Wednesday, October 21, 2009

the decision tree

a reflection in a passing current,
today's hobo, yesterdays ashes, tomorrows time.
the path was a trap, it was the illuminated face that dictated the choice.
the choice was a vixen and the reward was light.

the bridge was the path less traveled by,
one, two, three steps.
hanging, splashing in troubled waters.

how clean a body must be to enter your house.

tea time


table side alone
downward chord progressions
cup in hand, empty holding onto warmth.


the glue, yourself to yourself.
the boat in the waves of uncertainty
the anchor abandoned at another port.

Tuesday, October 6, 2009


this is the conversation that finished the lessons poem. all i did was say "no" to atticus

"why don't you just take a breath, and maybe a sip and just give me what i want?"

"what DO you want?"

"those pumpkin knives. i promise, i won't get dead."

"Atticus, where did you come from?"


"i came from the garden."

odd lessons for children ages four & two

Are YOU really my teacher

i am always one of your teachers,

i am your mother.

We have nothing to hold, nothing to make the music!

our instruments cannot be held, without a bottle to catch the echos.
we'll escape, if only through a crack above the blades of laughter...

from the grass shoots souls and shoes; in a sudden void we format
the traces of red under the nightingales song.
giving too, my everything.

think safe, be safe;
grace is the choas and torture of what's left behind.
think box, act out;
the moment rides on a lark, and the impulse bites.

the sun softens yeilding to the moon,
bearing the weight of the world, resting uopn a ring and a whim
with the promise, the light will come again.