Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Sunny D walking away

She's a callipygian goddess.
It is definately in her jeans.
And to see her from behind
is to know exactly what that means.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005


Neil Young plays.
Seagull calls.
Windblown grey chop
reflecting silver sky.

A cool breeze blows
lake-scented air:
tannic water and algae
mixed with outboard exhaust.

A lifetime sitting lakeside
while tourists come and go
ties my forty-five years
to a youth of long ago.

Who knew I'd be here yet,
still pondering life,
still seeking answers
to questions no one is asking?

Why does my eye for life's beauty
leave me feeling so empty?
Guess it's true that visions of zanado
ruins you for everything else forever.

Monday, July 25, 2005

Hot Mtn Day

July 25,
another hot day in the mountains.
Misty showers give way to silky sky.
Whiteface dissolves into the hazy horizon.
A cicada calls long and loud,
like maracas gone wild.
Vervant green hills and fields ripple with escaping waves of heat,
color flattened by the relentless sun.

Tuesday, July 12, 2005


I love the call of the phoebe.
How can you not smile at a bird
that sounds like a squeeky toy?

Monday, July 11, 2005

Smack Momma

Smack Momma,
pulling her child in a wagon down Main Street.
Her eyes almost hidden
by the darkest of circles below.
She ain't supposed to be here.
This ain't supposed to be here.
How did they get here?

Smack Momma,
dragging herself up the hill to the dark side of town?
Does she even know if her child is still with her?
She ain't supposed to be here.
This ain't supposed to be here.
How did they get here?

Sunday, July 10, 2005

Life & Love

(If I showed up at your door, unwilling to leave, would you send me away, anyway. I suspect so.)

Love is like having a baby: there is no right time, and if you wait for a right time, you wake up one day and find life and love moved on without you.

Nothing like music

Nothing takes me out of myself,
centers me, gets me higher,
or takes me away
like playing music.

There isn't enough rum
or drugs on the planet
to achieve the same release.
It is a high without equal,
a buzz without hangover,
a rush without peer.

It becomes more difficult
to span the musicless times between,
when destructive habits move in -
times when I am either trying to deaden the loss
or simulate the experience.

I saw a young woman tonight

I saw a young woman tonight.

She reminded me of you:
when we were younger;
when we first met; and
when last I held you close.

Her hair like a halo,
her smile full of life,
she was clearly happy to be
in the here & now.

A voice like a meadowlark,
eyes sparkling in night,
she was a lone gem
in a car of unknowing boys.

I shouldn't regret
the paths of our lives.
It is part of who we are
and some good in it, too.

But I can't help but wonder
what it would be like now
to have music, and children
and you.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

A Midnight Muse

What can you do if your muse strikes at midnight?
You're tossing & turning, but how do you choose?
Do you lay there & struggle 'gainst your brain infernal,
or rise & hitch a ride with your midnight muse?

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

A Camp Summer Day

Cool & drizzly,
a summer in camp kind of day.
Shorts & a sweatshirt,
walking barefoot
in damp sand and forest duff,
the air misty with
low-lying cloud water
and "wood smoke" rising.

It is a good day to reset one's soul,
clear one's mind,
and begin anew.
Or at least dash madly
into a lake
and plunge swiftly
into clear water warmer than air.