day ten

Then Came the Rain
After sunny beginnings
then came the rain -
outrageous, terrifying downpour
glorious as a tidal wave.
Laughing - dancing - washing clean
the flooded sidewalks and the soul.
Inviting any excuse to run
hard - far enough to hurt - not caring
but caring about everything.
Soaking - up to the knees,
ruining shoes, but mending hearts.
Each lightning bolt tearing apart
the kaleidoscope of colored clouds,
every thunder crash trumpeting
the arrival of a future earth and sky.
The brave few fought the elements,
but the rarer breed pressed in - smiling
as the wind pushed back.
Intensity that could not sustain
lasted just long enough to renew
and remind one of the power -
beauty - passion of the thunderstorm.

day nine

The Middle
I have the beginning.
I have the end.
It's the middle
that's hard to rhyme.
Like the fourth - the fifth -
the sixth innings
or the second quarter
of a really good joke.

I followed the train
to the edge of town,
but the circus left last week.
(I remember something about
the journey of Odysseus)
Time is money
and I'm running short on both.

day eight

Homage
i walk in conversation,
a fairer stroll than most -
eating peaches - on beaches
and stopping to notice details
like a spider, or a star.
the path tears across an old brick wall
towards the end of town, i dream
of london - paris - cairo - rome.
and then we'll run, you and i
spread out against the sky
like cold turkey (with swiss)
and tomato - on rye.

day seven

[untitled]
mY COMPuTer ate mY POeM
i shOuld Have knOwn it wOulD
the One wiTH all the PrOmise, too!
(sHe ate iT Because sHe could.)
i DiDn'T sTarT on PaPer and sHe
TaugHT THis TruTH TO me:
always begin wiTH Pencil and
dOn'T TrusT BlinD PenelOPe.

day six

Aurora Borealis
The shouting of the sky awakened me -
the declaration of illumination
across my shrouded window.

Roused from one dream
and falling into another,
I held my breath and moved closer.

Luminescence firmly expressing
a choreography imprinted in my memory,
igniting a message for the world.

Awed - moved - changed
like the moment you first realize
that you are alive and animate and living.

Not even poetry can do justice
to the night the sky split open
and the heavens came out to play.

day five

Bellerophon
Where is my Chimaera
and what is your secret?
Yours is the outline
of an unwritten American Tragedy.

Son of divinity,
imprisoned in Egypt,
haunted by my oldest fear.
Can you interpret my dreams?

You dream of bridling the untameable,
Oh wandering and lonely hero.
Soaring high towards Olympus
but falling back to me.

day four

r u there?
the greats are history,
anyone can be an
author now. they draw
from their skill and knowledge,
i draw on myself.

baseball, stage, river, race.
my metaphor
and meaning is found
in comic strips
and mtv skits.

life is not an act
of Shakespeare or a
step of Eliot's Journey.
let's go to the mall.

day three

All My Poetry
All my poetry reads
like poor prose.
I cannot abstract or
symbolize this life.

Homer wrote the Epics,
Shakespeare wrote:
"Words, Words, Words."
I just write
complete sentences.

But, a poem should not
simply be a sentence
with extra spaces.
Or can it?

day two

End of Summer
It's 12:05
and Fall now.
Summer fading,
the bottle empty
like the pen I'm digging
through my purse to find.

I pass up an empty pack of
cloves, old kleenex,
and a broken bottle of
my favorite perfume.

What was the point?
What is the point?
I was, am, a better person
but not always happy.
Fall is not the same as
Summer, though built
on it's euphoric highs.

She's falling,
the leaves. Why?
The wood floor,
burning logs,
dangling girl.

Fall: to the ground,
out of love, on a map,
into reality, towards a
challenging point/change
of season.

day one

Backyard
My Hands are cold.
My Hands look out
over the grass and see
a possum, staring back.
We both play dead.

There is no Fire tonight:
holding, teasing, accompanying,
Laughter and Melody.
But there is Truth, Goodness,
and Beauty under the stars.

Taste the huckleberries,
then the chocolate, then Honesty.
It catches us and settles in for
that walk home to reality.
My Hands like the cold.