Thursday, August 28, 2014

For The Old Man

“If it doesn’t come bursting out of you
In spite of everything
Don’t do it.”   Charles Bukowski

He spoke of a bluebird
He had inside
How he” poured whiskey on him
And inhaled cigarette smoke”.

I tried to drown mine
Its song too painful
To hear, I choked it with
Swallowed tears and smoke

Still it didn’t die
Worn on thin sleeves
Always feeling
Pushing, prodding me to sing

I couldn’t choke down the song
Life bled it from me
Year after year

The year my mother went crazy
The year my father died

The year love showed me
How cruel it could be

Life teaches the song
Blank pages filled with its notes

There is a harmony to the chaos
It’s called breathing.

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Homecoming (for deverse; August 12, 2014)

Where would I go?


The flutter of clipped wings
in the distance

Never found a place
I wanted forever

Comfort seemed
short lived

Children grow
and fly away

To follow them
not the answer

Never found the roots
some have been able
to grow deep

Mine sparse
still feeling the breeze
of a distant land

The ocean calls
only to sweep
me back to shore

Eons ago
she was home

Now I visit
tasting the familiar
knowing I can’t stay forever.

Dorothy said:
“There’s no place like home.”

Is it all a dream,
The search for those
backyard diamonds?

Saturday, August 9, 2014


The echo

Of silence

Plays upon


How would we



Draped in the black

Of worldly things

Which smother  a spirit

Waiting to be born?

Holding breath


It weeps in the shade

 no longer able

to breathe freely

each gasp

a struggle

to be heard.