Thursday, August 29, 2013

Dance Me to the Edge of the Moon

Dance Me to the Edge of the Moon

Calypso to the edge of the moon,
                    (Crickets' cryptic drumbeat tune)
Dance me to the edge of the moon.

Dance the rapid banging beat
                    (Thrust and bite of all belief)
Turn me to the banging beat.

Turn the climb into the dance 
                    (Darkened precipice of chance)
Make me see the climb as dance.

Calypso to the edge of the moon,
                     (Leverage the bite of doom)
And dance me to the edge of the moon.

Friday, August 16, 2013

Begins and Ends in Dust


Begins and Ends in Dust

This is the door
I stand before:
The entry, ivy and rust,

Hinge that groans,
Wood that moans,
Step that is covered in dust.

This is the door
I stand before:
Heart that stills with trust,

Body that groans,
Mouth that moans,
Hands that are speckled with rust.

This is the way
I go today:
The way that all men must.

Friday, August 9, 2013

Lorem Ipsum

Lorem Ipsum

I just noticed
how the  lighted screen
looks ripped across the top
like the mini yellow pads
that clutter and stack a desk --

to dos and dones, calls recorded
calls returned, hand-drawn charts,
the stuff of later talks,
pages ripped,  discarded
starts and stops.

The keys along the bottom
click away as if something really
is depressed and strikes.
How like a life this screen,
bright as the eyes can take,
yet cold and flat and final
as the hand that hits delete 
but does not think to save.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

When the lights went out

When the lights went out

And the winds blew hard, harder
Than Appalachian summer ever sees,
And the children ran dripping to the house
While Poppy held then gave the umbrella
To the yard, family and guests --
Fourteen in all, gathered beneath the stairs,
Children up and down like popping corn,
The littlest one cried mommy, mommy, mommy,
Who was somewhere, later learned,
Moving trees that blocked the road,
Unable to go forward or go back.
When the  winds died down
And the sky cleared off as if it never raged,
And the damage was surveyed,
And neighbors came together for a change
To tell their various stories (all the same),
The children gathered pool toys from the yard,
The men, the bent umbrella from the tree,
And the eerie sound of no electricity --
The lack of sound, gave life a different sound,
Pure and clear, the sound of feet and breath,
The sound of living on and living through,
The littlest gathered candles for the dark
And built a tale to tell again, again, again
As the power hums, of the fun we had 
when the winds blew hard on the day the lights went out.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Still, the clock

Still, the  clock:
Back and forth
Settled, regular, like the heart.
Staccato notes
Dum dee, dum dee, dum dee
Patterned background chatter
Morning song that fades
With the scrape of shoes