Indifference (August 2013)

The Universe gave me a mirror
through which to see the dark side of myself:

My seeming indifference towards others with whom I connect
Deep love for the One that is all things together

But oblivious to the beauty of its microcosms
Sincere myself in the energy shared

but stretched like fabric across too much space
between multitudes whom I inspire

Electric trans-incarnation connections
razzle-dazzle for the spirit and soul

flit across my life
like raisins in cereal

each wanting to be savoured
while devoured en masse

I the once eater
find myself now digested

poop in a can
writing to feel better

A poem for Sondra (May 2005)

A Firecracker of a human being
threatening to knock out
the lights
with her hips
every time she crosses a room
A one-woman laugh machine
processing grist
from cruel, painful, unfair losses
to bake loaves of light-hearted giggling
and wisdom to vault misfortune
the right or wrong comment will swell
her bright eyes even larger
a smile sweet enough to flavor coffee and cakes
gone in place of a stare
strong enough to bore through rock
Her head can waggle
as if on a spring
long arms and legs constantly convulse
sinew shifting like wild beast
trapped between her and her skin
words fly from her mouth
like cracks from a whip
her will manifested in language
daredevil escapades escape adventure
massage her chiseled face into a grin

Beyond walls (May 2005)

Is a university
of life
in which there is no degree

inexplicable to one
who is not explored it
as unassailably addictive
as heroin

increasingly unfortunately
replaced by the
methadone of

The agents are coming (April 2009)

Revere rode through the streets
to raise alarm
at threats to our liberty
far less severe than these

The crisis does not lie off in the future,
nor from any foreign power.
Our republic withers under an assault from within,
our leaders betraying their oaths of allegiance

to the Constitution and Bill of Rights that defend us.
This is no time for blind fealty to personalities
or fixation on sports or fashion.

“The agents are coming,”
and do not follow
our laws.

This is a call
for all hands
on deck

all able minded people
are needed on the front.
We beseech you

to stand and defend
the Republic
until your throat grows hoarse
and your pen runs dry.

We did not win the Cold War
only to become East Germany.

Let not
freedom die
on your watch.

Tragedies of Blessings (December 1997)

What was always good
enough for everyone,
ever since the beginning,
can’t now be enough
to make me content.

An inmate, released,
with a job and good friends,
has more reasons to smile
than he’s ever wished for.

Aborigines gifted
with the magic of trains,
or the wonderful aid of antibiotics,
praise creation as I never could.

My hands have never harvested grain.
The skin is smooth, and supple, and soft,
but leaves me thinking that farming is hell.

Technology’s wonder is a boon to us all,
but is wasted on those who know nothing else.
My hands are soft because I have been fed…

…but now that I can’t ever feed myself,
being fed isn’t enough.

Beyond the Maryland Shore (October 2010)

we are
all water
our way
down a slope
winding through

we are
all water
our way
down a slope
winding through
racing over
each other
is the transition
at the end
on the beach
finally rejoining
our Self

Nihilism (March 2000)

The air hangs thick
like mucous
stuck in my throat

Bottles rattle
blown down the street
chased by newspapers

children cigarette
butts and the last
dying hopes

of a species bent
on its own