Monday, November 15, 2010



Wires crisscross

Carrying cars full

Of tourists who

Can look but

Cannot touch

Where Adam stood

And Eve wandered,

Where Abel farmed

And Cain plotted,

Where they hid together

In shame.

Where is Barnum now?

He could never imagine

Turning paradise into

A theme park,

A show,

A day’s entertainment.

The animals remain,

Hiding from strange eyes.

(Do they know they

Are safe from exploitation?)

All day, the tourists parade

Overhead in open cars

Until the sun

Turns the sky

Into a rainbow tipped

On its side,

And the dreamers

Must leave.

Angels, dressed

As bouncers,

Firmly escort out

Any stragglers

Clear of the space

From which all

Have been



A celestial day

Has ended, and all

Must return to lives

From whence they came.

All visitors must

Now leave

The garden

Where omniscience,

Omnipresence and

Omnipotence resided

Once upon

A time.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Thursday, October 14, 2010


I went out to dinner tonight. On my way out the door, I grabbed my cane and my purse. My destination was Fudrucker’’s. I had a craving for a hamburger and their spicy fries.

I walked up to the counter to place my order, only then realizing I couldn’t find my debit card. It wasn’t in the pocket of my purse where I normally keep it.

I checked other pockets. I found other things, including a debit card that was no longer valid. But I came up short when I needed to pay for dinner.

I apologized to the cashier, and started to leave. I was thinking of returning once I found the card. Just as I left the restaurant, the woman who had been serving me ran out calling my name.

The manager, she said, wanted to pay for my dinner. I’m a regular at Fudrucker’s, so they know me by name and by sight. I thought about refusing the generous offer to pay for my dinner, but decided to accept it.

It was on my way home that I began to think about good deeds. When should we offer to do them? When should we accept them from others? I’m the first to admit that I can be stubbornly independent: I prefer to be self-reliant, take care of myself, and not be beholden to others for favors. But there’s something to be said for allowing good deeds to be done. For me, in this instance, perhaps the lesson is meant to be humility--I'm not meant to be an island unto myself. For the manager who paid for my dinner, perhaps the lesson is charity.

I still believe in independence≤, but perhaps I need to allow strangers into my life to offer their random acts of kindness. And who am I to deny someone else the good feeling of doing something for me?

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Wednesday, September 29, 2010


She says: touch

Without consent

Equals disturbance.

She says: touch

Without love

Is meaningless.

She says: touch

Without permission,

Is simple assault

She says: touch

With malice

Is always a threat.

She says: touch

Without invitation

Implies control.

A woman’s body

Includes the bubble,

Safe distance between her and the world.

Don’t touch

With intent,

Don’t touch

Without invitation

Don’t touch

Unless touched.

The rules

Are simple enough.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Friday, August 20, 2010


The dark hours--

After night falls/

Before dawn breaks--

The volume of the world

Is turned down,

And I can hear

The crickets outside

My window, and the hum

Of a freeway a mile away.

A dog barks at shadows.

This is as close as a city

Can come

To silence.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Wednesday, July 14, 2010



Her silent,

Mother with child.

It’s enough

That you worry.

You don’t need

Her tears

To drown you

And your hopes.

You don’t khnow

The judge’s mind.

You don’t speak his language

You speak Spanish,

And he

Speaks Legal

When he’s on the bench,

American Legal.


Her silent,

Mute your daughter’s

Please, please.

Outside this door

You worry,


I work--

Work within earshot

Of you,

Of her,

Of laws

I didn’t write,

You didn’t write,

that spin

Worlds on their axes.

Your song,

I don’t know the words,

But their intent,

By your voice,

Are meant

To breathe peace

Over a child’s eyes,

Sand man of another language,

Do your duty.

Sounds of sorrow,

Sounds of fear


Down to


As another day’s

Work begins,

Rending lives

From their temporary place.

Laws of motion send souls

Spinning off the surface

Where seeds

Had been planted,


Had been anticipated.

Sing her silent.

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Monday, June 28, 2010


To reach/

To strive/

To try to touch

Calls for bravery,

Calls for desire.

The raindrop on the tongue,

While the rest of the body is washed,

The penny that landsface up--

Meaning good luck for the finder.

The hand that itches to hold

The money.

We reach/

We seek/

We want/

We drink

The rain drop by drop--

Sky purified..

Copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Thursday, June 10, 2010


While the body rests,

Repairs are made

After yet another day

Of life’s abuses,

The mind must consolidate

What it has gained,

Versus what it has lost,

And while it balances its books,

It entertains itself with our dreams:

Sometimes it makes sense

Of the actions and responses

We experienced,

But sometimes there are

No reasons for what flits across

The inner screen.

While the movie plays,

Everything we learned

Is set against everything

We forgot.

And when it’s done,

It’s time

For another day

To begin.

All accounts

Are balanced

And ready for

Debits and credits.

(c) 201010 by the author

Wednesday, June 9, 2010


Now available from

Thursday, May 27, 2010



Some birds still chirp,

Though night has all

But fallen now.

The birds will come again

When dawn breaks,

When the wrapping is


On a brand new day.

The birds--I wish

I knew the names--

Will be outside my window

Once a gain

When all that remains

Of night is swept aside.

Sing me awake.

Sing me to sleep.

I don’t care.

Whatever their names,

The birds are welcome.

COPYRIGHT (C) 2010 by the author


For Jane Martin

I willl forever

]be paying off

The debts incurred

Every time I skinned my knee,

Sprained my hand

Or my heart..

Encounters brought new knowledge,

And now

It’s my obligation,

No, my pleasure

To teach what I learned

By explaining all the marks,

Nicks and cuts,

Their histories,

Their geographies,

Their biographies.

Can others learn from

My mistakes?

Have I learned from

The miscues,

The wrong words

At the wrong time?


I serve...

copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Wednesday, May 26, 2010


In the shadow of money,

Where the homeless move

Their shopping carts,

Where there’s only the aroma

Of a good hot meal.

Currencies zing overhead,

Dollars and cents in all directions

But down.

Men in suits and ties hurry

To catch up with their leader.

The homeless man doesn’t wave hello or goodbye.

“A nickel or a dime,

A quarter if you will,

A dollar if you cancan.”

And still no one looks

The man--a thin dollar falls his way.

Between fast food

And faster pedestrians,

It’s a wonder anything

Catches the eye.

No one notices.

“Good morning...could you...

Never mind,

Hi there, do you have...

I just want a cup of coffee...

It’s cold, right?”

The lawyers come.

The bankers go.

The tourists--

They take pictures

Another hungry day flees the scene.

“I can watch your car

For an hour, for a dollar?”

“I can open the door for you

For just one thin dollar.”

Just a dollar...






Copyright (c) 2010 by the author


Sometimes caught/

Sometimes free.

Sometimes beautiful/

Sometimes hideous.

Sometimes injured/

Sometimes healed.

Sometimes loud/

Sometimes quiet.

Sometimes fast/

Sometimes at a crawl.

Sometimes hungry/

Sometimes thirsty.

Sometimes attentive/

Sometimes lost in thought

Sometimes the question/

Sometimes the answer

Sometimes there/

Sometimes here.

Sometimes loving/

Sometimes envious.

Sometimes music/

Sometimes silence.

Sometimes broken/

Sometimes repaired.

Sometimes a flower/

Sometimes a weed.

Sometimes sinful/

Sometimes holy.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010


The dream begins

As the ambulance

Pulls away:

I’m still bleeding.


Having taken control

Of something of my own body.

I am not weak!

I am not unworthy of love!

See my pain

In red ink,


That someone--

Who, I wondered-

Could read my letters

Written on my skin.

I’ve overdrawn my account.

In the dream I am moved

From room to room.

They don’t know where to put me.

They can’t find a square hole

For this square peg.

I am silent.

I stay quiet.

From room to room,

Briefly intersecting other lives,

We share a silence,

Then I’m gone again,

And the air I’ve displaced

Rushes back in as I leave.

Where to next?

Tuesday, May 11, 2010




Grows longer/

Tomorrow grows shorter

With each breath--

Each tale we create

About ourselves

Becomes old news

After one telling.

We ascend to the top

Of the hourglass

With each grain of sand:

And then

The journey ends,

And we return

On angels’ wings

With the knowledge

We’ve acquired.

We, the doves,

Returning to the ark,

Announcing dry land.

Monday, May 10, 2010


I’LL trade you

Life for life,

Gift for gift,

,troubles for troubles,

Dream for dream--

And maybe,

With a new eye,

An outsider’s touch,

We might find peace.

