There will be a day, I think, I guess, I know,
when the fires of the flesh bank and burn low.
One day the fireworks will end.
On that day lets be friends.
I would rather marvel at the lines of your face,
hear your stories, and let my heart race
to the smell of you, and the way you fit
all my curves and bulges when we sit
and watch movies and sip wine from the bottle.

So maybe our hackles don't raise anymore.
Less the heavy breathing and more the s'mores.
I guess it comes down to the end of wanting to run.
You have long been my friend and at times the one
who shared a sense of the darkness that seems to hover
at the edges of the day, and offer if not sunshine, cover.
There is something to be said for knowing sanctuary
is familiarity and routine and sameness; you know; ordinary.
Watching movies, drinking from the same bottle of wine.

I duck under a guillotine
every time I enter a bar.
I know the blade is sharp,
the trigger almost invisible.
Walked into a thousand dives
from Michigan to Thailand,
Alaska to Tijuana.
Once the gloom leaves the eyes
the rooms look familiar.
Threats and conquests
taken in one glance,
juke box, bathroom, back door
the next.

Now I'm older and wiser,
I tell myself,
better at getting along.
I know every day has its own
wicked blade.
Whispering names,
humming to itself.
Inanimate, cold,
a tool of time.
Makes the surprise of each day
joyful.

Memorial Day

They brought a Hero home today.
The brass of his casket was polished,
the flag that covered it crisp and new.
The Honor Guard carried him
past planes,family, Color Guard.
Their shoes were as black
as the storm-ridden May sky.
Forty Harley's shouted their pride,
the Patriot's Guard Riders pulled
off the tarmac, the hearse close behind.
Me,old sailor, old cabbie,
saluting the procession,
eyes suddenly tearing,
tears unnoticed.

Closer To Blue

Closer to blue today than when we walked in the city.
Together, alone, drenched in light and the gaze of strangers.

I'm closer to blue than I was yesterday, in the park.
The silent cat-tail stalks, like fingers accusing heaven.

When you faded to blue, all the things I love did too.
I am drenched in silence, lost in the world, way closer to blue.

Ralph Murre and me trading stanzas

I was tempted to play my flute today
until I heard the wind through
the broad wings of a Red Tail hawk


I tried whistling
blues in the Laundromat
but ran out of quarters
& lost the dryer's rhythm


I heard that stones
were rocks when they were young.
Guess it takes time to
bring out our inner stone-ness.


well-rounded the stone
at work in a foundation wall
after carrying glaciers


The only gift we can offer the dead
is to remember them.
Mortar them into our foundations
and they will hold us up.


There were hold-up men
down at the bank today --
the president, v.p., & branch manager,
robbing patrons.

Who said our leaders are lousy?
We have the best that money can buy.
And when our icons have fallen,
we raise such a hue and cry.

We'd like to string 'em up right now, see?
We'd like to hang 'em out to dry,
but underneath the tailored suits
they look a lot like you and I.


A bottle of wine,
a book of poems and
the moon shining through the door.
So much time I have wasted.


wine for the tongue,
poems for the ear,
moonlight for the eye,
and all for the spirit.
For what is the clock?

LIBERATION

Ladies, ladies,
line up neatly.

Goddess, whore,
mother, friend,

I see you now
for the woman you are.

I’m sorry I was
typically male in these things.

If I knew you were
as human as me,

hurt as me, sad as me,
as hopeful as me,

back then as I know now,
I wouldn’t a had to write

this fucking poem.