Late Night Poetry Reading

It's after midnight
A single light looking over my shoulder
Like a vigilant guardian angel

Reading the loves and losses
Of my brother / sister poets
Washing my soul

Preparing for deep dreaming
I am happy to endure bleary eyes
For one more poem before sleep

I Am A Poet

My job is to speak intimately
To cut through confusion
And stir what is within us

Pay day is every other Friday
No money
And a million dollars of satisfaction

Poor Substitute

They opened the casket
For her first view
Since his death

Then I resolutely entered the funeral parlor
And the widow turned away from him
To greet me
I stepped forward
To console her

Suddenly she embraced me
With intensity
Born of her first last look
At a husband of over 50 years

I could only receive
And play the part
Of a poor substitute

Full Moon Rising

I love a full moon rising
Sailing on a black sky

But it needs a cloud companion
To avoid loneliness
And confirm its signal to mate

E Poem

Each earful earned echoes
Enduring enemy enfeebles enforcement
Episodic epistle epitomizes epoch
Ersatz erudition escalates escapism

Esoteric essay establishes esteem
Evaluation evaporates evasive evidence
Evil exacerbates excessive exchanges
Executive exercises exert exiles

Exorbitant exorcists expand expectations
Expensive experts explain expletives
Exports expunge external extortions
Extravagant exuberance exudes exultation


[All 48 words not only start with “E”, also all are in alphabetical order]

Another Kind of Living

Put the pencil down
Push the paper away
Take off my eyeglasses

Breathe
Rest
Another kind of living

Stated Policy

Move beyond platitudes
And the myths of ourselves and country

Violence will not get us what we want

Wars do not make peace
They make enemies

The product of war
Is the precise reverse
Of the purpose of stated policy

Pouring Out My Heart

Can’t they see
I’m pouring out my heart
Leaving myself
Unprotected and expectant
They walk by
Never pausing
Nor even glancing

Learn to Forget

There’s these people I know
They remember every little dadgum thing

Like picky eaters
They give way too much attention
To anything they might not like
And often they are offended too easily

They need to learn to forget
Or I intend to forget them

Memory Visits

I patiently recline here in the space between your ears
Flowered by the rains of your occasional tears
I don’t want to disturb
Joy is not gone

Though the memory of me is dimmed
Yet some sweetness remains
I look forward to visiting
With you again before too long

HOUSTON CHRONICLE / SECTION B

For crime and misery
You can’t beat section B
Add some deaths
Then some weather
Put in some ads
And mix ‘em together

Today’s headlines:
Woman stabbed in home
Man kills brother
Police find 12 bodies
2 shot dead
Man to die for killing officer

There is some better news:
Relief is on the way
CEO indicted
A friendship evolves
Prom night is treat for seniors
(Hope they got luckier than I on my prom night)

How about the bizarre:
Libido pill for women stirs debate about desire
Newlywed female cheaters find more success in Texas
Cabbie extorts 10% tip
(I told you 10% was sufficient)
And my favorite - Man who lost arm to get new furnace

And then there’s stuff that not news to me:
Professor says there is lots to learn
Industry needs regulation
Put down the cell phone when you’re driving
Age is no excuse for bigotry
Hard work needed

And finally there are exhortations:
Change your life
Shop smarter and slim down
Blame the person in the mirror
Whine and Dine
(Though I think Dine and Whine is chronologically more correct)

As Walter always said
“And that’s the way it is”
Now I’ve got to solve the Jumble
See what Dilbert is doing
And maybe get a new furnace
Before I have to amputate my own arm

OBLIGATORY OBITUARY

Seems most obit writers choose “passed away”
Puh-lease, people die, they don’t pass away
And you don’t know for sure they are now in the arms of the lord either
Or that they’ve escaped their chains
Or departed this earth (in fact, they’re still here)

I’m angry when I read “died in Afghanistan”
And heartbroken to be notified
A newborn “was only moments in arms, but will be forever in our hearts”
I marvel to discover “she celebrated her 100th birthday, and then died peacefully”
Cautioned to learn “was killed by a hit-and-run driver” (probably drunk driver)

And pained at the revelation “died unexpectedly”
Knowing then they never had a chance to say goodbyes
I’ve never read, “was cruelly murdered by an evil scum bag”
But then you never get the details in the obligatory obituary.

SEE YOU LATER UNDERGROUND

The breeze caressing my face
Comes from the Southeast
It blows from the city of my birth
Carrying the ghosts of family
Still living in my imagination

They say
Take time with the living family
We will see you later
Underground


[I live in Houston and was born in Galveston. The moist, steady Gulf of Mexico breezes bring lots of warmth and memories]

VARIATION ON 73

This time of life
My core grows colder
Autumn turns to winter
Maturity ages into old

This time of year
My branches bear
Silver sprigs and amber leaves
Of few (or none)

This time of day
My sun is setting
Black night encroaches
And I rehearse eternal repose

But loves grow stronger
And I cling
To that which I must leave
Before too long


[This is my riff on Shakespeare's Sonnet #73]

MILD BREEZY MORNING

A mild breezy morning
Cloudy, so no sun
A long walk
On an interesting path

No Ipod
Just nature
And some of my thoughts
I am a poet

I am content

A SMALL VOICE

A small voice intrudes
It says
Paint
Today

When the Muse says
You must
I say
I will


[In addition to writing poetry, I paint (canvases, not houses)]

SOUNDS OF MARRIAGE

If you’re going to drive like that
Then I don’t want to ride with you
Are you going to clip those nose hairs
I ask that you don’t do that when we’re with other people
Use good manners in public
That’s tacky
Do you really want to eat that
Will you turn off the music so I can read
That shirt is dirty

What did you say?


[As every husband knows, this could be the start of an epic poem]

I DO NOT APPROVE

The news reports
A man crashed through the restraining cables
On the 2nd level of a parking garage
While trying to back into a space

Killing him

He was 63
I am 66
What is my generation
Starting to do to itself

I do not approve

STREET PARKING

Neighborhood street car parkers
Race to work through the city park
Avoiding closer spaces with contract parking fees

They are also rewarded
With brisk exercise
And time for their thoughts

WHENCE LOVE

WHENCE LOVE

We discover loveable qualities
Only after we start loving
And being attentive.
Like the wild, loving cannot be managed
It can only be recognized and honored

Love is not activated by the external object
Its source is internal
It is found in mesmerizing attention
That waters the psyche
And floods us with desire for intimacy

Love is born of the belly
Not the brain
The heart is a handbook of magic
73% water
And 27% fire