summer through spring's eyes

I'm a little tired of worries
so much greater than cares

and gaining sharp wisdom in
sudden, painful shares

I want wisdom incrementally
measured, in grains

that come in piling up from living,
in day to day gains

knowing right, feeling right
in our bones, in our eyes

perhaps, come the autumn
we'll have grown more wise


_________

This is a revision of an earlier work. Click on the poem title to toggle between

just keep walking

in my life,
you were like
when you're walking at speed
and you totally trip
over nothing - your feet
but you look back as if
you could see what it was
insignificant crack? or
just clumsiness dust?
well that's kind of like you
in my life, you're the crack
you're the trip over nothing
- but still I look back
with that impatient look
as if something was there
that would make it not my fault
for tripping on air

frogs, myopia

frogs
do not wear eyeglasses
you could fit a frog
with eyeglasses
tiny wire-rimmed ones
with real, prescription lenses
round and specially-made
to correct the sight
of big, froggy googley eyes
the frog would see
so much better, but would not
understand how or why
you might
have to fit the wire-rims
in, somehow, the leg
or arm
or whatever you call that part
of the eyeglasses frame that extends back
behind the ears, well
frogs' ears
(if at all)
aren't much, so
as much as we don't like to think about it,
you'd probably have to punch those wires
right into the skull
a little bit
to keep those glasses on while mr. frog
is frog-hopping around.

He'll see better!
But he won't know why
or how

it would take
almost a Godlike
Optometrist
to fit that frog
with a prescription that fits
his unique needs. With:
"Better now?
...or now?"
"This one?
...or this?"

as the lenses click
and snick, and shift

from focus blurred, to clean
to crisp

and the frog just sits
and says

"ribbit!"

that kiss better be...!

don't kiss me unless
you mean it
I mean it
don't kiss me
ironically - no
I don't need it
don't pitch hypothetical
lip situations, with
full demonstration
and
let me
believe it

when you only meant it
for instance,
I guess

I don't need any
pity kisses, no
sympathy pecks
no tongue-in-cheek
tongues in my
cheek - don't kiss me
unless!
you feel
gravity's pull

biology's push
electricity's
jolt, and
chemistry's
rush, it takes
everything working
together at once

completely in sync
with whatever it wants -
that union of two
(when both mean it)
creates

conjunction,
alignment
affinity

fate

mighty explorer, immortal, unknown

he made his mark on the shifting sands
but the wind blew it all away

he carved his name on the seven seas
but the letters didn't stay

Still - wherever you go, just know:
he's been

and whatever you think:
he's said

you are no pioneer, no original, no
but in your favor, though -

he's dead

unpracticed art

beneath your shirt
that clip or clasp
behind your back
with one deft twist
my fingers loose
- my left hand has
the knack of it
my right hand knows
there's no excuse!

dumb like a duck

I'm
dumb like a duck
not like ducks are
dumb! but they sure do act
it sometimes, they do.
But I guess to be fair

I should say I'm as dumb
as a bear, or a dog
or a cow, or
you

The sky

I don't believe in the sky, or in anything
that comes from the sky, or is supposed
to live in the sky, or exist beyond the
sky - God, angels, aliens, stars, clouds
meteors, asteroids, galaxies, comets or
any of that - planes, I believe in since
we send them up. But I won't get in one,
it's too much like faith - which I will
not believe in. Faith is an affront. I for
one don't buy this whole faith business,
as if there was some dome, unsubstantial
but opaque blue in the day, transparent
at night to let the light shine through
the black - no. Absurd. Lightning, I do
believe in, but I believe everything past
the lightning (which after all - hits us,
burns us! So we can easily believe) is
simply an illusion for fools. The sky

The sky is not for me.

summer as usual

it was usually summer
as you and me,
in love
as always
would say to
ourselves
"surely,

there is no more to life than this,"

The sea lapped the beach
and our words away
you and I sat still
lapping the world
like an ice cream cone
with our eyes

while we shared licks
from an actual ice cream cone:

soft-serve

black and white

isn't this just nice?
aren't we complete?

is your tongue cold,
sweet?

profile

I read you clean, between the lines
how beautiful your picture is

but pictures lie, I know sometimes
and words and eyes and souls and lips

how beautiful they seem (they seem)
hey is that picture really you?

