Tulle
the ruffle of the waves
the longest train
of dress
could I walk
forever
in it
TL
Tulle
the ruffle of the waves
the longest train
of dress
could I walk
forever
in it
TL
Connected
a flock of yellow
leaves
just flew across
my window
wonder where they’ll land
maybe one will wind up
in small hands
and they’ll know just what to do
adults tend to step on leaves
or sweep them away
like trash
children are different
they pick them up
and make them new again
and twirl them in the air
and take them home
to keep forever
traced on paper
and shaded
in color
the veins of a leaf
uncovered
like the roots of a tree
that slowly grew
up
TL
Thoughts
and everything
that was
was no more
this is hard
for the thinker
to accept
things need to make sense
death does not
make sense
to appear
one day
only to disappear
another
to love
and feel everything
then nothing
to love someone
you can’t bear to leave
or ever live without
but you have no choice
in it
what agony is this
to leave
and be left
mere mortals
live knowing
their ending
is tied to their beginning
there is a returning
a pause
and we fill up our time
with everything
and anything
to avoid
this knowing
what thinkers know
but could not
and cannot
comprehend
as those before
those here
and those after
could not
cannot
and will not
comprehend
we connect
through time
in our thoughts
in being
as we are
sleeping then
is a gift
given
how else then
could we bear
it
for in slumber
deep beyond
we can forget
for a while
what in waking
we cannot
TL
Spring
and
then
after all
you wind up
in a music box
closed
or in some mill
of wind
wandering
or in a dibber of dirt
where seeds go
not to die
but to live
TL
Imprint
walking
down the path
the crunch of snow
the feeling of forever
frozen
like a deer in the distance
watching
already the icicles are dripping
and it is green again
the first flowers open up
a butterfly appears
and reappears
baby birds high in the tree
waiting
the seed low in the ground
growing wild hair
in a garden square
there are no lines
a bridge over water
lily pads and swans
buzzing bees and chirping crickets
ants and gnats, flies and fleas
ticks
the oceans are warming
sand is turning
it’s busy on the street
under the shade of a tree
time slows
the leaves are yellow
like the moon
a restless rustle in the wind
side-step the puddle
up the way
there’s a little bird standing in the sunlight
its small head raised
still as a statue
like a prayer
then it feels my stare
in a glance
gone
TL
Lost
there’s a
gray kitten
in a concrete cave
starving
there’s a chicken joint
across the street
a grocery store to the right
a bank to the left
but money’s no use
this creature is a casualty
of circumstance
fear of the unknown
keeps it frozen
it drinks the rain
and watches wheels go by
were it grown
it could hunt
somehow survive
there’ll be Christmas music
playing soon
on every street corner in town
high above
the concrete cave
where wheels go by
TL
For Grace
if you
continually destroy
the innocence
of a child
you know not
what you do
the trauma turns
the child
into an adult
immediately
an adult incapable
of trust
like a stray
out on the street
that runs away
when you try to call it
and give it some food
and water
a safe place
it just keeps running
into blackness
far from the love
it never knew
were it not for
grace
TL
True
rich or poor
old or young
throughout history
in times of war
in times of peace
in every country
the edge of the sea
the cliff
from the prairies
to the palace
tiny towns
big cities
remote villages
in the middle of nowhere
on a trail
looking up
at the stars
down at the dirt
all of us search
and some of us
find it
and some of us
just don’t
some settle
or give up
or have no idea
it can even exist
like that
it’s different for each
of us
so many songs bleed
so many books tell
so many movies feel
and a rich man would give it all up
a poor man die trying
a woman walks the floor
pacing down the aisle
with her roses
trembling
when she reaches the end
and stands there looking back
at winter on the ground
at fall whirling in the wind
at spring opening up
at summer burning hot
will she smile
or will she weep
maybe both
did she find it
after all
did he
TL
Stages
there’s an
empty space
where grass now grows
10 decades ago
there was a house
there
in that empty space
where grass now grows
there were ruffled curtains hanging in the kitchen
dishes in the cupboard
furniture heavy on the floor
art on the walls
flowers in the vase
food on the table
candles lit and blown out
doors opening and closing
little paws tap tapping
music good music
voices in the hall
loud laughter
silent tears
brushing teeth
and washing faces
changing clothes
and shoes
writing and reading
watching and listening
making and breaking
planning and packing
messes to make and clean up
washing and wearing and washing and wearing
taking things down and putting things up
lying down
and getting back up
turning the water on
and turning the water off
like the lights
and the stove
alarms
and timers
the television
each room
had something unique to say
something old or new
like a play up there on stage
the cast and crew
the story based on a book
narration
opening scene
I Act
intermission
II Act
intermission
III Act
no intermission
the curtains close
the house lights come on
and go dark
the seats sit empty
like the room
the house
everybody left
they all left
and went home
TL
Tiger Woods
I never ever
really
wear red
preferring black
or gray
but today
I wear
RED
TL
Restoration
the ash
has been swept
the rains
have come
and gone
like footsteps
on the street
the rise and fall
like the sun winking awake
and the moon yawning to sleep
wherever in the world
the remains
keep
preserved in the memory of the mind
the heart of a child
TL
When She Was
the princess
at the pond
stood in stone
at the end
of the path
a row of red roses
in her wake
she was once
so young
and beautiful
but over time
the seasons
overtake
summer and winter
so different and so the same
had left her
faded
forgotten
all but the butterflies
remained
as the leaves fell
into the pond
like petals
from a flower
her statue a shadow
in the sun
a silhouette
by the moon
TL
Revision
contained
wrapped within
people in their places
mostly lost
found
sucker for a story
the first page
not the last
I like beginnings
where it’s possible
and easy
all the mess in the middle
skip that
I hate roller coasters
and the way it ends
endings are so final
a tiny dot
.
