Ink in the Blood Posts

What a Gift

May

June

July

and then

there she was

sailing through

the door

in my arms

once more

no longer little

she’d jest driven

11 hours

from Texas

Home

racing her Daddy

down the interstate

when jest yesterday

she was driving me

round and round

the parking lot

and up the wall

and through

the neighborhood

and down the street

taller than me now

she laughed

and asked

have you shrunk !

yes

that’s what happens

when ‘ya get old

‘ya shrink

we share a laugh

like we do

her smile’s the same

with that same twinkle in her eye

she shows me her claws

and i look at ‘em

and nod

thinking ‘bout

when she was small

and how i clipped ‘em close

and painted ‘em Barbie pink

but 20 likes ‘em long

like pointy polished heels

with no pastel

she looks around

and says it feels like

she never left

but her hard hat

and steel-toe boots

tell another story

she’s been climbing

towers

and drafting specialized

diagrams

and giving presentations

and sitting in meetings

and coming up with solutions

and leading programs

and turning heads

and impressing the not so easily impressed

with her brilliant mind

and attention to detail

brains and beauty

and loves to laugh

she can read the room

and make sense of massive amounts of material

and comprehend it like a lawyer

she applies her insight

clear and concise

in a technical and efficient manner

like her Daddy does

they want her to come back

and intern next summer

and build her career there …

her life

she could take so many varied

paths …

med school

law school

PhD

build a business

a brand

be a model

be an artist

be a writer

or go straight to work

and climb the ranks

whatever it is… whatever she does

her purpose will find her

and she’ll give it a GO

give it all she’s got

and then some

and i’ll be as i’ve always been

amazed

and grateful

so grateful

for the gift

the wonderful gift

that is her

TL

Relationships

like is

a connection

but

love is

beyond connection

… it is essential

to the soul …

one can like someone

but not love them

or one can love someone

but not like them

… so

to like and to love

someone

is the ultimate lift

across time and space

and eternity …

it requires all of joy

and all of sorrow

rolling forth together

in continuous waves

like that

of the ocean

infinite and free

and beyond measure

… it is a letting go …

so it can come back

…

but maybe

the relationship

with one’s self

is the most healing one

of all …

to like and to love

yourself

is like holding

a master key

that opens

every door

until you reach

the One

that needs no key

…

for it is already

open …

and you just walk on

through

or roll or crawl

or get carried

TL

Grace

before

i knew

how

to pray

with words

my soul

knew how

in tears

a child cried

staring up at stars

the moon

looming large

how the rain

would fall

as if to say

you’re not alone

out of the same sky

the ray of the sun

would appear

each morning

and turn the sky pink

by evening

and out of the same sky

fell the snowflakes

covering the ground

like clouds over the blue

and even when

the sky turned gray

and a bolt of lightning

seared it

the sky would smile

back at me

in crayon colors

upside down

and in this space

i knew

that no matter

what

i’d make it

through …

even if

no one

was ever

there

the stars blinked

back

and winked

on water

like a diamond

cut from tears

TL

Swan

i saw her

just

yesterday

in a gym locker

room

in a moment

in time

harder than

most

we looked

at one another

taking stock

and we smiled

the same smile

without a mask

it was like

looking in

the mirror

seeing

a later version

down the road

perhaps

her hair

was styled

in a wavy gray bob

she had

a natural radiance

about her

an inner calm

that belied

ancestral strength

shorter in stature

yet a presence of purpose

her energy

flowed out

like the sea

reaching out to me

there were no words

exchanged

and yet

it was like

we were talking

the whole time

in a silent ancient language

and anyone observing us

in this moment

would have thought

she was my mother

and i

her daughter

for we looked

the same

moved through

the world

the same

sensing things

the same

…

maybe if

i see her

again

i’ll give her

this

…

and tell her

my story

how i was born

and never knew

my mother

but never

forgot about her

just carried her

within

all these years

searching the sea

the wind

TL

Monotony

movies

are a brief

escape

especially

the great ones

i can remember …

back in the day

taking college courses

in Vegas

and working

at Blockbuster Video

(before writing at the Mirage)

