After
happy
is all
anyone
is after
and we,
all of us,
have had
it
in some
shape
at some time
somewhere
and once
you’ve felt
it
it’s all
you want
out of this
this thing
we call
life
for happy
is all
anyone
is after
TL
Poetry
After
happy
is all
anyone
is after
and we,
all of us,
have had
it
in some
shape
at some time
somewhere
and once
you’ve felt
it
it’s all
you want
out of this
this thing
we call
life
for happy
is all
anyone
is after
TL
Nobody
were always
with somebody
would you
know anybody
everybody says
they’re fine
everything’s fine
but everybody lies
on the street
the mailman with his wave
the mother with her buggy
the old man with his cane
the little boy with his eyes
the lady with her dog
the rich man with his money
the poor man with his pockets
the widow with her house
the out-lived with their hours
the short-lived with their moment
the white-collar with their gloves
the blue-collar with their hands
the neighbors with their smile
the crowd with their voice
the singers with their song
yeah, they all belong
TL
Places
dropped
t i m e
in the Pacific
and swam away
away to Kilimanjaro
but there’s
a grain
in my eye
that got stuck
in the recess
and it swims
in the puddles
each time …
a body dies
a bottle breaks
a ring doesn’t fit
or a child is
no longer
TL
Midst
thieve
an hour
TL
Revolve
it was
morning
where she was
in the world
and her porcelain cup
a plastic jug
she’d drag for dregs
and lug it lukewarm
same as her mom
and it was fun
as a child
to run to the well
up and down
the hill
barefoot
and all
TL
Freeze
what stops
someone
what leaves
them there
to sit in snow
so long
when winter
left
long ago
why then
do you sit
there
in icicle
a black and white
shot
when over
the hill
there are bluebells
and buttercups
and birds bursting
with song
and color captured
in light
why then
do you sit
so long
TL
Just
the last piece
of pie
dried flowers
revived
the whirl
of the dryer
the sound
of running shoes
feeding
the birds
the length
of a road
rain falling
on a field
mountains
in steam
the ocean
still big
church bells
ringing
good sleep
all night
a book
you’d read again
understanding
being understood
dropping your plans
to play
pouring batter
in a pan
turning off the camera
to be there
making up the bed
messing it up
sharing a meal
with someone
taking a song
in
picking a plum
off the tree
not having to say
a thing
TL
Bridal Blessing
When the moon is about
and the stars are many
and the silhouette, in the window,
is two …
be at peace
When the moon is missing
and the stars away
and the silhouette, in the window,
is one …
be at peace
For night is a stranger
to none …
keep your candles close
your memories closer
And remember always
the face of the moon,
the promise of a star
are never really missing …
are never really away
just under the veil
of clouds
TL
Funeral
she looked
same as she did
30 years ago
and with her
ready smile
she pointed out
her three
grown sons
her only daughter
and introduced
her teen grandkids
and on the surface
she seemed fine
as she waved to folks
she knew
who knew her
but her hands
kept fidgeting
with the sack
on her lap
she used
as her purse
and her eyes
darted around the room
seeming to see
everything
in slow motion
“This must be hard for you,” I say.
“Yes … it is,” she says. “You never get over it.
You go through all the emotions. I was angry for a long time.
Sometimes, I’ll be somewhere and something
reminds me of him, and I cry.”
she tells me how she still drives by her old house
the one she brought him home to …
the one he grew up in
became a young man in
and she can still see him out in the yard
playing basketball with his brothers
can see him under the hood with his dad
can see him sitting on the porch
can see him backing out of the drive
can see him waving back to her
can see him …
TL
Hours
he sits
in his chair
feet in the air
picks up a cup
and sets it down
punches the mote
and picks up the ring
says, “Hello …”
says, “Goodbye …”
picks through the page
scans the segment
lies back with a sigh
and closes his eyes
wakes up when
and walks around
tile to tile
then back down
sits in his chair
feet in the air
TL
Impasse
the shutter
against
white brick
is blue
and slats
are missing
out of it
like teeth
and it’s the only one
like that
left of the pane
and it’s funny how
your eye passes
over the intact
but barely budges
past those
missing slats
TL
Bulbs
in daffodil
light
the earth
seems warmer
somehow
and the books
easier to read by
and the pain
not so
and when you
twirl the tiny shade
in your tiny hand
the light bounces
between us
TL
Comeback
days before
you died
heard you
sing
“I look to You …”
and it was
the Whitney
of my youth
come back
to me
TL
The Rose
to behold
the blush
of a rose
and long for
a permanent
stain
is to stand
in the sameness
of the sun
and drink the milk
from the moon
and leave the night
without speck
and the day
without drop
and the land
without tree
then what
could there be
for the me
that is you
and the you
that is me
TL
Certainty
beneath the bough
the smallest bird
doth lilt
that you might hear it
in your sleep
and in your waking
that it might reach you
at the highest peak
or the valley low
or there almost
and like a memory
like the mist
there is no
before or after
no retreat … return
there is only
a continuum
TL
Courage
last night
the lamps shown soft
in her window
like so many nights before
and the tracks nearby
lay rusted with wear
and the two-lane street
could take you
one way or the other
the difference between
night and day
and together they spoke
without words
for he’d take her place
if only he could
and the prayers went up
to Heaven
like so many there before
for how does anyone, anywhere
out there
face the courage of cancer
without a fountain
of ever-flowing Faith
TL
Chevy Blue
textbooks
and term papers
spilled coffee
and juice
Georgia commute
part-time
full-time
real-time
my golden dog
and drive-thrus
that turning ticket
that brake check on campus
that dent in the back
that song on crack
that tire going flat
wind thru the window
rain in my hair
that silent stare
no coin nor care
broke AC
locked out
locked in
automatic to manual
torn at the seam
twice towed
perpetually late
zillion mistakes
bags and buggies
plants and poems
donut donations
homeless help
first story
last
somewhere to be
nowhere to go
empty and full
backing out
moving forward
review mirror
yeah, I hear ya
volume down
quiet raised
lane change
belly to baby
her eyes in my mirror
his kiss on my lips
yard sales with Granny
potatoes and gravy
memory a mile
sighs and sorrow
be better
tomorrow
TL
Flow
took a walk
in the sand
and wrote
your name
by hand
and bit
by bit
the letters
sipped
into the sea
where all names go
to be
TL
Canvas
she painted
this picture
some lady named,
Faye …
not know
not spoke
not wrote
not broke
yet does one
have to
know or speak or write or break
to meet another
on the way
of which
there was
no claim
this brown basket
weaved in brush
carefully constructed
and artfully construed
to stand ever
on its own
with or without
weight
in this sublime state
a decided stroke
was made
to fill the empty space
with wild vines
white with bloom
that, over time, would
ripen red
TL
More or Less
mid the morning
rain
the flags hang
like wet feathers
and the streets
are high gloss
and the guy crossing it
is baptized
on his bald head
and the lights
are blinking red
and the woods
are wet
with spring
and the fruit
in the bin
is turning …
like a woman
like a man
peeling back
to core
before there was
a layer
or a shape
or a shade
or a scent
before there was
more or less
TL