Monday, April 25, 2011

One in Billions

Flame rolls off the bark licking the stiffness from my fingers.
Face flushes
Deep red pressing to the surface
Boyish good looks or childish features?
One of ten billion
feeling so unique
Like a snowflake
Not possible to be original.

Time passes
The same for everyone?
Each individual mind frozen in a block of consciousness.
Dripping moments of life into the wax bowl of human experience.
The flame rolls back
Hardness sets in
Blue, Brown, & Green
Fish bowl

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


When you're feeling sick
The world contains no odor
Will this ever end?

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Poem written backstage before a performance

Sun sits on the horizon
Time to rise then
Take the stage
A brilliant sage
Or a failure
You're never sure
Until the lights are out

My bones shivering, shaking
They'll see that I'm a fake
Can I walk out there
face my fear
Find the bravery
The only way to see
my commitments to the end

I find my center and calm
Shake my hands and flex my palms
stretch my hips
breathe in sips
twist my head
Blow out the dread
And find I'm ready to go on.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

The loss of my Grandmother

Turning the silver crank, I watch my grandmother sink into the shining casket.
They fold in her blanket and lower the lid.
I watch them push the lid,
Open it,
Adjust her body,
and reapply force.
I'll be carrying that casket in a few minutes.
I have no worries about the weight:
It won't be much more than the weight of the casket.

Where has she gone
The woman who couldn't have a friend over without a deck of cards.
Who loved gambling
A penny a point
A trip to the casino.
Only the dealer is wild
And she was a wild one
Full of life.

Until Parkinson's hit

She became scared,
Left her home,
I won more card games than I lost
She saw the water and the spiders spitting their disease.
She was found on the floor
Christmas Evening
Trading turkey for physical therapy

The promise of home if only she would get "better"

She pushed herself through the pain to end in a nursing home.
On her deathbed she whispered the hope of returning home.
Withered, Dry, and Dying with only one request:
To Go Home!

It's hard to think of her at home when my hand wraps around her cold wrist,
Or as I lift her permanent home by the cold chrome

She wrote a letter that expressed her belief that she was joining my grandpa.
All I can see is her joining him in a house of dirt and worms,
Locked away,
Dropped down,
Sealed in,

She'll be missed,
but is she mist?
Is she somewhere
And Loving

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Ring

This was inspired by a poem which was inspired by a story which was inspired by a young boy on a bus holding a dogs collar.

He holds her wedding ring
Remembering the water shift tones
As he washed away the color or her

The cold gold.
No substitute for the feel of her radiant hand
Between his fingers.

The tears start
The Wail
She will never dry those tears again
Never comfort the heart


He lifts his child and rocks her,
but all that is left to guide her back
from the maze of grief.

Time for a Break

Cacophony of voices fill the room with bodies in every position:
Standing, sitting, squatting
more difficult to control than children.

Silence sweeps across the hall.
Dust bunnies of finishing conversations remain.

Diving into lecture she scares away the last bunny.
Hopping to its hole of politeness.

Information flows
but food has obstructed the ears.
Ideas are sucked in but the vacuum is clogged
A lack of power
A small cough
And dust spurts out again.
Motors are slowing down
Almost out of oil
Brain seized
Time for a rest
Time for a break


          Why do I shake at the tree of the populous?
          A leaf falling from the branch of a poplar.
          Blown by a wind of people screaming the details of their life.

I write of myself
I think of myself
I'm concerned for my health
I see myself as a sensitive soul
Yet I have no belief in a soul

          I hate entitlement
          Everyone is an expert, an artist, must be heard
          My ideas are artistic and I should be heard

I'm a joke!!!

Everyone is laughing but it's not me they are laughing at because their every thought is of themselves.

And so I shake
alone and afraid


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