Thursday, December 19, 2013

can i find the way?

the hum is the city

mouths closed silent
opening the day in force
moving in city numbers
calm, fresh, in a rush

good morning, meet those eyes
here i stop to make note
glance the ticking clock
now is our time

the crowd has a timbre, mood, a tone
could be the earth itself,  myself
full up this minding, hear that?
up close, it is not a hum

can i find the way?
undulating through combers
of people's notions;
some minikin thoughts are mine

though sustain on unattached observation.
as moment by moment
days rolling upon another
changing dream clusters

in motion. emotion. commotion.
my ship in harbor, no anchor holds me
waves of people walking, not talking,
not talking, although know well,

in their hearts everyone wants
to detail aloud their current concern,
ailment, injury, or when nothing else
is available, news of a friend or relative
yes, pain sells like rain to the weatherman
if night dreams lingered
there'd be more to write about
but days would be confusing, jumbled.

again i take pause to note the ticking clock;
now is my time.  now is our time.
long ago my ship left the dock
can i find the way

moving maze forward
through waves of people thought
fumes haze the brain
coat a glaze,  damper the blaze
now call bill to meet for coffee.
after hello he said today is paper day, a reminder
knows well the trash collection schedule.
he'll tell more when we meet at Angelo's

there, he talks, i drink the coffee.
though i try to subsist on keeping track
make note again, eye toward the ticking clock
now is our time

my fortune cookie said

my fortune cookie said
well, it didn’t say
it read,
that is to say, i read.

should i start over?
that’s not what i in the cookie read,
but it seems a good idea,
starting over.

if we have a choice,
if we’re not rich enough, healthy enough,
or have loved enough,
food to eat, place to sleep.

let’s work on it.
make our own cookie fortune.
print it by hand,
send it to ourselves

with insufficient postage,
then act surprised when
the postman returns it to our door,
i mean, to my door.

it’s not our door
cause we don’t live together.
well, we may,
but not you and i together.

you may live with someone,
that is possible,
but, if you’re not M.
you and i don’t live together.

but then, i am me,
you are busy being you.
now give me
my fortune cookie.

you have to make life
as best you can.
make it up.
make it out.

and i know you will
because we all
are doing the best
we can.

i don't have
to read that
bit of truth
in a fortune cookie. 

reprise  - aug- 2010

Wednesday, December 18, 2013


knee-deep in wild weed let's walk
an afternoon together
you tell your tales, i'll tell mine
kicking a stick

tossing dust to the wind
a sampling of this
to determine that
a perhaps a small fire and coffee

under the sweet warm leaves canopy
as sun shoots rays
pressing against our cheeks
and in our eyes

brother to brother
sons and daughters
fathers and mothers
friends all together

these things
and more
will always be
as i say, as they are

i have an island

i have an island in my room
i keep it in my bed
it's there i sun and walk on sand
and swim inside my head