Saturday, July 25, 2015


Must not forget them,
those things rotting in you.
All that leave you
stuck in the mote.
Language is lost
in the dark corner!
Just move
the expired milk
over to the left
and you will discover
the perfect remedy
for hunger or malaise
isn't last night’s
buffalo chicken salad,
your father’s
veal parmigiana
or your daughter’s
cheese pizza,
but all that have
stood neglected
in the back waiting
to be finally let go of
or perhaps to be relished
for the last time—
for it wasn't hunger
that woke you up
in the middle of the night
but the middle, the marrow
of rushing memories.

Monday, July 13, 2015

The Missing Year

I hopscotch the days
In my mind
Watching my wobbly legs
Barely keep balance
As I reach down painfully
For the shiny stone

I stitch the gaping holes with
Threads from old garments

Tether ropes between fence poles
To hang colorful 
Tibetan prayer flags
Spin the prayer wheel
& chant

How beautiful the colored fabrics are
Dancing with light and clouds

But it’s like skipping 
A whole chapter in a book
Fast forwarded and incomplete
Try to figure out  what   where    how

Foreshadowed character flaw
Spelled out on page one

Truth eludes me
When I think of that time
I lose balance
Drop my foot and start all over
Repeat all the bad parts

Keeps tripping me up
Won’t let me reach SKY