Almost Invisible

No outstanding warrants on me

I need to commit a crime

Because no one knows me

Somebody has always done worse

Dad never missed knowing

I could have done better

Five friends at his funeral

Never heard of me.

I was the smoke in the censer

Shook over his casket

Every morning shower, I make plans

To change the course of history

Every evening home, I’m shattered

Seeking the glue of vodka

I can’t sow peace in my garden

Without killing seedlings

And mutating every myth of life

Somewhere between skin and muscle

Is the malignant cancer of a lie

Somewhere between eye and sole

Is the expanse of hope.

Comments

Love

Unbroken smooth between before after bruises bashes and shatters Beyond humid shocking kisses rather a cool lasting that matters. You are the one safe place I know. Fingertip gravity cheeks to lips Returning coming going and home Never leaving steadfast praying grips the exploding expanse of a poem. You are what I will never give up. Arlington to Golgotha, offices to factories Shoulder in, eyes forward, chin up Quiet unspoken shared stories lingering lost ring of a coffee cup. You are my favorite ghost. (written for One Single Impression) http://onesingleimpression.blogspot.com/

An Atlas and a Box of Crayons

Apprehending the Atlas, Pondering its problems. Its all wrong. Stay calm world, I've got this. Got a box of Crayolas. Look from the box to the map. Is sixty-four enough? There's a lot of work to do. Colored wax to the rescue! Where to start? Where to start? Where to start? Big problems. That's it. Hot spots. Get them fixed. Jerusalem. Everyone wants it. Jews. Muslims. Christians. We take complex toys from toddlers and shelve them So, out goes Jerusalem. (I'm going to need the Holy Blue Uh, Cerulean? Close enough) Where to put it? Greenland! Perfect. Plop it down. The Dome of the Rock. The Wailing Wall and the Church of the Holy Sepulchre resting on glaciers and Inuit bones. Denmark controls Greenland? Whoops, sorry about that Danes. Think of the tourism A hundred million pilgrims are pointed your way. You might want to put on the coffee. Australia catches my eye. It looks suspicious loitering down there in the corner All of th

Standing on Laguna Beach with the Ocean behind Me

The Pacific pitches a fit behind me as if someone in Japan snapped their end of the sheet and fired a rolling riot of wet over the earth to crash into the edge of Laguna. Laguna splays out from the sand between my toes It seeps and spreads and the piles and agglomerates from the beach to the boardwalk into the streets and through the shops up, up over the steep hills and out through the canyon road. I'm stretching my eyeballs I'm trying to see through it all Straight, right on through, across the continent all the way home to Connecticut. That's when Laguna stops being Laguna and I see it for what it is... the edge of America. Coming back toward me, from the east, and beating back my sight right into my eye sockets, is the whole of history. An impenetrable phalanx A phalanx of hominids but its not a parade. There's no order to it. Just the chaos of America. All of it. The Chumash, Pomo and Salinan bleed right through the Navaho and Apache.

Bare Feet and Feathers

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