was he supposed to do?
Sweet Prudence
he found your smile
Sweet Prudence
but it took him a while
he found you hiding from the sun
you wouldn't walk & wouldn't run
and you stayed inside
lonely and cried
but he came looking for you
when you were blue
Sweet Prudence
what was he supposed to do?
then the guns went bang
while your sister sang
and the gurus bled
before the party fled
you were wearing white
dancing at night
won't you let me see your face?
has it disappeared without a trace?
Sweet Prudence
so much older today
Sweet prudence
have you found a new place to play?
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Operation REDWING 1956
Trinity scared me
when I went shopping for a film
and found the bomb.
In radioactive sunlight
a Pacific cloud
swirled and roared
insanely loud.
The Navajo
near Dog Island
north of Bikini Atoll
saw the white sand.
It was piercing my eye
while exploding nearby.
I wore dark glasses
and felt the sting
of this incredible thing.
My flesh burned
by super-heated air
once loved
now no longer there.
A kiloton
became a megaton
before the testing was done
and the dirty device
became clean
but what did that mean?
The dragon breath
meant an early death
in a roll of fire and scorn
crushing a rose
snapping a thorn
and a thousand or ten
or a million or five
living now
would be barely alive.
when I went shopping for a film
and found the bomb.
In radioactive sunlight
a Pacific cloud
swirled and roared
insanely loud.
The Navajo
near Dog Island
north of Bikini Atoll
saw the white sand.
It was piercing my eye
while exploding nearby.
I wore dark glasses
and felt the sting
of this incredible thing.
My flesh burned
by super-heated air
once loved
now no longer there.
A kiloton
became a megaton
before the testing was done
and the dirty device
became clean
but what did that mean?
The dragon breath
meant an early death
in a roll of fire and scorn
crushing a rose
snapping a thorn
and a thousand or ten
or a million or five
living now
would be barely alive.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
sugar bum fairy
sugar bum fairy
criticizing my long hair
but it's just another day to them
now why do they care?
sugar bum fairy
it simply grows crazy on top
and no matter how i style it
they never stop.
it's like my door is open
and the lock and the key
they use them whenever
and never ask me.
sugar bum fairy
i'm floating on a river
with yesterdays' news
not asking permission
to go wherever i choose.
sugar bum fairy
across the universe
in a cloud of circus hair
i'm floating in orbit
won't find scissors there.
sugar bum fairy
sugar bum fairy
criticizing my long hair
but it's just another day to them
now why do they care?
sugar bum fairy
it simply grows crazy on top
and no matter how i style it
they never stop.
it's like my door is open
and the lock and the key
they use them whenever
and never ask me.
sugar bum fairy
i'm floating on a river
with yesterdays' news
not asking permission
to go wherever i choose.
sugar bum fairy
across the universe
in a cloud of circus hair
i'm floating in orbit
won't find scissors there.
sugar bum fairy
sugar bum fairy
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
27 to 12
twenty seven to twelve
and i'm still in bed
watching you
waiting to be fed
and we just met
on a sidewalk
and all i said
was we should talk
but i'm always lonely
and you're no stranger
you like the risk
thrive on the danger
listen to the sound of heat
escaping my open window
you grab me high
i wrap you low
as the hours slowly slip by
and the sun disappears
you tattoo me
with your tears
i'm sure it's all fun
if i knew your name
we could say hello
and do it all again
but then i hear the phone
calling in the night
a friend wanting to know
if i'm alright
and then i'm gone
and you're a pet
out on the street
getting wet
you walk up to a car
and drive away
i hear a voice
but can't hear what you say
and i'm still in bed
watching you
waiting to be fed
and we just met
on a sidewalk
and all i said
was we should talk
but i'm always lonely
and you're no stranger
you like the risk
thrive on the danger
listen to the sound of heat
escaping my open window
you grab me high
i wrap you low
as the hours slowly slip by
and the sun disappears
you tattoo me
with your tears
i'm sure it's all fun
if i knew your name
we could say hello
and do it all again
but then i hear the phone
calling in the night
a friend wanting to know
if i'm alright
and then i'm gone
and you're a pet
out on the street
getting wet
you walk up to a car
and drive away
i hear a voice
but can't hear what you say
Monday, May 2, 2011
sweet Sam
sweet Sam
from your high rise window
standing on the top most floor
can you see me in my uniform
marching off to war?