and how people

would make a bee-line

straight for the New Releases

you could feel the excitement

in the air

and hear the sound

of plastic movie covers

scraping against the shelves

as the first-come-first-serve

would quickly grab up the movie cases

behind the covers

and only then

would they relax

with the gold secured in hand

back then

they didn’t mind much

waiting in line …

this was their happy place

the beep beep of cases being scanned

and put in plastic bags

and told when they were due back

like a library book

and how this was the highlight

of so many lives

from so many different walks of life

and so many different ages

everybody knows

the power of great movies

what they can do

how they can lift you

away

from your worries

and make you forget

where you are

that’s movie magic at its very best

the storyline is the start

the way it’s delivered by the actors

the way it’s envisioned by the director

the way it’s cut with the score … music can say it all

a movie is an emotional ride

that people round the world

are willing to take

as evident

in the current

constant streaming

of movies worldwide

giving theatres

“a real run for the money”

nowadays a movie has to be

TITANIC

to make it worth it

to go and stand in a long line

to secure a ticket

in order to board

the ride

but if it’s great

really great

then it’s worth it

‘cause great movies

stay with ‘ya

long after

the credits roll

away …

TL

Angels

i go

there

trying

to find

you

…

some

part

of you

…

i roll

down

every

aisle

turn

every

corner

…

i know

you’re

not

there

but

i feel

your

spirit

down

every

row

…

so

i go

there

from time

to time

looking

for

you

there

…

but today

i didn’t go

inside

…

i didn’t

get outta

the car

i just sat

there

in the lot

for a while

and then

i left

…

TL

Lost

unto

the ocean

silver tears

turn time

to grain

and then

the rain

drips down

and disappears

the waves roll out

and roll back in

the grief too deep

to reach

TL

Windswept

ahhhhhhhh

the idea

of love

that Empire State

feeling

what a body

will do

fer it

love can

drive you mad

like the Mad

Hatter

in Wonderland

like Jack in Titanic

like Francesca

in Bridges

like Love Actually

like Mieke and Brandt

in The Exception

like Frank Farmer and Rachel Marron

in The Bodyguard

like Whitney Houston

like Cher

like Queen Bey

like Elizabeth Taylor

like Taylor Swift

like Britney Spears

“Baby One More Time”

