Wednesday, April 24, 2013

What It Is

What It Is

Mornings, at the bus stop,
This one stands scraggly haired, and apart.
Solitary, sour at seven a.m.,

And I think, why not?
Poor thing, you're an American teen
Who has everything.

I'd like to hook my fingers
Through the holes in your jeans,
And plop you down in Kenya,

Where Awiti, just your age, sends one child
To the school that cannot meet
When it rains.

Or we could go to some war-torn land,
Or Haiti's slums...
But really, baby,

Everything is relative.
It is what it is, you stoically say,
Enduring your four bedroom life.

Your hundred dollar jeans
Are as full of misery
As the dust that settles

On the back of the boney cow
Herded through the dirt
By an African child.

Thursday, April 18, 2013

Lines Written Upon Feeling a Warm Breeze on My Face for the First Time This Spring

Don't put me in the Narrow Bed
When at last I lay my head...

If dust -- as chimney sweepers must--
Then in the air my mettle rust --

The wind to blow upon the bones
A melody of cheerful tones,

The sun to warm a cooling heart...

For worm and grub and bug and crow...

For Pete's sake, better lay me low!

Pickle and stuff my empty shell --
Just save me from the maggot's hell!

This started out as serious thought, but even I recognize how bad it was, so...voila: Compost Tea (of me).

Happy Poem in Your Pocket Day!

Saturday, April 6, 2013

D is for

D Is for Dawn

Aurora mixing pigments,
Titanium, cobalt, ivory black.

Coattails of the night,
Pulling possibility
Like a banner.

Revelation: Tree come into Leaf,
Mountain against Sky.

It is forgiveness and redemption,
Scattered second chances
Like the stars.

Thursday, April 4, 2013

C is

C is

The worm in the apple,
A poison blooming,
Anchored, spreading roots.
I am become Amazon,
Shooting down the fruit.

Prune this garden;

Slice and shrink,
Burn everything away!
Burn the worm from his house.
Burn all except the wood
And the spirit of the wood.

Leave the spirit of the wood
For future fire.

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

B is for

B is for

The way light
Changes as it
Filters through the glass,
Entering a hard beam
And leaving a scattered
Sparkle of delight,
The way you fold me,
Knees tucked into knees,
Elbow cradled
Rib and hip,
The way I crook my arms,
Bend my head and croon.

Monday, April 1, 2013

A is for

A is for

Low hanging, ripe
Congregation of seeds,
Pulp and skin.
Maligned, medicinal,
Sultry, drowsy
Sticky nectar, rolling
At the feet of the gods.