Thursday, May 27, 2010

SOME BIRDS

SOME BIRDS





Some birds still chirp,

Though night has all

But fallen now.

The birds will come again

When dawn breaks,

When the wrapping is

Removed

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

MARKS


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?

Now

I serve...


copyright (c) 2010 by the author

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

IN THE SHADOW OF MONEY



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...


KEARNY STREET BECKONS

ALL COMERS TO EAT, TO DRINK,

TO EARN A LIVING

TO SELL ONE’S SOUL.

“A NICKEL OR A DIME...:



Copyright (c) 2010 by the author


SOMETIMES



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

UNTITLED III


The dream begins

As the ambulance

Pulls away:

I’m still bleeding.

Weakness.

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,

Indicating

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

yesterday

Yesterday




Yesterday

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

ENVY




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

Updated,

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

EXCHANGE


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.

Traces--

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

Rearranges,

Breaks up the pattern

Of protons and electrons.

My confidence,

My sorrows,

My joys--

They announce that

I’ve been here--

There--anywhere.