Goodbyes
A staked sign
declaring
Saturday
Noon to 6.
Piles,
strewn on the green lawn.
Stacks of hard bound books,
housing giants, wolves, and talking eggs.
A G.I. Joe.
The standard, rusted red wagon.
A headless Superman doll.
Bundles of baseball cards.
One drum stick.
Volcanic rocks.
A dried insect collection.
Hockey helmets.
Dented yellow Tonka trucks.
A purple hula hoop.
The remains of a chemistry set.
Crowds rummaged through his childhood,
examining,
evaluating,
pinning a price on his past,
as he carried over his adolescence
in a box of LP's.
A staked sign
declaring
Saturday
Noon to 6.
Piles,
strewn on the green lawn.
Stacks of hard bound books,
housing giants, wolves, and talking eggs.
A G.I. Joe.
The standard, rusted red wagon.
A headless Superman doll.
Bundles of baseball cards.
One drum stick.
Volcanic rocks.
A dried insect collection.
Hockey helmets.
Dented yellow Tonka trucks.
A purple hula hoop.
The remains of a chemistry set.
Crowds rummaged through his childhood,
examining,
evaluating,
pinning a price on his past,
as he carried over his adolescence
in a box of LP's.
Sandcastles
After a day at the beach,
the family wagon plods
down the highway home.
In the back seat
a little boy barricades himself
in a beach blanket
Things need to be thought.
His hand clings to a corroding brown shovel
whose pail has been discarded – rust rot.
It seems time totals buckets
And oceans overrun sandcastles.
something must last.
If his pail held together today –
a different outcome.
Of course, castle builders must carry buckets.
He needs a new pail
to wall sand against the sea
to stop it.
Downcast, he remembers
oceans never run out of waves.
He begins drifting into sleep.
Oceans would always threaten his castles.
But, he would build them anyway.
After a day at the beach,
the family wagon plods
down the highway home.
In the back seat
a little boy barricades himself
in a beach blanket
Things need to be thought.
His hand clings to a corroding brown shovel
whose pail has been discarded – rust rot.
It seems time totals buckets
And oceans overrun sandcastles.
something must last.
If his pail held together today –
a different outcome.
Of course, castle builders must carry buckets.
He needs a new pail
to wall sand against the sea
to stop it.
Downcast, he remembers
oceans never run out of waves.
He begins drifting into sleep.
Oceans would always threaten his castles.
But, he would build them anyway.
Stress
The old oak creaked:
complaining again about
the coarse rope and worn, gray tire
hanging, hanging, hanging
Years ago,
it began,
bound around
the noose
the knot
the pulling
A thousand rides.
yanking
down.
. . .
Fat boy hoists himself up,
hands shellacked
in red raspberry ice cream
tire tight around his gut.
Tree trembles.
Crack, smack, hard ground.
Nothing holds forever.
The big boy cries.
The tree sighs.
The old oak creaked:
complaining again about
the coarse rope and worn, gray tire
hanging, hanging, hanging
Years ago,
it began,
bound around
the noose
the knot
the pulling
A thousand rides.
yanking
down.
. . .
Fat boy hoists himself up,
hands shellacked
in red raspberry ice cream
tire tight around his gut.
Tree trembles.
Crack, smack, hard ground.
Nothing holds forever.
The big boy cries.
The tree sighs.
Circle of Strife
One-eyed crow
grips rusted rim
of trash can
cawing, “Junk’n treasure.”
Flies eye him cautiously
as they dive in and out
of crumbs and spoils.
A black wing
slaps them away
“It’s mine.”
They swarm back
buzzing
“We’ll see.”
After staggering out
from behind
a barkless
beech,
a rabid red fox
crashes into the can
barking,
“Time to go crow!”
At the Beech buffet,
white termites
dine
boring
and boring.
nature’s drill bits
gorging on saw dust.
White and black woodpecker
taps, “I’ve got mine.”
