Sunday, November 20, 2011


It is not a good idea
to drunk-text the President,
on face book.
He was selling a patriotic
coffee mug to support
his presidential habit
and I commented
Sir, its a nice mug,
but I think there are other things
that could use a little tending to.
I asked him to remember
the promises he made
and we believed.
And I said
give my love to the family.

We'll see how this one goes...

Sunday, November 13, 2011


Those many times
when the thought of you
brightened my days...
So many years wasted,
I hung on every word.
I knew the color of your eyes.
Well, hearts can be fooled,
yes and laughter can be lost,
but I can get past even this.
Loving you
was the holiest act
of my life.

Friday, November 11, 2011

What's left behind
when the City leaves?
If time is a thief
and tomorrow a treasure,
why is the past
still here?
The cat on top
of the book case
hunts in his sleep.
One paw stretches,
claws extend,
and some small
thing gets buried
in his fist.
I can hear the rumble
of his pleasure from here,
can almost taste the warm.
If time is a thief
I am a watchman
holding my light
against the night.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

A note from a few babyboomers to OWS

We stand in silence
because this time speaks for itself.
We cannot give our small voice
to the shout of today.
As always the young are in front,
willing us to wakefulness.
We wish we could let them know
they will not fail.
We would tell them
we never gave up hope.
Do you remember the longest hour of your life?
I bet it involves a loved one leaving. Mine was.
On a bench covered in green fabric, 4 in the morning,
near the bank of elevators
waiting for my brothers Scott and Jeff.
Our mothers' body on the way to the morgue
in the basement of the hospital.
When the elevators'
doors open it seemed like the gates of Heaven
and a bright radiance filled me,
and the hour was done.
Been years since these late October winds
have blown through this melancholy heart.
The rattling noise comes, I guess, from a faulty framework.
Once said "What cannot bend in the wind, breaks."
That is what I hear, late at night, as I lay to sleep.
What was once sturdy stands unsure in these winds.
I am not frightened, that lies behind me,
I feel like I want to be cast up, outside,
let me go where I will. Roots mean little to me now,
how can I stand still any longer while the geese
follow the same road that I paid for with my love.