Sunday, September 23, 2007

Did not grow up

His children did not
grow up in his father's
house

He cut his hair short
as he should

He shined his wingtips
as he should

He wore shirt and tie
as he should

He went to work
Sundays to church

He marched.



His children did not
grow up in his father's
house

You ran away as soon
as you could

You stayed away as long
as you could

You changed the world as much
as you could

You sang the songs
protested the wrongs

You marched.



Our children did not
grow up in our father's
house

They are page space tagging
as they can

They are jam mix ripping
as they can

They are wry cyber sliding
as they can

They run the net
computers alone

They march.

i want to be alone

i want to be alone

lonely and cold.

feel the cold night air seep
under single covers

i have slept out my dreams

damp twice used towel
beneath my feet

i will do laundry today
or tomorrow.

to hear nothing when
the furnace kicks out
no rustling or pitter-pattering
no busy-ness no
fuss

being silent
listening

up and dressed,
packed for the day
leaving this room
closing the door
like a motel room
disappearing
when the door is closed

walking away,
through the lobby
of my own home
hoping not to
bump into
someone I know

i long to hear my own thoughts
without the guilt of
having to steal them
cold dark water runs
turning over tumbling
shy brook trout smiling
two loaves of fresh bread
give them both away and ask
what price the new rose
conical morel
capped elf dancing merrily
he was just right here

Monday, September 17, 2007

cold shoulder morning
winter wrestles throwing fall
sunshine breaks the hold
dawn's darkness threatens
promises of midday rain
sunshine afternoon
geese speaking from flight
dusk migrating to darkness
southern promises
soft cold rain declares
the turn of summer's last song
split oak embers dance