Friday, November 18, 2005

Now I lay me down

There were these thoughts and they
Were nagging, slightly oppressive
As a prairie dream of low and flat.
There was this time, a whole lot of it that,
Having passed, was mostly in garbage heaps.

There was this music, not exactly
You wish you could forget the tune
Because it was always just a little beyond
Memory but still a little too familiar,
A sound a little new but too often understood.

There were these dreams, some of them yours
And some of them his, the kind to keep you awake.

There was this soldier of the unknown battle
Sitting alone, doing it again until it’s done.

Monday, November 14, 2005

Smile fruit with remember potato

for Sue

So the ham and cheese morning rests on the little it knows.
Angels gather together in the kitchen of dreams
Not slick and stainless, tile and grout,
But close and crowded, clean and lean.

It was so unexpected, that kitchen, practically over lake waters.
In the weakening summer sprinkled with Dutch rain
It climbed the narrow stairway to the sky,
One leg in Eden the other in the deepening water out from the shore.

The handfuls of gadgets were home at last, having found one another.
In another room sat Montaigne scratching that itch,
Ready with manuscript to go to the Voorschorterlaan Station with
The press already rolling like a subway on its track to London.

Kitchens should always speak Nedderlander above the tree tops
High where the best fruit grows.

Monday, November 07, 2005


The illusion is that something harmless can pass the time
And as it passes nothing is hurt, all change is harmless.
But what of what you’re waiting out? What of the
Children whose lives have been touched with
Unintentional troubles and left to grow in bent up ways?
You did the best you could; I know that, I have too.
We both failed our sons and daughters, believing in a better good
Than us and ours, trusting society rather than ourselves.

I have these tears, I can’t get them out! They burn, sear,
Leaving scars deep within me; they would be like acid
On my face. They are like a bomb within me,
Whose blast I will not be able to survive. So, like mom

On the table lie the cards
I play a game of solitaire.

Saturday, November 05, 2005

Dee sonnet of dee day

I’m Drunk now!
The first beer
Spewed over my chest, Mr. Bones,
Having followed much vodka,
I drank voraciously!

This cold, splendid day was
In absence of happiness,
Joy, or joke. Quietly
Problems did their obligatory circle.

Your love spilled over me
As rushing esters
Swept me away.

Foolish crime, loneliness,
Punished as we commit.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

My MP3

Where is the rumble,
The war of thought,
Tension on the shaft
Turning the gears;

Momentum mounts,
Picks up pace,
Music tumbles,
A waterfall of words.

At first it’s slow,
I can write things down
(Then gone beyond
The speed I could).

Symphony of syncopated excitement to simply
Listen I sit, marvel at the sound.