can you see my tiny fingers
with youthful polished nails
flipping silver treasure coins
calling heads or tails?
i'm not sure how to choose
as you're pointing down this road
i keep looking for the question
which no answer ever showed.
sweet Sam
what is this foreign floor?
i can see it far below.
go faster is all you said
and just enjoy the show.
can you see me tremble?
i'm in black smoke and noise
resting like a baby now
with my little childhood toys.
remember when i gave it all?
marching to triumphant songs
i still felt strangely missing
having righted all the wrongs.
so, remember when you see the sky
the sparkle is my eye
and when you're feeling proud
i'm somewhere in the crowd
and the song
which everybody knows
millions of roses and yellow bows
i sang that once before
when i was marching off to war.
from your high rise window
standing on the top most floor
can you see me in my uniform
marching off to war?
can you see my tiny fingers
with youthful polished nails
flipping silver treasure coins
calling heads or tails?
i'm not sure how to choose
as you're pointing down this road
i keep looking for the question
which no answer ever showed.
sweet Sam
what is this foreign floor?
i can see it far below.
go faster is all you said
and just enjoy the show.
can you see me tremble?
i'm in black smoke and noise
resting like a baby now
with my little childhood toys.
remember when i gave it all?
marching to triumphant songs
i still felt strangely missing
having righted all the wrongs.
so, remember when you see the sky
the sparkle is my eye
and when you're feeling proud
i'm somewhere in the crowd
and the song
which everybody knows
millions of roses and yellow bows
i sang that once before
when i was marching off to war.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
the scar
my dad kept brass knuckles in a bedroom dresser drawer
underneath my mother's white panties.
he had a temper, that's for sure.
he was a fist fighter, i was told.
once, during a baseball game he was catching for his Marietta
team, a local cop arrived to arrest the second baseman.
when the cop walked onto the field to get his man, my dad flipped
his mask and ran to get the cop. And he did, so I was told.
and later, he got me, more than once.
but i don't want to talk about my childhood.
well, there is this:
my first three speed bike was too big for me.
but i rode it to elementary school anyway.
i watched a girl friend of my mother after she took a shower at our house,
peeking in from outside while she was drying herself. Those were the first
real breasts i ever saw, and there was nothing special about them.
i was curious about a female body, but can't remember why.
i have a long very visible scar on my right forearm.
the scar has a history, but i can't remember what it was.
i was a good high school wrestler.
today, i continue to watch my weight.
i shot at frogs along the shoreline of a large pond, using
a BB rifle.
no frogs shot at me.
underneath my mother's white panties.
he had a temper, that's for sure.
he was a fist fighter, i was told.
once, during a baseball game he was catching for his Marietta
team, a local cop arrived to arrest the second baseman.
when the cop walked onto the field to get his man, my dad flipped
his mask and ran to get the cop. And he did, so I was told.
and later, he got me, more than once.
but i don't want to talk about my childhood.
well, there is this:
my first three speed bike was too big for me.
but i rode it to elementary school anyway.
i watched a girl friend of my mother after she took a shower at our house,
peeking in from outside while she was drying herself. Those were the first
real breasts i ever saw, and there was nothing special about them.
i was curious about a female body, but can't remember why.
i have a long very visible scar on my right forearm.
the scar has a history, but i can't remember what it was.
i was a good high school wrestler.
today, i continue to watch my weight.
i shot at frogs along the shoreline of a large pond, using
a BB rifle.
