But One

　

　

　

I don't know
where this comes
from
either from under
the peach-fuzz
skin of my heart
or the
cantelope depths
of my head
but I chose
and named
a star for you
tonight
a small one
not so big
it will burn out
too soon
not so tiny
that it will
outlast its
welcome
but one
just right
bright
white.

The First Cut

　

　

　

Filling the mower,
checking the spark plug,
I marvel how spring
snuck up on us
so quickly.
When the trees
were still bare
it tottered over the fields
from a distance
but its pockets
were full of green
so rich and it threw
handfuls of the stuff
everywhere so that
it seemed overnight
the world had
come alive
just like the motor
under my hand now,
one pull and the
blades begin to
turn, the grass
begins to
shimmer.

The Biggest Moon of the Year

　

　

　

They say you'll be an extra large
scoop of vanilla tonight, a bigger
cookie than normal leaving stars
behind you like crumbs.
Just imagine all the babies
concieved tonight, the moon
both full and closest to the earth
as the little souls-to-be dance
barefoot on the cool grass
as their mommies and daddies
sleep, the deed done.
In nine months the earth will
widen a bit more for these
blessed newcomers, but for now
the moon is melting on the trees
and rooftops and even on me
as I've finally decided to go out
and see it face to face, one on
one, cold silver loner to cold
silver loner.

Amnesty On Our Silvery Guest

　

　

　

This morning we took the plate
out of the freezer that held the last
snowball of winter and set it
on the kitchen table.
For hours we watched it
slowly melt on this hot April day
until I just couldn't stand it any longer
and put it back in the freezer.
Everyone at first protested until
I explained that I just couldn't
handle torture in any form at all
and this surviving soldier
of December certainly didn't deserve
such a slow, cruel death.
In the silence then
we all agreed and bestowed
amnesty on our silvery guest
beside the ice cube trays
and frozen fish, a reprieve and
a chance to go home once winter
came back to us again and
the first snow would fall, how
together we would set him free
into his comrades' cold
white arms.

The Portrait

　

　

　

Imagine my embarassment
every time company came
to visit and my mother would
point out the large picture
of me on the living room wall
taken at JC Penny's when
I was just two years old
dressed in brown shorts
and a white shirt, little brown
shoes on my feet; it was
the first thing I got rid of
when she died knowing
I could finally live with
never having to look at it
again; so tell me why now,
after so many years, do I
dream of that picture
waiting at the curb with
the rest of the trash
to be picked up, and
there is a woman standing
with her back to me
weeping, looking down
at the baby face and soft
eyes captured forever
on film, weeping to herself
so silently I'm so afraid
to intrude and ask who,
and ask why.

Gestalt

　

　

Out on the lawn
in the morning sun
I had intended
to read -

now the ants
are crawling
over my books.

Sweet

　


Spring, dusk,
contemplation -

she smells of
tea
and the
nearness
of her
dogs.

Maturing

　

　

　

The empty tree-swing
sways in the wind -

the children
have gone off
to play
soldier.

The Rescue Dog

　

　

　

We saved her one eye
but the other was too far gone
with infection so we removed it
and replaced it with a prosthetic
then sewed the eye shut;
her skin was raw in places
from where she scratched
at the fleas so bad her hair
fell out in patches, but with
a good bath and grooming
and some flea repellent
she's healing up nicely;
she's eating good and
gaining weight, she's
a bit shy but given what
she's been through that's
to be expected; I can tell
she's a fighter though and
above all her heart is still
whole, which is more
than I can say
for the people
who had
her last.

The Girls Upstairs

　

　

　

The girls upstairs are good neighbors,
there's never a TV too loud or a stereo
left on all hours of the night; they
come and go, they go to class,
out to the movies or for a run,
always with a smile or a wave
when we cross paths; their boyfriends
stomp their large feet when they walk
across the kitchen floor, but that's
ok, I remember worse neighbors
so what's a few heavy footsteps
when the rest of the time they're
quiet; the girls upstairs sleep in late
on weekends the same as I do,
tho' 8 am is hardly late, but the mornings
are peaceful as I hear them get up
to use the bathroom then trundle
back to bed for a few more hours sleep;
yes, the girls upstairs are good neighbors
and I'll miss them when they graduate
and move on to marriages and careers,
children and homes, family reunions and
daycare, but for now they're mine
so I'll say it again - the girls
upstairs are very good
neighbors.

How I Do It
　
　
　
　
I never know what will surprise me
and shock me into a fit of writing,
it could be this cloudless blue-sky
morning with the crescent moon
like a chip of ice fading in the
nearness of the sunrise; the sky
is empty, the space between
the moon and I, all empty, even
sunlight is empty, but sometimes
emptiness is exactly what you need,
is all you have; you wander home
and write about it, thinking it might
make you feel a little bit better,
and sometimes it does and
sometimes it doesn't.

Guitar Lessons
　
　
　
She says that switching quick
from the E major chord to the
open G is still giving her trouble;
I tell her to keep practicing
slowly, building up precision
and worry about speed later;
I write out a scale for her
to practice also and give
the same advice - start out
slow; they say the young
are restless and want everything
now, now, now; where is the
patience? But I am 44 and
getting older, feeling time
and life slipping past me
a little faster every day;
I too want it all, now, now,
now.

Patient Work
　
　
　
　
It is as wondrous a mystery
to me as if someone had
opened up a corpse
on a cold steel table
for me to take a look
inside - only this is more
benign, a Chevy with its
hood up, still all the tubes
and wires and boxy things
are unrecognizable to me,
unimaginable; but he takes
his socket wrench in hand
and begins surgery; I watch,
waiting to pass him the tools
he asks for, though more
than anything I'm probably
just in the way of his
patient work.

Don't Take The Sun For Granted
　
　
　
　
Don't take the sun
for granted
it can vanish
suddenly
like a coin
in the snap of
a gray cloud's purse,
and nightly it goes down
into the sea
to drink or eat fish,
I don't know, I never
studied science,
but I'm smart enough
to make the most
of a day
when it shines through
every hour
and miss it like a sister
once darkness
irresistibly
comes.