Sunday, February 17, 2019

waiting for democracy

waiting for democracy

there in the drain
through a hazy blow
a strike for freedom 
hands reach, slide
until through the 
muck and mire 
their message 
waves as a banner
they climb, for 
scraps, we reach
hands waiting as 
always – democracy

Monday, November 5, 2018

I have no poetry tonight... * (reflections on the eve of the PIttsburgh massacre)

I have no poetry tonight... *
(reflections on the eve of the PIttsburgh massacre) 

I have no poetry tonight for the life blood
spilled of the eleven souls at prayer -
I have no poetry tonight for the shopping
grandfather shot in the back of his head,
no poetry tonight for the murdered
grandmother in a parking lot -
All massacred for their "audacity" to draw
free and safe breath in the gust of fetid
toxic, lethal lunacy -
I have no poetry tonight for the hate-hand
that shook
the locked church door
I have no poetry tonight for envelopes of
destruction mailed to free thinkers
No, I have no poetry tonight for hatred, nor
intractable ignorance - Pretty words will
not warm the bodies now cold.
An explosion of poetic lyricism will not
bring forth another song, or shout, or sigh
from the dead.
Tonight, I save poetry for the spark of
humanity that flickers in the darkest
night and flames in brilliant conflagration
when united in common cause.
Tonight I save poetry for that bright
shining arc bending toward justice
....smelted in the white heat of our
collective outrage.
Tonight as tears choke -
I hold fast onto
the poetry of possibility...
Always and forever - light shall follow
It is our mandate to shine.

Thank you to Sherry Marr for tonight's Pittsburgh Poems - I am honored to be among the beautiful offerings of hope.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Day 4. PAD Challenge 2018 Case ---- "The Pleading Suitor"

The pleading suitor 
Little sister sits on the couch
the boyfriend now exed pauses
at the door – eyes wet – pleading
to her sister’s now gone back
“I don’t like the way you
walk, I don’t like the way
you talk, I don’t like you” 
and off she’d gone – leaving
a sparkly ring on the kitchen
table – 
Case Closed

Day 5. PAD Challenge 2018- Intelligence Poem


would be member of
the intelligentsia -
taken to mean that
longing to inhale
the NY Times in
its entirety long
before its sheets
could be held in
arms so small -
would be member
of that intelligentsia
dreaming of tall
windows and mantels
carpets on lemon
oiled floors and
people nodding
sagely exchanging
some of their all
as chamber music
murmured - moving
through time gathering
parchments one after
another and still the
intelligentsia shimmered
elusive as a Buckingham tea
as wisdom intrudes in gentle
pokes and prods and inner
nods - in marches and linked
arms and babies born and
suckled and lost and found
a united intelligenseea begins

Tuesday, January 2, 2018

There is something about a New Year...

There is something about a New Year ...
For all the excitement and anticipation of what is to come ...
for all the enchantment and grief and glory and embarrassment and pride and disappointment and ruts in the road and sweet grassy fields sprinkled with sweet daisies - for all the blue skies and dark storms for all the babies born and some inexplicably incomprehensibly lost - for all that we have come to understand and that we realize we have yet to learn - for all who have departed in all sorts of ways and all who have arrived both unexpectedly and awaited - for those on bended knee in prostrated plea or protest and those standing tall in resistance - for the burst of good health and the recognition of fragility - for all the loving, messy, pristine, powerful punch of life in the gut and tickle in the deepest part of heart, mind and soul. Embracing, recalling, archiving and releasing it all. Bon Voyage 2017 and Welcome to the wonders to come in 2018. To each and all of you my friends in all dimensions - may we summon the strength to cope and the courage to enjoy and the good sense to never conflate the two. Wishing all a happy, healthy, peaceful New Year - you mean more to me and to others than perhaps you know. With Kindness and Love..

Saturday, December 16, 2017

Stun Run

Stun Run 

I run - through broken time,
through this slippery shock
as the chain of legacy snaps.
I run - through broken time,
blind-sided, breathless - run
through sweet grass - runner
with a shard in her shoe a lock
on backwards, onwards doors -
I run - through broken time,
pierce the screen of never - into
Yes. Now – Heart jagged sliced with
a razored tongue tone-honed into in –
Different difference - I run - through
broken time, poignantly, pathetically,
gathering the shimmering shards of
yesterday - As though they could be
restored – I run through broken time –
back to when, then, I walked through
time, heart whole, head high, smiling  
certain, that only more of the same a-
waited over a trusted, beloved horizon...
and now, in the flickering light- I let the
shards fall where they may and 
rest, letting time 
run, as it always
has - on its own. 