I guess it could be someone else
how would I know? For real and true

I'm filling all your details in
if you won't tell, they're mine to spill

I can't be sure, but I can spin
the story you won't tell, I will

a tale or two to flesh you out
with grinning teeth and blushing skin

a mind without a spot of doubt
invents a box, and stuffs you in

beatbox by the cherry blossoms (a haiku)

I'm emcee haiku
and my rhymes are like zen math
except they don't rhyme

you'll use that dirty talk

you use that filthy talk
coming out of your mouth
to get me aroused
in a place down south
that I call the groin
making it go "boing"
and if we're out and about, yeah
it's pretty annoying

I like

I like
long walks
on the astral plane
beating everyone at my own damn game
taking things in stride where I should have stood still

letting everything ride, on one toss of the wheel
I am loaded as dice, I speak clearly
as feel, I make consequences happen
by savoir-faire

I like
straightening my hair,
with one pass of the hand

I don't even use a mirror
I'm just feeling it, man

I like
picking my way
I like
winking at dudes
I like
smiling at girls

calling enemies
"FRIEND"

I like
helping old ladies
decide what to rent
at the video store
without spoiling the end

I like
antique cocktails, I like
ordering drinks

and I don't really care
what the bartender thinks
if he says he don't know
what it is, I just shrug
"Hey man, neither do I -
improvise something up!"

Der Murderer

Der Murderer slunk
down black alleyways
away from grisly scenes,
and towards still other grisly scenes
that was his scene, his bag, his thing
his whistling lips
traced eerie notes
upon the night,
grown two shades dark
- then two shades light,
as he passed past,
through air grown thick
with sick and fright

The City
pulled itself inside its brownstone bones
to hide, to hide,
it clutched its million bodies tight,
and groaned -
"Der Murderer's outside!"

cake haiku

When it comes to cake,
I've made my choice: I will have
none, and eat it all.

another thing I never

I never believe a word
I hear the angel say
to me

it's never good advice,
for one thing
always some bizarre
and cosmic task
that I refuse to undertake
let alone complete:

"You must go
to the very top of
that mountain, up there
and find out what
they're doing
at that little
installation
- you see the one?
With the dome
and antenna?"

Sure thing, wings
how 'bout you fly me up
there, huh?

no sense wasting gas

save the planet

callout

sometimes
don't you wish there was
a zombie outbreak,
or a monster attack
something awful like that?

not that you want the death
and destruction and all
but it gives an excuse
not to go into work

if the world
would collapse

jealousy is what

Jealousy is what
you know
you want
to see
a little of,

you have
to feel
the proof, you have
to see that you
are wanted, but
just
not too much
the passion in
a flash of proof
of anger, ire,
the claim dispute
whose rights are
whose? to feel
that you
are claimed
entire

yesternever

yesternever came
to pass
us by
without
so much as
"hi!"

you don't want much

I know you don't want much,
but here I am

and I am a bit much,
you know

but I think we can do
quite a lot with too much

just watch out for the overflow

eventually no obstacle

ain't no doubt about the mountain
that mountain is as high as it gets
as high as it needs to be, certainly
high enough to keep me from getting over
you bet!
I'm not climbing that thing
I'll go around

No doubt about the river, either
that river is as wide as you can see
as wide as you could ask a river to be
wide enough to keep me on this side,
anyway

it's too wide to bridge,
and I can't swim, but
hey, I'll wait

from close inspection
of the foliage, I predict
by late May,

I'll be able to wade

trampoline

on the property next door
there are a couple young girls
(now when I say "young girls" -
they're not young, in fact,
they are way too old to be
bouncing on trampolines
every single day this week
and screaming, but) who
have bounced on a trampoline
every damn day this week
screaming, nonetheless. Now,
I actually think that's kind
of sweet! Hold on to your youth,
you know, pretty tight if you
can. Really, I'm not one
of these curmudgeony guys
who when life turned sour,
set his face and decided
to push and pull us all along
down the path of "Now, grow up
and die!" - but I'm kind of mad
about these girls. Because why
do they get a trampoline?

