Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Once Again

Earth spins
once again
sun rises
so I think
inside my head
a rooster crows
from long ago
memories rise
as I wake
to begin again
to construct
another day
from my collection
of days
when wonder and
all I had.

Tuesday, November 29, 2011

To Be or Not To Be

A tree is a tree 
and by being a tree 
it shouts 
to the universe
a tree I am
just so. 

But you and me
can we be
like the tree
just so
or need we be
one a tiger
a lamb
all because
we chose
to be
or not 
to be?

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The Porch

Giving thanks
for a chair
to sit and stare
at the stars
from the porch
for a time
and to listen
to words 
and to share 
my say
and at times 
with memories of
youthful zeal
the kind that
blind the eyes
to all but one's
own rhapsody
yet to some ears
much too much
so they say.

The Table Saw

The table saw
had no safety features
just an on-off switch
and rising from the steel bed
a whirling steel-toothed blade
that divided the pine boards
as fast as I could
feed the hungry blade
saw dust filling the air
with smells of a pine
and as a young lad
that was enough.

Thursday, November 24, 2011


Happy trails 
to you
as rivers course
seeking home
we forever choose
the right way
to return home
where we all
meet on shores
waves lap
to midnight
ebb and flo
stars overhead
never change
by candlelight
we feast
and call
this place

Monday, November 21, 2011

The Useless Tree

It seemed a useless tree
a stump rooted
for countless years
firmly to the earth
yet now a safe haven
for rootless insects
inside and out
that if they could speak
would call
this former home
to eagles and owls
and raccoons
and once a robin
and always rustling leaves
of greens and golds
their own.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011


It was tall
taller than me
the sunflower
petals were no more
and half the seeds
gone too
the head hanging
as if weary
of all those
summer days
following the sun
yellow petals
before blue sky
no more.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Cell Phone to Ear

The next best thing
to experience
are symbols
that recreate
that can be 
thought of
symbols flowing
from out fingertips
a quill pen and jet
black ink
an imagined keyboard
glowing on a glass faced
a finger drawing
in the sand
sounds uttered
from evolved
vocal cords
that come to life
in ears
that hunger for
symbolic sounds
that waiting
understand and
bring to life
inside heads
that are forever
out of symbols
in the dark.

Wednesday, November 09, 2011


It was evident that
he came this way
the footprints cast 
in dried clay
stride across the
dried riverbed
to the stand of
green fluttering
leaves in the breeze
that today shaded
bleached bones
of what appeared
to be
a dog.

Monday, November 07, 2011

Army days

What was I doing 
in the motor pool?
Paying a debt
for goofing off?
The clipboard in hand
nosing beneath
the huge truck hood of 
the olive drab 
yet I inspected yesterday
so I checked the tiny boxes
on the clipboard sheet
now seated behind the wheel
with time now to spare
until the captain came
making a beeline to 
my assigned vehicle
now clipboard 
in his hand
he inspected 
the tiny check marks
tiny frauds resting 
in tiny boxes
for oil unchecked
battery unchecked
water unchecked
a deuce-and-a-half
and he shouted
"bull shit!"
to which I found myself
in that motor pool
for another week
at the breaking
of seven Korean dawns
inspecting a row
of deuce-and-a-halfs
with greasy hands
in cold silence.

Tuesday, November 01, 2011

Every Moment

Every moment 
can be sacred
the gift of life 
oh so overwhelming 
that in wakeful 
one can be moved 
to tears 
by what God 
has made us 
a part of. 

Are we yet