Beside a small pond
hidden in a cedar grove,
a homely shed stands,
indifferently attended,
not for lack of love
but for aching old bodies,
children too busy,
and grandchildren far too young
or moved just too far away.
family
Talking with Grandfather in his Cluttered Workshop
Am I a hoarder? Surely no!
This workshop might belie that, though…
Full of bins of salvaged parts
of broken things from long ago.
That bin of wheels from broken carts
I though might be replacement parts
for whom a use has not been found
These odd bits, we’ll use for arts?
My thinking here might not be sound.
But I like having parts around
to employ when something breaks
And another can’t be found.
Still… None of this was some mistake!
Imagine all the things we’ll make.
Imagine all the things we’ll make!
Listen Up!
When the onus
on a penis
is no less
relentless
than the stigma
on a vagina,
men may have the option
to discuss abortion
but drafting legislation
to govern procreation
must remain the mandate
of those who have to gestate!
Long Unspoken Fury
How was it my fault,
Dad,
When those dime store Wallabees
Melted through the furnace grate?
How you always chided me
When I said I was afraid,
“Don’t be such a fraidy cat.”
Now you stand and seethe, enraged
Learning what I always know.
Floor grates lead to misery
And premature, stinky, deaths
For green plastic army men
And your cheap-ass knock-off shoes!
Preemptive Requiem
Should I die today,
I trust that you’ll imagine
All the things I’d have to say.
Except, perhaps, I love you.
Friends, Family, and Loved Ones.
As we prepare for this Memorial Day; a time to honor and thank all of those who sacrificed their lives to assure that our American society could continue, I would like to take a few minutes to propose a little thought experiment.
My purpose is to cast neither blame nor judgement but rather to inspire contemplation and encourage conscious choice in our celebratory behavior.
Many of us will gather in groups, Monday, to pay tribute to our fallen ancestors. Imagine you are there, in that gathering now, well before you actually arrive. Think about this example, and let your conscience be the guide to your personal behavior.
Picture in your mind, the celebratory environment you plan. Imagine the size of the crowd. Think about the personalities of the people with whom you will be gathering. Consider their occupations and the number of people they must interact with daily and the closeness of those interactions. Contemplate, based on those factors, how many of the people gathered will be wearing masks and how many will not. Honestly and fearlessly reflect on whether you or your immediate family will be masked or unmasked. Do you have that image firmly in your mind?
Now comes the hard part- please read the remainder with an open mind and do not assume any prejudice!
Imagine that at the culmination of the celebration, a time comes for everyone in the crowd to draw a handgun and fire all rounds straight up, into the air- kind of a all guns salute to the fallen. Appropriate, since we are honoring those who fell in battle to assure our freedom.
Thinking back of the image you formed earlier of your holiday crowd, imagine that all those wearing masks are firing blanks and all those without are firing live rounds.
Ask yourselves, in all honesty, would you wish that you and your family, friends, and loved ones were also wearing military helmets or had, even, chosen to celebrate somewhere else?
Savage Waters
This disease leaves wounds,
rivers both wide and deep.
Too deep for fording
and much too wide for bridges,
so we build ferries
and brave treacherous waters,
holding connections
to our loved ones long estranged
by these savage waters wide.
For the Farmer and the Fisherman
Today I walked alone,
Silently, among the fallen.
Snowy cold, standing stones
Basking ‘neath the setting sun
Stretching to eternity.
Here among these Legions,
I came across the one
Bearing my mother’s maiden name.
One of many, stretching back
To our very founding;
Fathers, grandfathers and greats.
Not all of whom retired here
To this, once, grand old estate.
Another found, I know, his rest
In a distant mountain stream,
The place he lived his later life,
The place he loved, by far, the best.
I honor them, those grand old men,
My few, among the many,
Not only for their sacrifice;
I honor them, out of love,
And, I suppose, that must suffice.
Evensong
Shrill
Inarticulate warbles
Muted in passage through walls
And woods.
Anger
Understood by tone
And cadence long before
Any sound clarifies to coherent
Words
Heat
Beat
hasty
Retreat
Words
Pulse
Thrumming temples
Dread descends with every step
Upward to that door
Where home fires burn
Doorknob
Chill beneath palm
Hand lingers
Warming brass
As crass language
And rage harass
His tired dragging ass
Inhalation
Exhalation
Knob turning
Welcome
Home
Domestic Demons
What’s the fucking point?
Every conversation, something goes awry.
Some twisted phrase, a skewed perception.
Demons from distant pasts
Rise, shrieking from the dark,
Sinking bloody talons, venom coated fangs
Into every fleeting moment.
Tearing harmony, rending joy,
And leaving, in its wake…
exhaustion.
Leave Loyalty Unquestioned
Name me not Traitor
Because I hold different views
On our country’s course
From those beliefs held by you.
One of us must be
Horribly mistaken but
Question not my Allegiance!
Senryū 23 Mar 2016
Sharing common root,
bulb, stem, stalk, and leaf and yet,
we are not the same.
A Poet’s Lament
After running in place
for what seems like an age,
can’t I just lessen the pace
and scribble a word on this page?
Why must there always be work,
some urgently pressing demand,
a duty too vital to shirk
requiring my guiding hand?
Surely I will find some way
to invite my pen out to play
even if ending the day
I struggle for something to say!
In fact, it seems I’ve found time
to doodle this trivial rhyme.
Flying Ram
When the door is closed,
What better to batter with
Than a smoked turkey?
Aroil in Pain 