Death ramble – 13/24
I fill my body with food
The weight helps me forget that in life, I was weightless
And in death, I am heavy.
And I am soaked with death
The Gender Road Less Traveled
Facing the choice between a road that was easy and;
A road that was authentic;
And;
Not being able to walk both;
I
Chose the path of authenticity;
Because while difficult at times;
It at least would be;
Interesting,
-30-
Death of Me
My ego is dying; its claws
scrape me back to bare bones
that taste of source
I see myself best in blackened
feathers – your face always
seems much fuller
than the one I wear for you now
My edges meld into patchwork
invitations; my gaps into creations –
vague-solid salient impressions
Unlimited!
The concept plays
with my shape.
Until I am an ocean built of ships;
A mountain made of metaphors;
And a body pierced by passions.
The 12th hour
Today I trade my shovel for sunshine
I’m leaving the trash from the past behind
I’m moving forward to bigger and better things
I’m excited with anticipation for what this new life will bring
Packing a trailer in 3 hours flat nearly killed me
But determination prevails and dreams of expectancy
I cannot fathom the idea of multiple moves
This one alone is more than I can handle
“Run like the wind and never look back”, says the small voice in my head
The smell of fresh paint, the comfort of my new bed
A new life, a new beginning, a second chance, my time for winning
Saying goodbye is bittersweet
The trials that tested me, the memories that shaped me
The friends that I made, the enemies that trapped me
I’m a soaring bird now, with God’s wings to carry me
No more cages, I’m F-R-E-E
#13
Three years ago I was lost.
I was on a path that
had betrayed me.
The star I followed
grew dimmer in my eyes.
Three years ago I stood
on a road, facing two
paths ahead of me.
And while many would
see them as leading
to the same direction,
I knew the difference
all too well.
Three years ago I
made a choice.
One road was too familiar,
the easy one to take.
The other – new, unmapped.
A challenge. And I took it.
I travel it
not looking back.
It brought me here.
Still walking.
poem #11
even the opening chords were wrong
those plaintive just awakened half diminished
scales flat in all the wrong places
the day grew only more dischordant
as if the better players in the orchestra
deserted me left only a tuba and a violin
there once had been a melody
a kind of score written on old paper
the quarter notes black the half notes hollow
but today the hours stumbled like beginning
dancers trying to keep time their minute feet
unskilled and all the music off-key
so that the approaching darkness of night
comes welcome even with the fear
of its attendant nightmares
the atonal scale descends and the chords
break into arpeggios with spaces in togetherness
there will be music once again
Sour Cream Face
I remember . . .
All of the family gathered
In the big, white house;
A house with a
Wrap-around porch.
I remember . . .
Happiness and laughter and love
And rejoicing and celebration
I remember . . .
Not enough beds,
Relatives lying on sleeping bags,
Couches, porches
I remember . . .
Being too old for a crib,
But having to sleep
In one that weekend.
I remember . . .
A snotty older cousin standing
By the crib
In the morning,
Chanting, “Good morning, Baby.”
I remember . . .
Wanting to poke
Her in the eye,
But I would get in trouble
For that, so instead
I remember . . .
Pouring salt in her glass
Of TANG, and
I remember . . .
Her sour cream face crying
I remember . . .
Laughing so hard
That milk bubbled in my nose
I remember . . .
That big, white house, the crib,
The laughter, the TANG,
And salt
And I remember . . .
winning
Hour Twelve
Where do I go from here?
When there’s nothing new under the sun?
Every song has been sung,
Every book has been written,
Anything that can be done has already been done.
So, where do I go from here?
When every road has been traveled?
Every path has been taken,
Every adventure has been had,
Any place that can be discovered has already been claimed.
So, where do I go from here?
When every thought had already been thought?
Every idea has been explored,
Every invention has been produced,
Anything that can be made has already been made.
So, where do I go from here?
When every person has become who they are?
Every warrior has been tested,
Every hero has been revered,
Anyone who will be great had already been celebrated.
So, where do I go from here?
#12bis – C R O A K E D
The magic female goat
Is really magic
She comes on the field
Once a year when
The time has come
And it’s tonight
She stands on her back shoes
And says elaborated gibberish
Ancient parables playing with the ravens
C R O A K I N G
C R O A K S
The raven in the garden, jumping
Up and down, right and left
When suddenly everybody left
And all that is resting is the
Small baby cat on the grass
Meowing on all sides
To all trees and birds
Flying and working
As all trees do and do
The magic female goat
Is really magic
She comes on the field
Once a year when
The time has come
And it’s tonight
The ceremony just started
And the nature, in one second
Became silent like never before
C R O A K E D
The Road Less Traveled
I listened to you Robert
I did, you inspired me
I took that path less traveled
That road to no where
I have holes in my shoes
I have no house
But I can appreciate a nice sunset
Or the way the wind whistles in tandem with the palms
It did make all the difference
I am a poet Robert
I can say that
I can
Maybe not quite of your genius
But I have a small genius of my very own
I could have gotten married
Had small children
Gone to college to studied botany or airplane repair
But I took the road less traveled
The overgrown one with snakes
I have gotten lost in the meter
Gotten poison ivy from too much alliteration
I have slunk away slowly from a dangerous haiku
I blame you Robert
I do
That road less traveled
It means services are pretty far in-between
You may run out of gas
You might not have a hamburger when you want one
You may have to settle
For cuddling up with a warm notebook
At three in the morning
I know you were trying to be inspirational
And Bob, you were
I listened
I heeded your challenge
I tripped down that road and never looked back
Just one thing Rob, one small thing
Could you at least have left a map?
Written a sequel?
Helped me navigate some?
See I am on that road
I can’t feel my way
I can’t see the trees or the forest
The Road is now a tiny path
The overgrowth is menacing
I don’t have a machete
I’m scared Robert I really am
I took the road less traveled
I owe it all to you.
Now I need you to help me out
Come back for me Robert.
Please