Sunday, December 3, 2017

"Justice will roll down..."

"Justice will roll down ...."*

What is this thing called justice ?
ached and yearned for - believed
in as a manna'ed after life, be -
moaned as ever trampled - punishment 
or promise - a song that escapes from
parched souls - slaking or taunting thirst, 
this sound of penitence and pleading, 
collapsed in weary tear streams - a blessed
thank or outraged curse - a drive of wishes 
for of all that can be in a golden chariot of light - 
a wealthy child's party, ponies and spun sugar cake -
castles in the sky - or a fallen mud hut in fly buzzed
waste - This many faced thing - justice - 
grace notes cast,  voted each moment 
in the each and every by the each and 
every - as we stand together and apart 
all exist in the torrent spill or spray as this 
thing called justice rolls down ....or as ....
inexplicably wondrous as salmons upstream 
swim, somehow reaches up to push us all 
forward ... 
what is this thing 
called and calling 
justice ...

“But justice will roll down like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream” Amos 5:24,” Comey wrote on Twitter; he also cross-posted on Instagram.   

Sunday, November 12, 2017



From the films of sweet GI Joes handing out Hershey bars -
slogging through tides and finally opening the gates of Hell 
Onward through swirling years of foreign names 
memorized at school desks -that swelling sense that 
the only wars fought were those good wars against
bad guys -and then sorry - so very sorry for that
mushroom cloud that lit the sky and memory when
more brothers were called in a lottery with no purchase
necessary ... and the some who marched to defend and the others who stayed to defend - and all believed in the United States of America - one nation - though shakily indivisible... and back to films and guys with vacant eyes - and strange untold stories and not enough heroes welcomes but plenty of body-bags and counts on nightly news ... and marches there and here and - assassinations and soaring oratory - and hope and despair and change and then over... for a little while .. until here we are again...after towers fell and the new "normal" has become old hat - and still the Joes, and now Janes too, march off - now with pride though too often prompted by practicality - and the films are made in Hollywood - but no one's handing out Hershey bars. Now in this beginning gloaming of it all - ....a heroes salute for those who go so others can stay and write and pray to a Universe for a peace that will need no arms of steel to embrace us all. In honor of all...
One nation, indivisible with liberty and justice for ALL.
May we never forget the freedoms and ideals that all marched and fought, and bled and died and cried for....
We are ONE.

Sunday, October 15, 2017

Beyond the dearth

What possible pretense for the shock, jump- thump of heart hit – what possible pretense for the teeming, reaming, hulk of bulk, looming, zooming a re-route of sun sunk to deep shadow as you stand – Golemic-humanoid hypodermic huge in hand, my would-be-drip-drug of despair–destroying all that was – demolishing all that could come to be - casting a challenge to trust the simple certainty of a single next breath. What possible pretense for it all?
And so, in spite of all – I shut my eyes to your new-normal present, reach behind to the joy of the past, and inhale in great gulps of sweet air - the promised future-to-come. Beyond the dearth. 

Sunday, October 8, 2017



the storm has ravaged the emerald fringe 
that bracketed the road - now brown bare -
ripped red road seeks the sparkled harbor -
here, there, rise small  road- kill -lumps in 
mud frieze frozen in heat - this Pompeiian 
savage struggle - I stare in the after storm 
swirl -in the emptied eye of your  maliced
mystery - I struggle to sigh from the mud- 
once-manna-frangipani-paradise lush..lost 
the storm has ravished the emerald fringe 
that bracketed the road -my charge now to
power through and find the turquoise harbor 
still shining as North Star - in your soul as on
this sparkling surreal island holder of memory 
past - beauty that brought us to our knees - 
portent of all possibility for the future to come
then and only then in gratitude and hope can 
lift from the mud and live - 
until then I am but another 
bump of road kill flattened 
under it 
by it