They get a trampoline, and I

am still saving up for my
hammock

catharsis,

catharsis, self
-caused, but you led
the way. You sure woke me
up, you cleaned me out,
you set me straight.
This was some technique,
you picked up from some expert,
or course? Or a program of your own
devising? Or perhaps
just the seat of your pants,
just the tip of your tongue,
the feel of your
hands

all over
me and my life, to make
me think that all
is in splendid array,
the future filling in,
in broad strokes and lines,
good things on the way

- when meanwhile

in reality, every day -

you inched sideways.
Another inch
towards the door.
Fine. Those inches
added up, and now
you've got only
one
foot
left

in my life.
I can see which way
it's planted. Don't say goodbye

let the door

feel abandoned, cry,
hit you on the way out

The way out does not care why.

no cavities, ma

My mouth pulled apart by contraptions.
my breath smells like blood
and the hard suction hose
pinching
the exquisite metal hook
adapted for the purpose
from an ancient implement wielded
to far less therapeutic effect
during the grand days of the Inquisition
now,
used deftly with care
by a caring, caring hand
flushed blood
with water
and a needle,
and cotton
and something -
what is that thing, could you wait
and tell me what that is before you
PUT IT IN MY MOUTH?

ah me
my cell vibrating
or is it my whole body?
either way

I can't talk right now

tell no one

GREAT!

GOOD NEWS

YOU HAVE DONE YOUR PART

WHEN YOU GET HERE, THE PLAN WILL GO

INTO ACTION


UNTIL THEN, I WILL CONTINUE
STOCKPILING MATERIALS

AND FINISHING DETAILS

YOU HAVE DONE YOUR PART

COUNT ON ME TO DO MINE

ALL IS IN READINESS

OR WILL BE BY THEN


UNTIL THEN, STAY STRONG AND REMEMBER

THE CAUSE

THIS IS THEIR CHOICE NOT OURS

THEY HAVE BROUGHT THIS DOWN

WE WILL BRING THEIR CHOICES HOME TO THEM

AND THE WORLD WILL CALL US WRONG

BUT WHEN HISTORY IS WRITTEN


IT WILL BE BY US


UNTIL THEN

TELL NO ONE

TELL NO ONE

TELL NO ONE

unconcerned

I'm unconcerned as to whether
the love you have for me is true.
You say it is. Fair enough: so be
it. I require no proofs, desire no
assurances or guarantees. For my part,
though,
please.
Let me tender you this
inviolable
oath:

I swear upon all I hold precious:
Upon your lips
upon your sweet patootie
and your hoo hoo
upon your bazooms
and your other, (arguably)
less sexually-charged
parts - but really though,
that's bull because your fingers
and toes, your chin and nose,
your eyes
your hair from roots to tips
all your fine lines, sweeping
curves and surfaces that come
together to make one really
rather stunning package in my mind,
in my book, in my hands or preferably
in my lap - well. The whole is so much
more than some list of exquisite parts,
each of them so precious individually,
but taken together I will take them
together and I will take them forever.
I will take you forever.

My life, so much
as is left to me to live,
so much as is in my gift
to give,

I give to you.

(but you already knew)

the twisted way

the twisted way wound round
the town three times without
crossing its own path twice,
it passed over passes and delved
tunnels under, a wonder it wasn't
much known or walked, but then those
who knew
told true stories and gave good advice
to the asker
to leave it alone
and it wasn't as if
it was easy to find
- or once found -
to find your way
back home

"Alta"

nine times the shine
and bruised from climbing
but worth the climb
I only fell once
but it was all the way down
on the way back up
all the lessons I left behind,
I found

and held on,
for dear life, this time
I've been leaning on rock
clinging tight so long
that to finally stand up
at the top
feels wrong

but the sun feels fine
and my lungs up here
love the air, so rare
I could disappear
right into it
thin air - oh
oxygen,

I am in your debt
let my light, light head
just spin 'til it's time
to go

not yet

Einstein's desk

Einstein’s desk flowed
over with work
he was right

in the middle of life
when he died
looking forward

to finishing up
this or that, and starting
the other

death took him
in stride

~written in response to SkyBluePink Poetry Prompt "Einstein's Desk" - thanks, Alice!~

a shadow of wings

I sat waiting
drinking ice water
looking out at the sky
my mind a million miles away
and a million miles wide
and the future, far off
kept its distance and pace

The chill came and went
between finger-taps
something flew between me and the sun, perhaps

a man stepped over my future grave
private property
bleak
way out in a woods
with more needles than trees
pine barrens
no leaves
just a dry, springy crunch
underfoot
unease
in a weak, winter sun
felt a chill and stopped cold
looked around, wondered what
fate had taken hold
brought him out so far
brought him so far out

with a shovel in hand
and with no living thing
left in heart or in mind
left in fear or in doubt
he stood till the mood passed, and then
he looked down

with decision, out loud
out of doubt, out of fear
he said:
"Here will do.
Here."

ghosts of gulls

the haunting song of gulls drags my soul
out to sea
while my eyes scan gray and empty skies
wondering where they
be