As a high flying hawk,
makes ready
his beak.
One-eyed crow
grips rusted rim
of trash can
cawing, “Junk’n treasure.”
Flies eye him cautiously
as they dive in and out
of crumbs and spoils.
A black wing
slaps them away
“It’s mine.”
They swarm back
buzzing
“We’ll see.”
After staggering out
from behind
a barkless
beech,
a rabid red fox
crashes into the can
barking,
“Time to go crow!”
At the Beech buffet,
white termites
dine
boring
and boring.
nature’s drill bits
gorging on saw dust.
White and black woodpecker
taps, “I’ve got mine.”
As a high flying hawk,
makes ready
his beak.
Witch Switch
Another therapy appointment
One more good report
I’ll be out
Black cauldron
boiling and bubbling
toiling and troubling
Keep answering right -
No dark, just light.
“Oh, I’m very happy today.
The sun is out.
Children at play.”
I feel fairly gnawed.
My mind must conceal
a delicious garden of
Gingerbread boys,
Chocolate girls,
My sweet tooth.
No spells, everthing’s swell.
Double, double.
Don’t start trouble.
“Oh, I’d kill to volunteer
at the elementary school.
I love children to death.”
Pretending to be so sensitive.
gets in my hair
spoils my wickedness
such an irritant
to an abnormal mind.
“Yes, one more session. Delightful.”
I want to scream:
“I’ll turn you into a toad
the next full moon!”
But instead I say, “Goodbye.
See you again soon”
When I get out for good,
it will be a pleasure to creep around
as I please.
Another therapy appointment
One more good report
I’ll be out
Black cauldron
boiling and bubbling
toiling and troubling
Keep answering right -
No dark, just light.
“Oh, I’m very happy today.
The sun is out.
Children at play.”
I feel fairly gnawed.
My mind must conceal
a delicious garden of
Gingerbread boys,
Chocolate girls,
My sweet tooth.
No spells, everthing’s swell.
Double, double.
Don’t start trouble.
“Oh, I’d kill to volunteer
at the elementary school.
I love children to death.”
Pretending to be so sensitive.
gets in my hair
spoils my wickedness
such an irritant
to an abnormal mind.
“Yes, one more session. Delightful.”
I want to scream:
“I’ll turn you into a toad
the next full moon!”
But instead I say, “Goodbye.
See you again soon”
When I get out for good,
it will be a pleasure to creep around
as I please.
Slabs of Slate
The discovery of the century
a four year-old archaeologist's
Tyrannosaurus' tooth.
Plenty of room
dinner delivered from above
an ant's fine patio.
The caster of ripples
a troubled man's
skipping stone.
The Paris runway
for a red coated
black spotted lady bug.
The hum
interrupted
a lawnmower's Frisbee.
Remnants of a shattered empire
a piece of pillar
from Atlantis.
Off aim
the spiderwebber
of window panes.
Out of the roadbed
a refugee
of a Cape Cod driveway.
Released with consequence
sling shot fodder
a descendant of Goliath's demise.
The thing
at the bottom
of the well.
A wind whistler
snapped shaft
the arrow head.
The final stone in the collection,
dull gray
no jewel
nonetheless, an essential marker.
The discovery of the century
a four year-old archaeologist's
Tyrannosaurus' tooth.
Plenty of room
dinner delivered from above
an ant's fine patio.
The caster of ripples
a troubled man's
skipping stone.
The Paris runway
for a red coated
black spotted lady bug.
The hum
interrupted
a lawnmower's Frisbee.
Remnants of a shattered empire
a piece of pillar
from Atlantis.
Off aim
the spiderwebber
of window panes.
Out of the roadbed
a refugee
of a Cape Cod driveway.
Released with consequence
sling shot fodder
a descendant of Goliath's demise.
The thing
at the bottom
of the well.
A wind whistler
snapped shaft
the arrow head.
The final stone in the collection,
dull gray
no jewel
nonetheless, an essential marker.
