Wednesday, August 29, 2018



Everyone gets lonesome.
Just look up in a summer sky;
There’s always a wisp of white cloud
Amidst the sea of abyssal blue,
So slight, it can hardly carry any rain.

Just as the lonely don't see they're in pain.

Within a sea of green
Is a boy with a ball.
His lips are whispering,
Almost as fast as his feet,
As he darts across the lawn.

You think he’s all alone,
Like a June cloud adrift.
But he’s taking on the whole 1st grade;
Dragons and demons,
And Real Madrid too.
He feints right, then a left Cruyff fake,
Leaving invisible foes in his wake.

The cloud is just the water you can see
While sweat beads on your brow,
As you stand behind a window watching
In a quiet, uncool house.
To your left, in a bowl,
Is a fish swimming in water.
And out there, within the summer haze,
Is that boy elapsing his days,
Navigating his own fathomless realms


Saturday, August 4, 2018

Another Damn Poem

Change the Subject

Change the subject.
Let’s talk about something else.
What a lovely arcade of vessels;
But now they’re all starting to bleed.
Let’s change the subject

There, over there, is a lovely fine flower.
But you’re picking up petals
That have fallen to the ground.
Let’s change the subject.

Let’s flip through this old album.
Look at us here, look at my crazy hair.
You’re holding my hand.
Look at us now….
Let’s change the subject.

What shall we have for dinner?
Can the pit in my stomach
Allow for the stalk of a snack?
Have this celery, have a few.
But it’s impossible to look in your eyes while you chew.
Let’s change the subject.

Who’s the President?
Shall we talk about politics, tangentially,
Like John Locke or Machiavelli?
Let’s do change the subject.

Have you heard any new cool music?
I'll put on some jazz fusion and pretend it’s sexy.
But you're out in the yard flinging
My vinyl records like Frisbees
Into a swarm of summer midges.
Do paintings make your head spin or just ache?
I get so close to the frames my eyes blur
Trying to find the thing I hope has been hidden
While you always stand astride,
Far enough away from me,
Finding the beauty you need in the slants and the angles.
When I’m bored at the symphony,
Why, during the Agnus Dei, do your tears
Always seem to fill an empty hole
That bores right past me
And flows out the back exit door?
Let’s change the subject.
Let’s talk about something else.

The sound of the birds in the morning?
But you’re not even awake.
The glint of the sun off the evening ocean?
But you’re already off riding the last wave.
Shall we speak of God and the saints?
Shall we kneel together and pray?
How could we, you won't sit still,
Shadow dancing across a stage
With an invisible form you say is my soul.
Let’s please change the subject
Let’s find something new to discuss.

Or what if we just stopped looking for subjects,
Stop talking, for once.
We can just sit here, you know,
On this slatted wooden bench
And notice the objects
All around us, for once,
And give them all names,
Names only you and I will know.
Everything right here within this once in a lifetime view.
Look to your left
And I'll keep an eye
On the ones to the right.
All that we see, re-named anew.
And we'll save what we've found,
Each and every named object,
Hidden away in a secret place,
(Our own buried treasure chest).

Tamp the dirt.
Let's sit and rest,
Just bide our time and wait
For the moment when our objects become subjects
That can't ever be changed,
Before the subjects themselves are gone.