at the end of a sentence
that had so much to say
but ran out of space
I love happy endings
not the sad ones
like Titanic
I hate that movie
every time I watch it
unsettled
what happened to the magic
the magic in the movie
the story
the script
the revision
Jack lives
he gets to live
why didn’t he
get to live
where was the edit
the final edit
somebody sick that day
he should have lived
Jack …
and his Happily Ever After
with Rose …
I hate that movie
and that stupid song Celine sings
.
TL
The Stone
the fade
of light
natural
artificial
or otherwise
the curtain falls
when it falls
in all stages
big or small
the progression
of time
turns us all
over
and
over
and
over
like a stone in a tumbler
polished
after the turbulence
the grit is gone
like the mud it laid under
silent
inside the stone
a million stars spill out
like sunlight on the sea
glimmering
TL
In the Night
inside
the glow
of a winter white
rose
I climbed
a spiral staircase
and found
a thousand years
sound asleep
at the bottom
of a weeping
well
in slumber
I woke up
and walked
in circles
searching for
the switch
that would turn on
all the lights
and in the darkness
of the night
I stumbled
over the moon
TL
From Tee to Green
you push
a giant toothpick
in the ground
and place a ball
on top of it
and grip the leather
and take a practice swing
‘til you hear it sing
then into position
your body
and mind
and so it would seem
to the spectator eye
such a simple thing
to get from tee
to green
in short order
and repeat it
year after year
no matter the weather
the up and down
the hazards
but a glimpse
of what you see
on tv
or around a tournament town
doesn’t begin
to graze the surface
the struggle within
there are so many elements
in play
that test who you are
who you think you are
what you’re capable of
what you think you’re capable of
and in those hours
of bend and build
there is a quiet
in the dew drop mornings
the biting frost to blazing heat
the torrential rain to not a drop
the barely a breath to whipping gusts
the blue skies to crackling thunder
the dusk to dark
it’s all there
on courses long and short
the lessons
the private lessons
unending
the reassessment
the adjustment
the learning and re-learning
the simplifying
becoming less
becoming more
constantly evolving
continually revolving
from the ground
up
TL
Blue Roses
shopping
for groceries
but lost in the flowers
veered over
to the boxes of boutonnieres
lined up on the shelf
like mini black caskets
these weren’t the plastic pathetic kind
the box said real
behold a blue rose
that never dies
ironically the rose will last
a long, long time
so long as
you keep it away from the rain
and the sun
perfectly preserved petals
that never age
or crumble
embalmed beauty
for the masses
not even a rose can die
naturally
‘cause of shoppers like me
who buy up all three
TL
Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood
as an orphan
from Korea
i learned English
stateside
from Mr. Rogers
my first mentor
and the kindest man
i ever knew
TL
The Lake
the road
is the same road
nothing’s changed
about it
in 20 years
only my shadow
has
it used to fly down the road
with a hummingbird heart
before the coffee was brewed
and the dogs barked
then down to the dock
the stillness of the water
rippled only by a fish
or a turtle peering up
or a bass boat crawling by
I’d stare at the water
like some stare at fire
thinking or not thinking
that’s the part
that hasn’t changed
TL
Your Own Table
there’s some
thing
about cooking
your little meal
in your little kitchen
that makes it
a little more
fulfilling
TL