Merry-Go-Round
12/1/98
I chased you on the merry-go-round,
on horses shuddering up and down.
When it stopped , the laughing clown
was squirting water all around.
Stumbling through the hall of mirrors,
faces float, then disappear
without a sound, or trace of where
the owners or reflections are.
Come sample all the sweet illusions
in this palace of confusion,
where truth and lie are one infusion,
fact and fantasy are in union.
My makeup is a thin disguise
I wear to shield me from your eyes,
but it carries its own price:
I am illusion to my eyes!
But we forget on the merry-go-round,
on horses shuddering up and down.
The chase is all! We go around
until we tumble to the ground!
Misery
12/10/98
Things can happen
even going home ways you walked before,
even on the porch right outside your door
and things keep happening more and more!
Did you ever hear the screech
of tires in the street
and you're afraid to look,
cause of everyone you know?
Do you think you can hide
just by staying inside,
leave the world out there to strangers,
and all the dangers?
Ha! If you really did care
you would be out there,
so don't weep to me
of your misery.
I've looked down the barrel of a gun,
brushed death while I was still young,
but I also remember
young days in September,
playing in leaves
with no fear, no unease.
And we all were outside,
neighbors side-by-side
and community
seemed like family:
now where did we
stray so differently?
Flickering Light*
12/3/98
When the light flickers out
and the darkness closes round
there will still be memories--
we will have our memories.
The day's light and laughing
children playing ball,
the wee ones tucked warm
against the winter storm:
kaleidoscoping pictures
rushing through our minds
bring tears of joy, of hope,
yet somewhat sad. It is
an end and a beginning,
the darkness ringing round.
There is hope
when the light flickers out.
There will still be memories--
we will have our memories!
*for MysteryLady and her nephew
Prof
11/18/98
With scientific care proceeding,
stained frock coat and hair receding,
the young old man sits, then he paces,
eyes alight, while his mind races.
He knows that his discovery
will be the next to set man free
and profit will be guaranteed,
for everyone will want to see.
So he came from his laboratory
extraordinary, to breathe the air a try.
He announced he had found the key
to eliminate all misery.
He held a powder in a vial,
held a power so, so vital,
it seemed the seed of living dream,
the destiny to which we strain.
In his hand the vial gleamed,
through his head the visions streamed
and in his mind he was a king
newly crowned, about to reign.
The flasks around his laboratory
trumpeted his royalty:
it was so evident to see
he was reborn to be a king!
The beakers bowed with curling lips,
the scales tipped as if to slip,
the faucets stopped, without a drip:
just one burner remained lit.
The lab enshrined his majesty,
his mastery of chemistry,
an altar to discovery,
testing ground for inquiry.
Now each night
he'll close his eyes and see the stars
write his name across the sky.
Memory
will come to life:
he'll be alive,
he will arrive.
Trouble with Teacher
10/20/98
Now the teacher's not talking.
He's looking at you
and you suddenly wish that
you weren't in school!
Your mind has been flying
far and away--
now everyone's waiting
for what you will say!
Now what can you answer,
your face growing red--
whatever the question,
you feel you're dead.
You try to act thoughtful,
try to act cool--
don't let them pin you
with questions in school.
You say you are thinking
and now everyone knows:
he asks someone else to
pull the window closed.
The Shadow of a Smile
10/6/98
The shadow of a smile
across
your lips,
the flicker in your eyes
can bring
me bliss.
I don't know how we came to be:
that will always be a mystery,
but I never want to be free
of the shadow of your smile.
The melody of notes
that frame
your voice,
draw me back to you--
I have
no choice!
You've raptured me into your spell,
beyond the scope that words can tell,
and I am so glad that I fell
in the shadow of your smile!
Your presence in a room
ignites
a light,
and all eyes turn to you:
you burn
so bright!
You always seem to light a star,
inspire hope to reach so far.
It's just a part of who you are.
Oh! The shadow of your smile!
Lisa
9/27/98
Your words are ripples,
shadows of your thoughts,
brushstrokes dabbing
beauty through my mind.
We hold electric contact
arcing through miles
siphoning electricity
from the great machine.
You speak to me
of love and passion,
generations
yet unborn.
Then we share dreams,
create magic,
man and woman
becoming one.
How do we dare,
gnats in this universe,
to so proclaim
such mighty thoughts!
I offer hand
and you step out
so trusting,
entering the dance.
Soon we are
swept away.
The Shaking Spoon
9/24/98
The nightmare froth in shaking spoon
held over twisted matchstick
is boiling from the cities
toward children pinned
behind their shreiking parents.
The white distills to clear,
liquid drawn in fear
the first time. (thought)
I will never
be the same
marks the end
of childhood,
freedom,
maybe life
as another shining star
is lost in cloud.
Empty
These empty rooms are sad
echoes of a presence gone,
and there is no other tread
counterbeating mine upon
the silent floors. The clicks
of plaster echo and
resound the house, its
aged heartbeat. One man
goes on, another gone
into
an empty room.
Energies
12/10/97
We are eneregies in communion:
you the whirling vortex
pulling my exploding sun.
Unbound we are
passing through each other,
I pierce your many veils,
I see your seething heart
and we progress toward eruption.