no frogs shot at me.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
under blue skies
it's not funny
when the waterfall spills
between the sharper rock
and the steeper hills
under blue skies
clothed in gray perfume
between the shouting crowd
and the silent room
finding cover
wild pleasure around
paying full attention
not hearing a sound
drifting on air
while paradise sleeps
between the sad Angel
and the God who weeps
it's cold comfort
that heated blood flows
when everyone's lonely
and everyone knows
turn down the lights
remember the sun
and do unto others
what needs to be done
it's not funny
when the waterfall spills
between the sharper rock
and the steeper hills
under blue skies
clothed in white perfume
between the shouting crowd
and the silent room
when the waterfall spills
between the sharper rock
and the steeper hills
under blue skies
clothed in gray perfume
between the shouting crowd
and the silent room
finding cover
wild pleasure around
paying full attention
not hearing a sound
drifting on air
while paradise sleeps
between the sad Angel
and the God who weeps
it's cold comfort
that heated blood flows
when everyone's lonely
and everyone knows
turn down the lights
remember the sun
and do unto others
what needs to be done
it's not funny
when the waterfall spills
between the sharper rock
and the steeper hills
under blue skies
clothed in white perfume
between the shouting crowd
and the silent room
Thursday, April 21, 2011
nothing much to say
these clear tears were so heavy
they were impossible to lift
but seeing you smile by my side
was a special gift
a memory of a walk through the woods
in a creek and over trees
i wanted to tell you how much
you please
the green field and yellow flowers
our time spent in lazy minutes
turned slowly into hours
while the sun warmed the soft air
watched us quietly explore
straying from the narrow trail
we had enough but wanted more:
cars and the noise they make
in exhausted life seem so fake
i called you closer to my side
there was no where to hide
so i had you in the meadow grass
i the lad and you the lass
hearts content on an April day
there's not much more to say
the fiddle head ferns and property lines
little yellow signs
nailed into thick bark
but just a momentary mark
and cutting our initials into wood
thinking we should
we tumbled like little elves
far from our serious adult shelves
they were impossible to lift
but seeing you smile by my side
was a special gift
a memory of a walk through the woods
in a creek and over trees
i wanted to tell you how much
you please
the green field and yellow flowers
our time spent in lazy minutes
turned slowly into hours
while the sun warmed the soft air
watched us quietly explore
straying from the narrow trail
we had enough but wanted more:
cars and the noise they make
in exhausted life seem so fake
i called you closer to my side
there was no where to hide
so i had you in the meadow grass
i the lad and you the lass
hearts content on an April day
there's not much more to say
the fiddle head ferns and property lines
little yellow signs
nailed into thick bark
but just a momentary mark
and cutting our initials into wood
thinking we should
we tumbled like little elves
far from our serious adult shelves
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
story in the air
when the wall came apart
and i slipped and fell
i lost my head and my heart
but who could really tell?
no message could get through
but i heard the cry
then i couldn't find you
and i didn't know why.
there was a story in the air
everybody was afraid
they went looking for their share
but it hadn't been made.
and the radio went dead
mountains of smoke and fire
exactly like the old books said
the oceans were growing higher.
danger like an angry snake
coiled with a baby in his bed
and i ran and had nothing to take
i talked but heard nothing i said.
a creek washed over my feet
i went into water to find you
but there was no one there to meet
i wondered if you always knew
when the wall came apart
and i slipped and fell
i lost my head and my heart
but who could really tell?
and i slipped and fell
i lost my head and my heart
but who could really tell?
no message could get through
but i heard the cry
then i couldn't find you
and i didn't know why.
there was a story in the air
everybody was afraid
they went looking for their share
but it hadn't been made.
and the radio went dead
mountains of smoke and fire
exactly like the old books said
the oceans were growing higher.
danger like an angry snake
coiled with a baby in his bed
and i ran and had nothing to take
i talked but heard nothing i said.
a creek washed over my feet
i went into water to find you
but there was no one there to meet
i wondered if you always knew
when the wall came apart
and i slipped and fell
i lost my head and my heart
but who could really tell?
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Jessica in Madrid, Spring 2006
daughter is empowering herself