that summer
was a wishing well

golden coins -
we threw ourselves
in sacred water

splashing gods
to tell them

we are here

a death

quiet and still,

preferred for the space

it creates

the oddity

of being broken

when joy fills the cracks

between pieces

loose gravel -

the unsure ground

we stand on


#3lines

the way we measure

time between

writing each letter,

this unmarked page

has grown into a year

on days as cold

as a heartless lie

I take small bites

of the sun 

and pretend it isn't getting

any darker

Worth the While of Questions

the questions make it
worthwhile

why else do we
wipe our feet
on the welcome mat of
a warm sand shore

look through an ocean
of everything

waiting without taking
a step

  lest we drown in ambiguities

seeing if the distance
between the ends
has squeezed together

the back door
becomes the front door and
we pass through
an amusement park

where barkers bark
the challenge of a mental game

  step up and give the answer

we pay whatever they ask
throw whatever they place
in our hands

so we do quick calculations
and throw
and recalculate
an imagined success
and the over-sized prize
of a fuzzy bear stuffed with
every answer from
a foreign shore
while

plastic rings spin above
to and from glass bottle
to glass bottle
touching
deflecting
never choking
their empty necks

answers bounce
bounce
making a wonderful ping
ping
delighting the ears but
throw as many rings
as you like 
it's rigged
the angle's wrong
the rings are undersized
the words were poured out
before you ever got up that morning

leaving an empty space
of swarming motions

  unoccupied
  unattached

to anything that would take
the need of
our questions
away

Change

I walked in circles to the corner

to ease my pain.

Folks stared at display windows

stiff legged

looking for change.

Particulars

what are the particulars
     exactly
of imagination
that bleed so real
so far away
from flowing
veins

Wall

we've all climbed that wall

looking over

strained

to see a different madness

mine is so ordinary


#5lines

Wand

the white haired wizard
forgot his spell -
waved his wand
in the air
to no effect

Dirt

we survey the land

carve out dirt

what is ours

will own us

one day

#5lines #tanka

Cardboard Boxes

the move is done,
from may to july,
from country to city,

cardboard boxes taped full
of stuff you forgot you
ever owned or regretted
buying
on sale
had to have
garage sale deal

better off without
if only there was an available
dumpster

for the bullshit.

endless forms and papers
that protect banks and
mortgage lenders
from losing their precious pennies
they want to lend to you with
a smile
and a blue ball point pen.

borrowed and leased
vehicles, some packed efficiently,
others
oh fuck, let's get this over with,
shifting contents with every turn
and sudden stop, damn, this 
is a big truck to empty
again
again, again...

you get it.

now, we're all happy
to be in the Village that's
really a city
with its back end butted
against
that east cleveland blight,

they say.

I don't know.

seems pretty good here,
that popular buzz about
diversity -
every gender identity and race with
healers and poets,
transcendental dopers, old lady
dog walkers scooping
fresh fecal lumps from the neighbor's
tree lawn,

young black couples - boy and boy,
girl and girl - holding hands skipping
down the street
singing a song, they think
oz is up the incline and around
the corner, they
don't care (why should we),

the overstuffed transvestite top has
five o'clock shadow and
wants to fight
anyone
who says otherwise,

and too fast drivers from stop
sign
to stop sign
on the phone 'cuz Lord knows
your life is so small you
better fill it with blah-blah-blather
like a
wide-eyed
epicurean got his hands on an
all you can eat without getting
sick buffet.

the boxes are now
in every room of the new house,
undecided about where they'll stay
or go.

burn 'em, I say,
for a fresh
start.

Tomorrow

tomorrow -

a presumption held lightly

while we make

a mad dash through

today

Deciding

neither day

nor night

between two worlds

the descent

the rise

deciding in the pause