I am but a robot man
strung with electric nerves:
the life is in their pulses
and I wonder if the real
is inside/outside/not at all
illusion or a joke.
It would be sad
all this energy into nothing
after we explode!
So I savor
all my time
with you.
EPISODE 6
4/2/96
I know it isn't proper
and it does not make sense
but I feel I have to tell you
before I lose the nerve.
We meet so properly
there is no time to look, or peek
behind our makeup shells.
What happened to our selves?
In memory,
I ride my grumbling motorcycle,
blue and grey mounting black and chrome,
pavement flowing light as air,
below,
your arms strapping my waist.
The air pours
and presses our eyes,
drawing occasional tears?
Right hand, tach and foot
dance the gears,
teamwork pinching roar to whine:
we slip untouched
through flowing cars, bursting lights,
serenaded by resonators underfoot.
Clear the crowding
streets.
Break through to
the six lane,
enchanted carpet to otherwhere.
I know I have grown,
horsepower in my hand, right,
restraining, left.
Emerge from traffic,
then tumble in grass,
breathing meadow smells.
The dew
draws a single hair
wantonly on your forehead.
I cannot speak, I
touch your cheek
and you understand.
Picnic tools unused,
jutting from the pack
over there.
Movement is an illusion.
We are zen:
the universe stops.
We are rolling in grass,
with childrens' laughter.
Sudden contemplation;
our lips touch and shiver.
The stream sweeps away
vain attempts to hide
the fears,
the needs that brought us here:
we touch, we turn to face
Feel of Road
Live an auto embrace of steel
and you're never sure what's real--
the only thing sure is the end of the road:
the things that change are speed and the load!
You can blow dust and burn this lane,
head on fire and feet in pain,
no looking back to where you've been--
you can never be there again!
Blind in the fast track
pulling hard against load,
look back down your track
to get the feel of road.
You can take the future like enemy
camp, barrels blazing free,
see your mates laid out with care
and feel so empty there!
You can burn in the fast track
and it really doesn't matter why,
strung like meat on flat rack
for another man to buy!
I'm blind in the fast track
pulling hard against load,
looking back down my track
to get the feel of road.
Flowerflow
3/31/98
Flowers gushing in the meadow,
gold sails blow amid whitecaps,
rushing stream stirred wind blow,
rippling like lake perhaps.
In youth we ran into this sea,
plunged and savored its sweet scent.
Now we watch, long to break free,
pursue again the ways we went!
Haiku
The sun adrift 3/9/98
the clouds beside
steaming, streaming.
Raise!
Little words 3/10/98
shining bright,
quiet lanterns
in the night.
We hang, dewdrops on petal 3/17/98
of a flower in the night,
knowing morning will bring peril,
but this moment is delight!
He's Gone
6/24/97
He's gone, now
yet his work remains
unfinished
it is
We are nomads wandering
room to room
between homes
from life to life
We change jobs
like shedding clothes
and lives are cast aside
to start anew
Will there be peace
in distant time
will we set
aside these shoes?
Hunter
Dawn breeaks against clouds
clustered on horizon:
it is winter in
the land of seasons.
the cheerful blue
does not deceive life below:
stalks set in mini-teepees
awaiting call to arms.
shapes will soon
lumber the land, assault
field via trenching-tool:
can't fool the land, man!
it's waiting.
Images
Strange music in my head
turns the day from grey to red,
and the people in the street
suddenly are staged to meet.
Nerves scramble electric vines,
painting patterns of our time
to place an image in a head
to turn the day from grey to red.
Inner Soldier
Dawn awakes the shivered soldier
in the field dewing over
and the silence counts his number
as he stiffly moves, remembers.
Day begins: sun grows against the rim
of the sea turned sky splashing against the eye.
Here I am, back on my knees again
thinking of yesterday, but that's so far away
I never can return.
I long for sunset and for comfort
of a night of fitful slumber.
It isn't cold as last December,
or other times that I remember.
I could be a man, leader of all this land,
holding a destiny endless ahead of me.
But now I wear shame--a coat cold as the rain,
and curse the morning light bringing me back to sight:
I always must return.
Trapped in my dishonor
I struggle on, forever,
a warrior chained and harnessed
by the bonds of his own promise.
A warrior downed, dropped in a combat zone,
I held the world at bay til my last chance was played.
This man has ceased to feel trapped in a world of steel:
in silence he slipped away to darkness eluding day--
will he yet return?
Irony
11/17/96
looking out between the bars
confined by walls self built
by word, deed, thought
not thinking
what devious design
led here
defined by freedom
we can reinterpret
in random ways
or in and through design
the wage is nothing
less than the price
of failure
defined by past
we can be objects
free of demand
huddled in retreat
but it is easy
to surrender
stop the dreaming
and sleep
stop looking out
between the bars
I Wait for You
11/27/97
I wait for you again,
crouching in my mind,
relishing thoughts of lust,
appetites divine!
As you approach
I reach, extend
and, touching,
savor our connection.
We intercourse
in terms polite
denying heat
while burning bright!
I yearn to learn
your contours and passion,
your manner, your fashion,
the colors you're flashing.
Let me approach,
draw you near,
surprise you with my touch,
taste you in many senses,
wonder how I lived
without knowing you.
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