like Pamela Anderson

like Maria Shriver

like Tina Turner

like Shania

like Mariah

like Molly and Frank

in Falling in Love

in Karen and Denys

in Out of Africa

like Father Ralph and Meggie

in The Thornbirds

like Edmond Dantes

in The Count of Monte Cristo

like Andy Dufresne

in Shawshank Redemption

like Michael

in The Reader

like Connie & Paul

in Unfaithful

like David and Diana

in Indecent Proposal

like Shelby in Steel Magnolias

like Noah & Allie

in The Notebook

like Mr. Darcy & Elizabeth

in Pride & Prejudice

like Frances

in Under the Tuscan Sun

like Somewhere in Time

like Past Lives

like Romeo & Juliet

like Pip in Great Expectations

like Arthur & Morgan

in The Road to Avalon

like Angela Nikolau

at the tippity top

of New York City

with the wind in her hair

and the sun

at her back

blinded by bling

willing to fall

fer it

…

fer dat

free-fall-feeling

of

l

o

v

e

TL

Reality

7 years

i cheered

for football

and basketball

was co-captain

junior year

and captain

senior year

but they never

once

saw me cheer

in 7 years

i had to beg

for a ride

to the games

from neighbors

and others

and catch a ride

back

dreading

what was waiting

…

behind the door

TL

Damage Done

the constant

crack of cans

opening

each one

thrown out

the back door

a collection

to crush

on a concrete floor

empty cases

of silver bullets

and then it begins

…

in the glassy eye

slurred speech

wobbled walk

spitting on the floor

spewing vile and hate

evil raging on a red face

things escalate

the feeling of doom descends …

everywhere

monsters are made

at the bottom of beer

cans

and hard liquor

bottles

alcoholics have no

recollection

of the destruction

but the child

in the corner

cannot forget

no matter how hard

they try

they cannot

forget

TL

Walking Away …

growing up

i took a lot

of walks

especially

in the flame

of summer

it was a way

to think

my own thoughts

and let go

of the breath

i’d been holding

as if i were under

water

walking was different

than running

i loved running

‘cause it felt like flying

but sometimes

i didn’t have it in me

to run

walking didn’t require

much

i could drag my feet

along

if it was too tough

to lift ‘em

off the ground

i’d take off walking

to each dead-end

sign

and turn back around

yearning for the quiet

of trees

there was no screaming

or constant cussing

no slamming doors

or flying objects

no broken glass

or violent fists

no silent tears

streaming down

the mirror

or seeping into the pillow

there was a stillness

in the grass

the wing of a bird

brushed against the sky

a pasture of horses

across the street

that knew me

knew somehow i needed ‘em

they’d stand out there

withstanding the worst

of weather

i’d watch ‘em

out the school bus

window

bracing for impact

whenever i took a walk

my walking always

led to them

and whenever they’d see me

coming down the road

they’d stop

whatever they were doing

and move toward me

in a graceful gait

they’d let me pet ‘em

on the head

and feed ‘em apples

they belonged to the people

who lived in the big ‘ole house

in the middle of a lot of land

edged by miles

of wooden fence

i would makeup stories

in my head

‘bout the folks who lived there

and they were always …

happy

i was a daydreamer

my whole life

no matter where i was

or what i was doing

alone or in public

i was daydreaming

it was a way

to cope with chaos

like all those walks

i took

down that long stretch of dirt

from one dead-end sign

to the other

and back around

to the pasture

where the unicorns

were waiting

for me

TL

Too Late for Tears

t

h

e

y

who go

unnoticed

unchecked

unhappy

behind

small smiles

they live their little lives

in an imaginary

world

created in the cracks

in the eruption

… the interruption

of childhood

p l a y

they never had

a chance

born into

traumatic

circumstance

too young

to get in a car

and drive away

too scared

to speak up

and say

too conditioned

to accept

the way it is

children don’t get

a chance to choose

how they are

raised

some get lucky

and make it

out …

but some

never get to leave

the black box

….

laid to rest

in a meadow

down

that knows no

walls

no doors

no locks

the wind blows

through

and through

TL

Avalon

snow in the sea

it glistens

like the rain

through the trees

a breath of frost

on the ground

high on the hill

the bells are ringing

an eternal spring

TL

Golden Boy

he felt

the earth

beneath his feet

along the rugged

trail of trees

each step

drawing him closer

and closer

to the center of his soul

as he climbs higher

and higher

to the summit

of a sunset

he is not alone

an Eagle flies overhead

beckoning him further

along

whenever he grows weary

he stops

and rests on a rock

a butterfly lands on his hand

resting, too

he can hear the chorus of birds

chirp

the squirrels scraping

against the bark

he listens to the quiet

of deer walking

sees the sunlight

dance with the wind

he makes his way to the river

and bends down

his cup runneth over

he watches diamonds

wink on water

the whisper of wildflowers

on the bank

a yellow leaf drops down

and floats on by …

he watches it

‘til it disappears

from sight

he feels free

happy within

he continues on

his path

he needs no map

at the crossroads

a little boy

looks back

stops and waves

before he takes off

flying

TL

Baloo Birthday

how is

the weather

there

it’s raining

here

the ground is

saturated

with a week of rain

since the sun

moved to Texas

on the second

in its 20^th year

we have to light candles

round here

to mimic the ray

a lamp over a plant

to keep it green

the rain to keep it

real

no rain … no roses

right

only in the silence

do you hear

sight and sound

the senses most profound

or is it feeling

encircled

and held

like a ring

eternal …

that you wear

within

no matter

where or when or why or what

or who

the ring is true … true love

is you

my beautiful baby

Baloo

TL

The Giving Tree

“once

there was

a tree …

and she loved

a little boy

and every day

the boy

would come

and he would

gather her leaves

and make them

into crowns

and play king

of the forest

he would climb

up her trunk

and swing

from her branches

and eat

her apples

and they would

play

hide-and-go-seek

and when

he was tired

he would sleep

in her shade

and the boy

loved the tree …

very much

and the tree

was happy

but time went by

and the boy

grew older

and the tree

was often alone …

… then one day

the boy came

to the tree

and the tree said,

‘come, boy,

come and climb

up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and eat apples

and play in my shade

and be happy’

‘I am too big

to climb and play,’

said the boy,

‘I want to buy things

and have fun

I want some

money

can you give me

some money’

‘I’m sorry,’

said the tree,

‘but I have no

money

I have only

leaves and apples,

take my apples, boy,

and sell them

in the city

then you will have

money

and you will be

happy’

and so

the boy climbed

up the tree

and gathered her apples

and carried them

away

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time …

and the tree was

sad

and then one

day

the boy came

back

and the tree shook

with joy

and she said,

‘come, boy,

climb up my trunk

and swing

from my branches

and be happy’

‘I am too busy

to climb trees,’

said the boy,

‘I want a house

to keep me warm,’

he said,

‘I want a wife

and I want children,

and so I need

a house

can you give me

a house?’

