Revised-- You Poem 3

Continue on

Continue on trekking little ant,

Carry your crumb to sanctuary.

It’s closer than you think.

Revised-- Imagistic Poems

A Dying fly

On thin wings a fly spins

Like a child’s top

An Icicle

An icicle drips high above

A windshield;

Three feet of sculpted water

Dripping profusely.

Old Christmas Lights

Some bulbs of blinking white hang

Around rusted metal railings.

Two broke.

An Old Sock

Once sky blue, now grayed,

Ankle sock lies; half covered

By new snow.

Revised-- Fatherhood

Fatherhood

I watched as my son leapt,

Arms following the oil-weathered ball

As it coasted in an arch just over my extended reach

Through the slightly misshapen, flaking hoop.

His bright hazel eyes looked up at me (but no so far as before)

Through his thick brown mop of young hair.

An uninhibited smile stretched full, revealing

His boyish dimples, yet a man’s voice,

Cracked with elation, reaches my ears. 

This came sooner than I thought it would

I thought it impossible to be true, but then

I felt the stiffness in my joints as I stared at him,

Hopping in place on fresh, lightly haired knees.

With a heart splitting between joy and sorrow,

I held out the ball to my son, waiting for his grasp.

Game. 

Revised-- Stained

Stained

On this still night, no car is coming or going,

There is only a woman standing on the

Uneven shoulder of this back road.  Larger swells

Of air are tempting to lift her from the spot.

She can only imagine the sound of the impact,

Metal crushing his weaker metal.  The exclamations

Of drivers muffled by highly pressurized air.

As he stood and fell, walked and crawled away from

The twisted remnants of his car, past the faded white line,

What was foremost on his blood-filled mind?

Did he cry out for a miracle as his heart drained into

The asphalt?  Of her waking to the ringing of the phone

In the dark?  Of the children pulling at the ties around their throats?

She will never know.  So here she kneels down,

Running her fingers across the dark red stain;

The sound of her sobs unheard

In the dark expanse all around her. 

Revised You Poem 5

My Boy 

I just want you to know that,

You look good in the Easter suit

Mr. Simmons dressed you in.

I took it from your room yesterday.

Don’t worry, I didn’t move any of your things.

Everything will stay just as you left it.

I know you hate red flowers,

But this rose would look

Beautiful lying against your quiet chest.

Will you wear it for me?

...I’ll always love you,

I hope you knew that.

You Poem 5

My Boy

I just wanted you to know

I like the pleated suit

Your father dressed you in.

I know you really hate red,

But this rose would look

Beautiful against your tranquil chest.

I’ll just leave it and

Go.  Also, I love you.
I just wanted you to know

You Poem 4

Adam

You gave me a job the moment air filled my lungs.

Two at a time they came to me, patiently waiting

With hooked claws, with vivid feathers, with

Dull gray armor, with flicking tails.

The work was good, I enjoyed the work.

What combinations of sounds came into my head!

Panther, hippopotamus, snake, dove.

They received their identities and you led

Them away, looking back to smile at me.

But the animals did pain my heart.

Two always departed from me, side by side;

Two distinct from all around them.

There was none similar to me but you,

And you were much more than me.

I said nothing, you gave me everything after all,

Yet one day I sleep long and deep, and dreamed

Of your very presence inside of me.

I opened my eyes for the first time of many,

To see another, different me, lying by my side.

You made me into us. Side by side we walk, distinct

From all others. I had all, and you gave me more.

Why then would I disobey you, just to taste another fruit?

You Poem 3

Continue on

Continue on little black ant,

Sanctuary’s a mere foot away.

The crushing crumb on your

Skeletal back, your exact duty.

Revised You Poem 1

The Past

See the man hanging lopsided on the back of the closet door?

The metal spikes rip at the flesh of his hands and calloused feet

And the terrible twisted circlet of thorns sending streaks of blood

Are causing that hurt on his acrylic face.

That look is not unfamiliar to you.

If there was a mirror in the closet you would see the lines

Of enduring hopelessness etched on it.

Draw away from the world of tear-streaked mascara

And pray

That tomorrow will be a better day.

Force aside the noises that cuff your ears,

From the wheezing lungs of another hungry man.

Forget your heavy-eyed mother’s rehearsed words

Seeping through the closet doors that work night.

Forgive the painful clench of your arm as your mother

Drags you to your bed,

Your duct-tape patched couch.

Arrive at a wonderful land

As you lay in the twilight.

Soar on the backs of eagles in the spring air.

Step off a sun-bleached rowboat onto an unmapped land.

Glide lazily down a stream away from the stumbling men in the city.

Go now, go now before the light of the picture dies

Beneath the light of your bleary eyes.

Pursue a deep, disconnected sleep,

And pray

That tomorrow will be that better day

You Poem 2

Housekeeping

I’m sorry.

I have not had enough time to scrub away

The muddy paw prints

From the kitchen floor, or repair

The loose board

On the poppy-red deck.

One day when you take over our house,

Take a day to restore every room.

Please do.
A lot of filth can pile up in a day.

You Poem 1

Innocence

Block out the noise that cuffs your ears,

From the wheezing lungs of another hungry man.

Forget your heavy-eyed mother’s rehearsed words

Seeping through the closet door this work night.

Arrive at a wonderful land instead by flickering flashlight.

Ride on the backs of lions in the spring air,

Step off a barnacle-clad dingy onto an unmapped island

Glide down the Mississippi away from the stumbling men on the city.

Fly now, fly far and high before the flashlight dies,

Then close your bleary eyes,

Pursue sleep

And pray;

To the man hanging lopsided on the back of the closet door.

Spikes and thorns causing that hurt on his acrylic face.

Those eyes know your pain.

I beg you.

Draw away from the world of tear-streaked mascara

Of bruise-inflicting men,

Of just trying to make rent.

And pray

That tomorrow will be

A better day.