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Sunday, September 3, 2017

Into The Mist

Into The Mist

Now is the moment to dive
into the mist as choppy vibes
plant specious spokes in that place
there - right under each nose
 Golem spectres marching bloody
soil soaking spill-spell - unless...
Now in this moment we dive
Into the mist of indifference
Into the mist of fear
and find the
fingers of light
shining on the
other side …
Now -
is your

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

The baby was named

The baby was named…

The baby was to be named
with enough tradition to
satisfy the hunger for legacy
The baby was to be named
for my father adored and
gone physically living in my
soul – this baby was going to
be named for him – with swirl
of a silver-threaded tallis and
a rabbi versed in modern ways
smiling in new traditions and
assembled love – the baby was
named –in his home - echoes-
 proud, persistent, prevailing - 
footsteps of those who climbed
Massada, walked to gas chambers
marched for civil rights so that this
day and this child could be born and
be named – this child born into a new
world –where too often respect lays tossed
on a trash-heap of indifference, this newborn
of caring, of love, of tradition, of reverence
for a man, for decency, for sanctity of all life
the baby was named with the name
meaning “lion” and in the twinkle of
this innocent’s infant eyes I watched
the world roar in triumphant survival

and hope

This poem written in response to Midweek Motif's theme of "respect" at Poets United. ... 

Sunday, August 27, 2017



I list, hammer in hand pummeled
by the winds blown on the shores 
of convergence, the stench of rancid 
wretched refuse rotting burns my eyes - 
gusts gale across rivers, hatred unburied 
sends swollen bodies gangrened and 
grinning tumbling from this desperate 
dump of demonism - and I hesitate for
but a nanosecond - until I stand -straight
and swing - hard - the crack of my own
forehead satisfying as optical nerve 
hemorrhages and finally, finally -    
once more all turns rosy again - 
as I stand on the sun fingered 
shore and protect in the only 
way I see possible - my vision 
as into the epic frame of future 
 bloodied hammer in hand fall -
before it is too late to 

Sunday, August 20, 2017

Finally Getting Some


Finally Getting Some Understanding

Meet me in the sad statues'  park ...
throw me over the back of Lees horse
fuck me with facts - hard until our own hoods
fly from our eyes and our vision blazes unrestricted
fuck me to the core until our unknown lies loose and 
scream free - bucking left and right and in between -
fuck me until we melt steel to stability, smelt chaos to calm - 
Oh yes, fuck me founding fathers until panting-sighing tears
streaming in understanding we rise - finally together in naked 
glory - free at last -free at last - sweat slicked, one nation,atoned, 
attuned, with liberty and justice for all..watching from our perfecting 
hill as the nascent evil orange of torches flicker out over a new horizon 
and a new dawn fingers the very sky in light ....

The Sunday Whirl

Sunday, August 6, 2017

Simmer until done

147 best images

Simmer until done…

Under the surface of the simmered –
chains clank – despite who won what –
chains clank –color bleeds from each
and every pounding throat – and still
the acorn nut grows into an oak tree
year after year – tree after tree - until
as filigreed leaves dance in the sunshine
comes a punch to the throat – a blazing
label of hate no longer hidden - matter
coalescing into a wave of contortion
uncapped, unrestrained, unashamed.
Under the surface of the simmered
The bulging aneurysm of anguish shall
burst into that star spangled banner
waved high and proud and claimed
in a consensus of conscience
finally cooked and ready to serve

Sunday, July 30, 2017

Somewhere a baby wakes

Somewhere a baby wakes

stretches arms to the sky

blood speckled with flecks
of my dna and spirit
I cannot hold nor see him 
separated by barriers of 
hatred and indifference
Somewhere a baby wakes
and though I cannot hold 
nor see him – I feel him 
running in the fragrant grass
of an endless spirit savannah
sliding through my veins he 
or she laughing in the curve
of my arms – our eyes shimmer 
hearts pulse together -
Somewhere a baby wakes 
stretches arms to sky and
souls meet



I sail a sliver of a silver boat
canvas snapping round the bend
heat and wind follow in my wake as
I sail a sliver of a silver boat
I avoid the arc of surrender –
scan the horizon for helpmates
but in the end in a splendid splash
of archaic modernism I bend to the
curve of the slap of the sail around
the bend of this spinning marble and
pick up my single stitch of shine – my
tiny trip in this colossal sea as I sail
my sliver of a silver boat – alone the
scent of frangipani, futility and hope
pushing me onward … ever onward 
I sail my sliver 

The Sunday Whirl

Sunday, June 25, 2017

Never Enough*

Never Enough*

Ah to return to that drunk besotted joy - 
anticipation actualized as you, new babe lay
a moment in the curve of my arms.  I stood 
rooted to this earth in sheer wonder
of the blessed now – in a blink, 
sly eye of the Universe, spun-snatch-
melted you to poetry manifested
words - Yet, each poem could be
torn and pieces flung to the wind , 
to drift dust- tattered when compared 
to the suddenly born actuality of 
the flutter of your newborn lash -
perfect and inscribed forever – The
soft weight of your reality remains –
echo of all that can be – in a future
as yet unwritten – For now – my soul
soared, seared and ever yours – 
always and a day ....and you sheer poetry 
begun in an eight plus pound package 
of joy everlasting 
growing, glowing 
stretching, cooing 
on ...

*one can never get quite enough of the miracle and magic of a new baby
dedicated to my new grandson Austin