‘I have no house,’

said the tree,

‘the forest

is my house,

but you can cut

off my branches

and build

a house

then you will be

happy’

and so

the boy cut

off her branches

and carried them

away

to build his

house

and the tree was

happy

but the boy stayed

away

for a long time

and when

he came back

the tree was

so happy

she could

hardly speak

‘come, boy,’

she whispered,

‘come and play’

‘I am too old

and sad

to play,’

said the boy,

‘I want a boat

that will take me

far away

from here

can you give me

a boat’

‘cut down my trunk

and make a boat,’

said the tree,

‘then you can

sail away …

and be

happy’

and so

the boy cut down

her trunk

and made a boat

and sailed

away

and the tree was

happy

… but not really

and after a long

time

the boy came

back again

‘I am sorry, boy,’

said the tree,

‘but I have nothing

left

to give you –

my apples are

gone’

‘my teeth are too weak

for apples,’ said the boy

‘my branches

are gone,’ said the tree –

‘you cannot swing

on them’

‘I am too old

to swing on branches,’

said the boy

‘my trunk

is gone,’

said the tree,

‘you cannot climb –’

‘I am too tired

to climb,’

said the boy

‘I am sorry,’

sighed the tree,

‘I wish

that I could give you

something …

but I have nothing

left

I am just

an old stump

I am sorry …’

‘I don’t need

very much now,’

said the boy,

‘just a quiet place

to sit and rest

I am very

tired’

‘well,’

said the tree,

straightening herself up

as much as she could,

‘well, an old stump

is good

for sitting and resting

come, boy, sit down …

sit down and rest’

and the boy

did …

and the tree was …

happy”

By Poet Shel Silverstein

Adapt

with

the windows

down

rolled past

houses

and glimpsed

light pink

roses

climbing

a chain-link

fence

and somehow

they reached me

through the metal

without words

like a bird

in the rain

TL

IF

“if you can

keep your head

when all about you

are losing theirs

and blaming it

on you

if you can

trust yourself

when all men doubt you

but make allowance

for their doubting, too

if you can

wait

and not be tired

by waiting

or being lied about

don’t deal in lies

or being hated

don’t give way to hating

and yet

don’t look too good

nor talk too wise

if you can dream

and not make dreams your master

if you can think

and not make thoughts your aim

if you can meet

with Triumph and Disaster

and treat those two impostors

just the same

if you can bear

to hear the truth you’ve spoken

twisted by knaves

to make a trap for fools

or watch the things

you gave your life to

broken

and stoop

and build ’em up

with worn-out tools

if you can make

one heap of all your winnings

and risk it

on one turn

of pitch-and-toss

and lose

and start again

at your beginnings

and never

breathe a word

about your loss

if you can force

your heart

and nerve

and sinew

to serve your turn

long after they are gone

and so hold on

when there is nothing in you

except the Will which says to them

‘Hold on!’

if you can talk

with crowds

and keep your virtue

or walk with kings

nor lose

the common touch

if neither foes

nor loving friends

can hurt you

if all men count with you

but none too much

if you can fill

the unforgiving minute

with sixty seconds’

worth

of distance run

yours is the earth

and everything

that’s in it

and

which is more

you’ll be a man

my son”

Poet Rudyard Kipling

(i have lived every single syllable of this transforming poem since reciting it in a high school graduation speech in May of 1991 … 35 years ago … jest yesterday)

The Return

and low

after all

the weight of snow

and searing sun

wicked wind

and raging walls of water

lies a speck of sand

at the bottom

of the sea

were it dust

it would float on up

and away

to another land

in time

but circumstantial seas

buried it beneath

the depths of oceans

far and wide

forgotten there

over time

the bygone traveler

just begun

takes a turn round the bend

to sail the stars

in search of life

where it starts

where it ends

stirring up the surface

where the sun and moon

are mirrored

it leaves a wake

the speck of sand

then can take

to travel up

from the depths

through the coral reef

and strands of weed

to break the surface

like a wild whale

racing with the wind

one heads to the blue beyond

the other to the shore

where castles

there

are built by hand

in a magic winter

wonderland

TL

he’s gone …

with the wind

TL

(Nov. 19, 1938 – May 6, 2026)