Bound at home too many days
by temporary infirmity
watching tube until eyes glaze
I think of days that used to be......

For the first time in many years
just as a nap overtook me
memory returned by ancient gears
of a game trail that used to be.

So when I was at last set free
I decided to check if it still went its way
thus in my old truck I went to see
on this cold clear late winter day.

Hesitating to even patron the local library I grew up reading books in, I decided one day to risk it, keeping my wallet down in the deep, long reaches of my pocket.
A man with a glassy salamander stare was rocking back and forth back near a section once made up of high minded French Literature, his tongue extending to the sticky, ruined table, the whole pulpy mass covered with ladybugs. Most of the good books belonged to other libraries. There were small, gold wreathed funeral cards for the books gone missing.
The patrons were, though, mostly worn out looking clowns.

Blue roses and white polka dots on my umbrella
help me to survive the boredom of the flood.
To some it may sound like an adventure
but it is only seven long days of rain, thunderstorms,
creek swelling and cursing louder than birds.

Cars raising water-wings whoosh by me.
Time has stuck somewhere far ahead
leaving in the play-doh of days
an inch deep prints – hoofs and paws.

Algae mount on front lawns.
Old oaks crack joints – rheumatism in the twigs.
I stay mostly indoors,
even planted maple seeds in a shoe box.

Commas
semicolons
keep me going

I hate
to live in
parenthesis

my keys
in life are
shift and press 1

so I'm a hard ass
gruff and blunt
but I don't lie
or prevaricate

why call that mean

truth comes in words
or consequences

would you rather
make a fool of yourself
or have me school you
so you don't

it's up to you
but I already know
there will be
tears and tantrums
either way

so
give me a hug

and let's get back to work

We may feel like we’re unconnected
Pieces floating
Like broken planets
Without a sun
Like disassociated
Shattered shards
But maybe there is a bigger picture

Perhaps someone or something
Is twirling the kaleidoscope
Getting pleasure
Out of the surprising
Orchestration
The chaos
Made into order

a kiss on the cheek
a dainty wave

a sigh

good bye

her fate is hers
mine is mine

such sweet sorrow;

parting

amidst smiles

I remember tripping over a stone
Near the mountain bungalow
And found two bright salamanders
Not moving, fast asleep.

I took them by the tail and they awoke
Twisting like a screw between my fingers,
I put them in my thermos, closed it tight,
And brought them home.

Dad supplied a shoe box with a screen
(Cut out from the patio door
That I ran through like a bulldozer
Giving myself a scab on my nose.)

The sounds echo down time's corridor,
“wait, wait, wait for me. Wait for me!”
Playmates run, what can they know
of the chemos that attack her blood;

or chemicals, all mixed up in her brain,
that often throw her into such a wild
her eyes make no contact, poor child,
lost in some desperate, unknowing rage.

Pre-tears sting my eyes to look back;
small bald head, wide pleading eyes.
God, that one so young has to face
such hard truths, in her fight for life.

Heart Is All I Can Give

Very beautifully
folks put across
the qualities of their hearts

but like the darkness
beneath a candle
we are ever in search
and
land up in lurch

when we return home
we discern our ground
where happiness
peace and love
all can be found

with all in love around
on our very own ground..

My heart palpitates for all poets
where can diamonds be ever found
unless you come here
to read poets extremely sound