You dreamed of seeing me up there,
Alas, I never made it;
I moved beyond, to other things,
And your hopes slowly faded
Oh yes, you had so many plans
For this fly in the ointment:
I was a minor talent, but
A major disappointment
A profound thought occurred to me,
Although it’s a tautology,
And that’s that we will always be
Just what we are: humanity —
The arguments that we’re drawn in
Of sex or sect, of class or skin
Are such that we can never win
And really, what they’ve always been:
Excuses. With our eyes turned out,
We void humility and doubt
That late, could help us turn about
And start a loving plant to sprout —
Because we’re human, we can be
So many things, but we are free
To stretch our moral paucity
With faith and hope and charity
when the lines are angled in,
don’t pretend you’re lonely;
when the pattern’s closing in,
don’t put on you’re sad —-
light does as it always does,
friendship is, where effort was,
though the lines be sharpened in,
much is to be had
if we see that image is
little more than lies;
when we see the way is ours,
then, to our surprise,
we can read between the lines
past our fear, and doubt —-
for the lines that angle in
also angle
out
In the fading light of tomorrow,
Every wish gets weighed with great precision
On the edge of the lonely island,
Where the river fluxes into indecision
And I wander along the cliffside,
Hoping to find a sign to use, or borrow —
But there’s nothing but gold, and rhythm,
In the fading light of what’s left of one
Tomorrow
so many visions fractured, things
i don’t remember making,
ideas formed before
i knew to say, “remember
that you made these.”
lost and broken
so now, the days of aging,
not a super-sleuth or power-broker,
just a group of limitations
smelling like
the summer came too soon.
i see, though, now
that what is not ideal
can still be interesting;
and that where
warm small moments flow
they flow for you and me
so close your eyes, lay back
and let me trace along with fingertips
the outline of
the pressures you have lived,
those long inhabitants
let me release them from your skin,
for though we need not trade the good for bad,
we can accept the good,
when all the moments
just become the one
this moment
for all time
and by these candles
let us turn to smoke
to smoke and water blending
liquid light
that burns and
rises higher
Blazing on the purple sea
Waves of endless ecstasy
Washing over you and me
Soothing all our sores
Sun is setting finally
Blazing on the purple sea
Reaching its maturity
Burning to our cores
Days spent in futility
Striving for utility
Blazing on the purple sea
Trying to fight complacency —
When it rains, it often pours
Hopes and waves come back in scores
Maybe there’s yet victory
Blazing on the purple sea
Some people say that where they are
Is where they’re meant to be;
For years, I never understood –
Those comments puzzled me
Sometimes, you’re down and desperate,
As I was, long ago:
I saw no reason at the time
Why it needs must be so
For almost thirty years ago
I tried to end my life;
I never would have known my kids
My grandchildren, my wife –
I never would have typed these words
That you are reading now;
I would have been a nobody,
A nothing. A no how —
I couldn’t find a reason,
Couldn’t generate a spark
To see me through the nightscape;
Through the hopeless, whirling dark
But somehow, day led on to day;
And I regained my voice.
Then I decided living
Was my only living choice
I do not know where you might be,
How your life’s filled with pain;
I do not know the grief you’ve felt,
And that, I will not feign —
But this I tell you, reading friend:
There is, most times, a light:
So you can climb the hill ahead,
And fear
No more
The night
(“Nightscape” – 7-1-2015)
You think about it all the time,
But never have you said
The weight you carry in your heart,
The words within your head —
But in the morning, hard and gray,
You’ve known these secret pains
Then covered up the traces,
All the bruises and the stains.
To all the world you’ve shown a face
You’ve painted on for show,
But that’s become habitual;
Now, everywhere you go,
You just display the sunlight.
You’re a beacon mid the rains,
And no one sees the leakage,
Or the bleeding, or the stains.
It doesn’t matter anyway.
You know that’s how you think —
And when you seem on edge, I know
You’re really on the brink —
Why is it that you won’t come clean?
There really is no knowing,
But maybe you’ll see hope to know
Your stains at last
Are showing
let not hope disappear
though chill be in the air:
the winter may be here,
but the garden is
still there
