Poetry 2019

A mind is a terrible thing to waste (112619)

A mind is a terrible thing to waste
Flashed on the marquee above my memories
Of the young man with the mohawk
About whom I had made certain assumptions
As he settled into a spot on the sidewalk
Surrounded by a few odd belongings –
Empty $10 coin wrappers and a Pepsi can carefully hidden in receipts, as one might hide a flask of liquor in a paper bag.

Likely a lost soul whose mind had been invaded by illness
And who had missed the razor-thin safety net on his way down,
He mumbled some incoherent words as I passed.

Hours later, he was gone, his belongings scattered about.
Yet, in his place, he had left evidence of his beautiful mind,
One intrigued by vector calculus, numerical analysis, and statistical concepts
But also one that had devolved into a lament –
“This disagrees with my understanding of the scientific method. I remember you were pointing my gun at me.”

Without and within (051319)

One day the peach tree will bloom
Without me noticing

The fig tree will go from barren branches to a blanket of broad bright-green leaves in a matter of weeks
Without an expression of wonder from me.

The springtime scents of jasmine and lavender will waft through the cool morning air
Without registering in my nose

The newly emerged Mourning Cloak will sit quietly drying her wings
Without me being amazed

Instead, I will be nourishing the earth that sustains them
So that another can enjoy the world’s bounty

Untitled (021119)

I knew the time had come
When the hawk perched on the lamppost
Brought me to tears
When a homeless woman who had been out in the sun far too long and raged at no one in particular left me weeping
And when I worked around the clock trying to prove I was a superhero

The time had come to give space to my humanity
To abandon the facade of perfection
And to put aside all that had blocked me from the present

Poetry 2018

The hallowed halls

Hey, you, in the hallowed halls,
Who have forsaken the silenced majority
And forgotten that you are the hired help.
Yes, you.
I have come to counsel you and warn you that such behavior will not be tolerated.
You have an opportunity to mend your ways and open your hearts.
You have an opportunity to cast aside your cloaks of ignorance.
But opportunities are just that.
They must be grasped and acted on.
The clock is ticking.

All but forgotten

The yarn was tangled and frayed
Caked in mud and worse.
Once high on the mountain, strong and unifying
It now lay at the mountain’s foot, discarded,
Its story of hope and compassion all but forgotten
And with it, the triumvirate of orators to whom it once belonged
Brought down in a hail of gunfire.

Poetry - 2017

Surface is the new substance (123017)

The staging began hours ago

In that gentrified loft over there

With the walk-in closet and the designer dog

Did they practice walking in lock step?

Or was it simply an artifact of all that

careful staging?

Surface is the new substance.

The scene was meticulously choreographed

With five people on his left and five people on his right

And a pentagram of people at the back

All with vacant smiles and no depth of understanding

Feigning excitement at the flourish of a pen

Surface is the new substance.

After completing his autopsy, the coroner bowed his head and wept

Another atrophied brain lay before him

He was old enough to remember a time

When surface was not the new substance.

Untitled (101517)

She shook uncontrollably

And cried inconsolably.

Her anger felled trees and leveled houses.

Her power scared her,

But subtler measures had failed.

Her children were in trouble,

Overtaken by lethargy, fear, complacency, and self-interest.

She waited anxiously, knowing there was only so much she could do.

Evolution of a dog (090417)

You arrived a bundle of uncontained energy

Whining for attention

Nibbling on cherished Turkish carpets

Shredding the iconic Frank Brothers chairs

And peeing wherever you chose

Until settling into the middle years

Spent chewing on Nylabones and assorted toy animals

Before burying them in the soft dirt behind the garage

Occasionally exhuming them and presenting them proudly at the backdoor

As unrecognizable earth aliens

Now that you are older, you prefer your quiet time under the bed

Leisurely walks with plenty of smelling time

Head massages while practicing your downward dog

And extra encouragement before mounting the steps into the kitchen,

Solicited by a bark

More Poetry - 2017

Poem - 080917

Once there was a young girl for whom death was an abstract construct

Until every evening’s news report began with the daily carnage in Vietnam

Until a close family friend was murdered for being in the wrong place at the wrong time

Until her grandfathers passed away

Until her best friend’s father succumbed to cancer

Until her mother proved the doctors right when she died just six months after a diagnosis of metastatic lung cancer

By the time she was 40, death had become concrete and strangely palatable

And life had become a cherished and poignant commodity.

Poem - 070217-1

Our soul is our unique spirit and our unique set of gifts

Before any labels are applied

Any affiliations established

And any expectations set

As our lives progress, our souls become a lost treasure in a hoarder’s house

Overtaken by so much clutter and trash that we forget it exists

Unless the universe awakens us in time for a reunion

Poem - 070217-2

I refuse to be at the mercy of all that came before me and all that will come after me

Helplessness is not in my DNA

So I spit defiantly in the faces of the past and the future

And march on, flanked by the gods of love, justice, and compassion and their armies of followers

With a confidence that rivals David's

A crow's death (052017)

Their chorus is neither soothing nor solemn

But more a loud, urgent pleading

From the trees above their fallen brother

To let him know they are there to honor him.

Their vigil is filled with endless chatter, perhaps recounting what he has meant to them

Without a hint of the maudlin eulogies heard at the nearby church on Sunday morning

Theirs is direct, full of feeling and anguish, but accepting of what lies ahead

Until just as quickly as they arrived, they depart

Along with their brother’s last flutter of life.

A tribute (051217)

It was a final incoherent, yet poignant, expression of her spirit

Before a flock of birds flew past the window moments later

Accompanying her soul to parts unknown

It is not the image of her I like to dwell on

But it was the last frame in the reel that was her life

As her child, I remember best her steady stream of unconditional love

Her patience as she listened fully present to my mundane ramblings about the inconsequential events of the day

Her rescue of a homeless tortoise she knew I would cherish and care for

Her worried face admonishing me to be careful driving home at night from school, as she lay a prisoner in her bed and consumed by pain

Poem - 020317

One day, without notice, the sun rose in the west and sank in the east

And although it seemed odd

It also seemed unsettlingly normal

On the streets, many walked doggedly forward with open wounds in their chests

While others wept silently and knew not what to do

Until an old man called to his granddaughter in a sing-song voice asking whether she would like some ice cream