Concealed
Blinding blizzard
The city-
it's gone.
Covered by
white feathers
from the sky
or gobs of
wet white spray paint
- depends on your mood
Golem and the Cat
The Madhatter’s tea table
Apple trees
Cellar doors
Colorful Koi
Stuff we bought
your footsteps when you left.
All buried.
But not your digital dalliance
glowing on the phone
burned into
my head.
Blinding blizzard
The city-
it's gone.
Covered by
white feathers
from the sky
or gobs of
wet white spray paint
- depends on your mood
Golem and the Cat
The Madhatter’s tea table
Apple trees
Cellar doors
Colorful Koi
Stuff we bought
your footsteps when you left.
All buried.
But not your digital dalliance
glowing on the phone
burned into
my head.
I Remember
I remember having the time to do whatever I wanted.
I remember when Saturday morning cartoons were decent.
I remember my first kiss in second grade;
even hiding under the table, the girl still got me.
I remember my biggest responsibility
having to be home for supper when my mother called.
I remember eating what was on my plate.
I remember lots of laughs.
I remember when telling the whole truth was smarter
than telling part of the truth.
I remember when my imagination was not confined.
I remember the yellow sun and the dim shadows.
I remember a few people spoil it for everybody.
I remember growing up.
I remember not saying things that I should have.
I remember saying too much.
I remember when I didn't care.
I remember when I cared too much.
I remember a lot of people for no reason.
I remember too few people that I should sometimes.
I remember guarantees.
I remember people telling me to let things go.
I remember that I was going to take the time.
I remember the dead.
I remember.
I remember having the time to do whatever I wanted.
I remember when Saturday morning cartoons were decent.
I remember my first kiss in second grade;
even hiding under the table, the girl still got me.
I remember my biggest responsibility
having to be home for supper when my mother called.
I remember eating what was on my plate.
I remember lots of laughs.
I remember when telling the whole truth was smarter
than telling part of the truth.
I remember when my imagination was not confined.
I remember the yellow sun and the dim shadows.
I remember a few people spoil it for everybody.
I remember growing up.
I remember not saying things that I should have.
I remember saying too much.
I remember when I didn't care.
I remember when I cared too much.
I remember a lot of people for no reason.
I remember too few people that I should sometimes.
I remember guarantees.
I remember people telling me to let things go.
I remember that I was going to take the time.
I remember the dead.
I remember.
Desolation of Memory
An animated dark, stone, vulture,
blurred my view,
talons tearing at the searing soot surface
of the inland beach.
No worms here.
The gray tide choked with ashes spews forth,
hardly distinguishable from the sky of
chimney vomit.
Haunted hulks, the guts of ships,
beginnings and ends,
disintegrate on the horizon.
Collapsing cottages on the shore, deserted, burnt-out.
Brittle skeletons, outlines being forgotten.
Lots of things broken, lots of things lost.
The shard blades of deep, black rocks
crown this cove,
like the bottom row of chipped, decaying teeth
on a broken jaw bone -
warning the green, blue ocean of memory
to limit its vastness.
You are the white fog passing through.
You can't talk even in your mind.
These things are done.
No one need go here, but you will sometimes.
An animated dark, stone, vulture,
blurred my view,
talons tearing at the searing soot surface
of the inland beach.
No worms here.
The gray tide choked with ashes spews forth,
hardly distinguishable from the sky of
chimney vomit.
Haunted hulks, the guts of ships,
beginnings and ends,
disintegrate on the horizon.
Collapsing cottages on the shore, deserted, burnt-out.
Brittle skeletons, outlines being forgotten.
Lots of things broken, lots of things lost.
The shard blades of deep, black rocks
crown this cove,
like the bottom row of chipped, decaying teeth
on a broken jaw bone -
warning the green, blue ocean of memory
to limit its vastness.
You are the white fog passing through.
You can't talk even in your mind.
These things are done.
No one need go here, but you will sometimes.
