Shoreline Cross — Hour 4

It’s what you might expect

at a rough and tumble spot

not a beach

but a graveled slope where dead-end meets Pacific

Surfers dodge driftwood big chunks here

so of course that’s what it’s made of this cross

held together with sea twine and brown lei

Underneath all local-style are gifts to the dead

a bottle of beer with a rusted cap

a bottle a water

and

what surprised me

a fresh black book that says

Holy Bible

unharmed by the spray

 

 

March 14 True Bop — Hour 3

I sat in my car at Wendy’s

wolfing my burger of choice

and spied a be-bopping character

prancing in silent rejoice

across the street he held aloft in one hand a take-out container all shiny

his other arm akimbo a homeless tour de force

 

A happy mathematical genius he was!

 

forward and back he shabby sashshaying

his lips they protruded, mick jiggering dude-head

Excited he was over this salad he was

a twixting the sidewalk between Island Honda and 7-Eleven

slow progress he made destination uncertain

celebration parading

in joyful tirading

nearly tumbling onto the street

 

A happy mathematical genius he was!

 

Now it didn’t appear to be salad

not that particular cut to its jib

my perception corrected it was a pie-plate it was

mouth-watering pie is what I spied

Indeed it was pie he held on high

Good God, one and all, it’s Pi Day!

 

A happy mathematical wonder he was!

 

Nursing Home — Hour 2

That night after the commotion

I found my moon imprisoned

behind a chin-link fence

thanks to neighbors

who had money for such things

from my bed confined

That one window my only

the moon my recurring

companion

my visitor in the dark

if clouds showed mercy

so immediate

so full of sensibles

of my youth

Granted the view was

imperfect already

through salted pane

corroded screen

and eyeglass smudges

(when I bothered the fumbling)

but

this shiny new fence

mocked my simple need

adding a new layer between

me and her face

the one I remembered tucked

under a warm coat on a chill evening

in the autumn behind the dorm

back when autumn held

possibilities

 

 

 

 

 

 

Aloha, 2020 Marathoners!

Looking forward to the 2020 marathon, due to begin in about 7 hours. Trying to refresh my memory here on how to post. One year ago I missed the marathon because of a serious illness–I was laid out flat in bed here on the north shore of Maui as my wife, Cindy Albers, labored away cranking out 24 worthy poems. I was crushed having to be sidelined from the burst of global creativity and connectivity, but this year I am ready.

This will be my fourth marathon, my third full marathon. I don’t write very often, so, as I’ve stated in the past, the marathon is just the kick in the pants I need to shake out some new work. Good luck to us all!

Big Group Hug,

waldomaui (sometimes known as Bear)

Hour 24–Too Much Darkness for Light

I’d need a miner’s light strapped to my tired head to see out that window

or that

or that

I’ll rely on the kitty marowing

to let me know the change in the weather or his kitty mood

fluctuating moment by moment

I can say there’s a moon out there

I have not the strength to stand up

only one last burst for bed

then my head be dead on the bed

Nite nite, all.