Ode to F'ing Spring

Spring
throws off her winter clothes
and steps
naked
limbs showered with cool rain,
as the sun breaks itself
into rainbows upon her
skin
the opening of buds
like the parting of a curtain,
the trill of insects and birdsong
as the orchestra strikes up
the scent of that perfume
as the sap of the green green grass grows strong,
and the hot pollen of a million different fronds
lays that sweet hay-fever on
ya,
yeah,
Spring,
she can come on pretty heavy.
Spring - that slut!
that hussy
the most wanton of the seasons
Summer may be brazener,
Winter may be kind of kinky under all those layers...
Autumn may engross you fully with her intellectual airs
but Spring - man, Spring -

Spring just wants it. You can tell
Spring has got it bad

and I
have got it pretty bad myself

amusement

soul's
slipping out the two holes
you punched in my side
in one, out the other
when you came and went
slide
just that fast,
one hell of a long line
for a ride that was over
before I got inside but
on to the next
attraction, I guess
can I hold your hand on the way?
thanks, you're the best

holding ten bouquets

the guy that I used to buy flowers from
has such a sad face
I swear to God
but each time I pull in to that same ATM
(that I used to live by), man -
he just lights up

I don't live near anymore,
so I don't really see him that much
just occasionally, Thursday nights
I'll forget to get cash
for the pool hall dive
down the street from the bank that I used to live by

so I'll have to pull in,
to the bank
by the guy
with the really sad face
holding ten bouquets

I would always buy one
(when I lived back then)

he remembers me now

we await better days

draft, none-too-smooth

my mind has a body of its own
and it's yours: every curvature,
texture and shape takes its place
forcing all other sight and sensation
to one side,

the thought of you fills
every crack in my mind

I don't know the difference
between in-between and underneath
sense
surround
pulse beat
just breathe

I am blood
I am breath
I am thought
you are vein
you are lungs
you are brain

this poem is getting kind of gross and lam.e

If I find a better angle I will try it again!

for what he said to you

when I've had a few drinks,
sometimes
I want to murder that guy
for what he said to you
before I was around
before I knew you
now,

I am not an animal
I'm a man, civilized
I am well in control.
You do not need

to keep me away from him
or
to keep him away from me

I'm a civilized
man.
in fact, you could even
introduce us.

sometime
when I've had a few drinks

I am made out of

I am made
out of apologies
and things I shouldn't
ought to have

or said
or thought or
done or felt -
badly done,
and over
well

they
can't be helped
I'm sorry, though
I won't tell you
it would seem wrong
you'd think I'm crazy
keeping it alive
so long, so long
so long

this morning is all

this morning was all we had left
and we sipped it in, with our coffee
grown cold and sweet
and sad, we
guess

we
have two
more things planned, that
we could easily go do, but
hell with them. Please let's
just hang onto

this morning
could be all we have left, if
we don't decide
right now

if we don't decide right now, we
may miss a chance

so what if we already have

dim

I never had any real
dark nights of the soul,
just these melodramatic
exaggerations. Nights where
I want to stand in the middle
of the road until somebody hits
me. But I don't. It wouldn't exactly
be fair to them.

Would it?

fell from stars

If I fell from stars,
some strange new being
not seen before, not
meant to be

stretched out at length
into your arms,
to gasp
in air so alien,

a halo burnt
bright atmosphere
too hard and hot
shot through too fast

I could not be
much more surprised
to see your eyes
my home,
at last

the breakfast dishes

bacon crumbs, and hardened yolk
there's maybe one more whistle's-worth
of juice, but the coffee's good and
gone.

We both could use more. There are grounds enough
here
for two more cups.
But that's about it
So

I'll get the maker going, I will
hot us up
and top us off and then,
I guess we sit
and figure out how

best to start
the day.

prop

am I a prop
just for this scene,
then back into the
property room backstage? or
I could be a prop
like a crutch or a cane
that you desperately need
while you get someplace -
it makes a difference, though
if I'm just for show, well
put me away
until opening night
When the crowd has paid,
and you're all they see
if the play turns real
you can lean on me

this is your spotlight.

the distance imp

the distance between us is up to no good
it sits in my lap telling all of those lies
about you, that I'll haltingly ask you about
couched in mild hypothetical terms, as if I've
no suspicion at all - a disinterested sleuth
- you'll deny with a laugh, but there's this nervous edge
'cause the distance between us has told you the truth.
It flew in your window, and drove in the wedge