extra fanci pomes

                                                                                     
                                            nobudy luves a pore man


                                      ide luv to rite a pore mans pome

                                      sumthen silky ta the tuch
                                      an sweet as a furst date

                                      sumthen bold as a banjo
                                      an ezy to rede as the whether

                                      sumthen cheap as sin
                                      an brite as redemchen

                                      sumthen thated warm hands on a cold  day
                                      and soothe harts on dark nite

                                      sumthen loyal as a dog
                                      whode sleep on yur grave

                                                                                                                                           
                                       
                                                           City of Mind

                      In the City of Mind, there can be sight without vision,
                      Touch without feeling, longing without love,
                      Relationship without connection, movement without life.

                      And as with all so near and fundamental,
                      We live within it, as it, yet do not sense it--
                      Is it real?

                      As real as you or I,
                      It is the now trembling womb of our reluctant birth--
                      For every sort of  birth is a form of death.


                               Poet Cocktail

Come mouth one plump, moon blossom angel;
Feel my dizzy night heart tingle;
Drink with me life's wicked poet cocktail!


                                                    Perfect

One morning while taking a bath, I remember a nun in front of a class,
A white oval of starched linen framing her face, her body hiding behind
Dull gray material cinched at the waist.
She's conjuring a vision of Judgement Day--The End Time
When all human's born of the earth will meet...up there?

For the elementary students we are this is hard to picture,
But as I glance around the room I sense we're being good sports,
Willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.
The idea seems to be we'll be forced to confess
All our dirty little secrets as we squint into the spotlight
Of that fearsome judge--God!

Now, as an adult, I feel I've been squinting into this spotlight my whole life.
As a twenty something I felt my secrets safe 
Behind a well sculpted body and handsome face.
As a thirty something I spent years before a mirror
Applying a subtle patina of worldly success, 
Though beginning to suspect that ugly word character would need to be addressed.

(The facade would undergo renovation,
 But with the same sorry secrets hiding behind it,
 Like nervous illegals dodging immigration.)

So, as a forty-something I read books on religion, philosophy and science,
Meditated and prayed, checking the mirror religiously,once a day,
For signs of a little more nobility here, compassion there--nothing!

Until one morning while taking a bath, I remember a nun in front of a class,
And that the word Catholic means universal, and what's more universal
Than the feeling that we will, if we wait, measure up to our ideal, at  some future date?

 Isn't it ironic we all have this need to compare, to be better than others?
 Do flowers compete?  Do stars in the night care who gives most light?

 So what's elemental is understanding the difference
 Between being discriminating and being judgemental.
 And after a lifetime of bearing this ideal over the mountains of hubris 
 And deserts of shame, won't it be a relief to quit this childish game?

 And when this last mask is shorn, it just might feel 
 As if we were standing shoulder to shoulder with all of humanity,
 Perfect as the day before we were born.

                    Summer

Celebrate cool, peach popsicle paradise;
Giggle down time's meandering river;
Taste summer's every brilliant dazzle                           


            Journey

Traverse the moment

As if--
Each breath a sun rising;
Thought, a halo 'round a moon;
All the dark, a pregnant pause between lovers:

As if--
You are the crystalline stillness of an icestorm;
All that seems vulnerable and fragile were unbreakable;
And all that seems invulnerable a mountain sinking slowly
   in a sea of love.


                Indigo Boy

I am Indigo Boy.
I love to drift on china seas, and lazily craft the lusty breeze,
While tacking dreams with my contented muse.

And as the ocean laps in restful rhyme,
I climb surrender, just for the view.


                   True Romance

There's romance in friendship;
Romance between grownups and children;
Romance between a man and his cat;
Between synapses of the soul and stars in the sky;
Between a square centimenter of flesh on an upturned face,
   and a drop of rain.

True Romance is the quivering
Of if and when, love and later, magic and proof;
That terriible caress of now.


                               You

You are some fiery rose of electric grace, a sacred spring,
A hot, drunk angel of joy!


           Fiddlesticks

I grab the alphabet and throw the letters
Up into the air like sticks.

And as the last letter lands I carefully flick
Each sound out of the center;

Leaving only silently, steeping, stillness.