I’ll trade you

Life for life,

Disability for gift,

Wheels for a cane,

Bus pass for the keys

To your car--my car now.

The prince and the pauper


What do you say?

What do you say?

I’ll trade you

Family for family.

Let’s see how we approach

Relationships wornh thin.

Your arguments become mine,

And I’m not tired of hearing them.

Saturday, May 1, 2010


She was here--

I just know it.

It isn’t the scent of her perfume,

But the arrangement of molecules,

The electricity-that remains for hours,

Days, years.

Her pets are no longer here.

Her clothes have been packed

And shipped.

She left in a hurry,

But I know--I just know--

She was here.

The nick knacks are missing,

The collage of life has been transferred

To an unknown place.

But she was here.

And now, I suppose,

Someone will know

That I’ve been here too.


I leave traces

Of myself

Wherever I go--

I can’t help it:

My scent,

My aura,

Dead skin cells,

My hair, my footprint,

My fingerprint


Breaks up the pattern

Of protons and electrons.

My confidence,

My sorrows,

My joys--

They announce that

I’ve been here--


Tuesday, April 27, 2010



By DanaLynne

I need to shout,

To proclaim my talent,

Exclaim my innocence,

Celebrate my knowledge

Of words

And punctuation,

Break silences regularly,

Be it with the lark

Or the owl,

Sunrise or


More than blood,

I have stories,

I have songs,

Pulsing through

My busy veins..

Life is a story--

Life is a song--

I must tell--

I must sing! ! !

Saturday, April 24, 2010



By DanaLynne

Breathe in oxygen,

Breathe out dust of angels.

The task of spreading heaven

Over the surface of the earth

Is given to spirits

Who inhabit vessels

Known as bodies.

Breathe in nitrogen

Breathe out angel’s dust

To cover us all with a fine film

Of protection

Against evil,

Against deception

Breathe in helium,

Exhale angel’s traces

The breaths are limited,

A certain unknown number

Somewhere between two

And five billion cycles.

Until the task is finished.

Inhale in H2O,

Exhale memory of heaven

Breath grows faster,

The exchange of bad

For good,

Drains the body,

Draws the container.

Breathe in air,

In exchange for shedding

The errors,

The mistakes,

Hard emotions--

Like hard water

In preparation.

Breathe in heaven,

Breathe out detritus.

The spirit preparing

To vacate the vessel

And return to heaven,

Task accomplished


Monday, April 12, 2010


Have you ever had a thought,

And had it ripped from you

When someone else speaks up

With your idea, your dream,

Your contribution in a conversation?

“So close,” some say,

“how he knows what she

Will say before she does.”

It comes with the years.

It comes with the fears--

Anticipating responses to prevent

Progress in a conversation.

I know, because I’ve listened.

She knows, because she paid attention.

We zig/I zag

And words go unsaid.

Nobody notices.

But we know. We--


Years of stories,




Time after time.

The days’ routines



Day after month

After year, after decade

Until we know--

We know all there is to know--

We think--and so, this shorthand

Of stepping on words,

Trampling sentences

To interject,

Participate in the storytelling.

“And she said--”

“No, I think she said--”

“And She did--”

“Can you believe what he did?

It blew me away.”

But I interject,

And she shakes her head.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010



Hold that thought--

Don’t squeeze too tightly--

Let it breathe,

Let it grow.

When it’s too large for your hand,

Find a quiet corner of the mind

Where it will bob to the surface

From time to time,

Keeping you on track

To attain your dream.

Prepare to defend

The nascent dream

When it migrates

From the mind

To the heart:

Do not expose your 8x10 dream

To those who see the world as 3x5--

It won’t fit,

They won’t understand.

They never will.

The dream--

A child, perhaps,

A journey yet to come.

I want to be a fire-walker.

I want to see the Amazon River.

I want to bring something new,

Something never seen before,

Never heard before, into being.

Minutes become hours

Become days, weeks, years.

Time doesn’t matter when you dream:

You get up each day to serve the dream,

Taking one more step,

Make one more decision

Draw one more breath.

A day links to another,

And the chain grows stronger

For the time when it will lift

The finished dream

Upward into the light.

Hold that thought

COPYRIGHT (c) 2010 by the author