tv sonnet

rocket shoots up a spike driven in the sky
Painful grin I aint laughing though
folks riding explosions
coughing clouds

sitting on the shore of the stars
looking neither
in deep nor out far
grand words for stupid history

above sickness and starvation
bodies in the water
dying birds
and little corpses left in alleys

we cannot look beneath the surface
and see the shallows over reality

Ask for more

Interrogating life
Not looking for answers.
Who knows what they would be?

Bright girl, bright boy,
Walking atom bombs,
Timeshare factories for
Making people.

Conversation to pass the time;
Brownian motion to fill the place.

Everybody Likes a Sure Putt

Lives put in baskets to keep them together
Irritation as a lifestyle
Criticism and flights of fancy
Bridge looks half in rain, half in sun

This shallow breathing shall not endure
Nor is its purpose clear

How to hollow out the ages
Written in the tree trunk
Canoe in the human soup
Trying to leave the island

Fear is in the hollow
And below the surface

Always ask questions
If you’re afraid of giving answers
Strong wind, taught sails
Disguise the bailing

Cat in a bag
Playing with confinement

Dateline teardrop

The drink is for the flipsy friends
Or is it just with them?
Can’t seem to marry that man,
Hoplessfuls of confusion about

This would ruin something
So start it out broken.
No surprises!
Just hate surprises, she gulps!

Anger that is a powerful
Blaze which burns
Without wood. Good thing nobody
Noticed (something might be consumed).

Our tears are for a serious us,
It is easier to cry for, than laugh at, that.

Hidden Star

Here star waits to shine;
You have chosen to hide
In the misty clouds of time.
Everything is obscure in
That foggy cosmos of feet,
Everything except something
Which nothing can wipe from
Your view, being the reasons
Why you bank behind the backlit
Clouds, shedding light only to
Make something beside yourself
Shine and be seen as though
It could produce light itself.
What are you waiting for?
What manner of evil could
Keep you from doing what you are?

Sad Monster Sonnet

Clunky boots like monsters wear
Old clothes, frightening hair,
Sadly shuffling by the stair,
There’s no one around to scare

What’s the point of being
Like I am if there’s no one
To see me. What’s the point
To be me when I’m all alone.

Can I be just who I am?
What if I didn’t dress and do
The things that matter
When there is you?

Shuffled off to change into a flowered dress
Arriving home scared me half to death!

Praise drunk on itself

I love your words
As they frantically jitterbug
Across my somber attention
Dancing horses on point
Fooling around with my
Chalk and white board markers

A grown woman in her my little pony hair
Showing she can count
And neigh for hunters at
A proactive road kill dinner
Stalking the drunkenness and porn
Hate/love testosterone

To tell on her life
As we mad laughing live it

Dacha

Spending seven fastidious days sorting freshness
With my lungs. A sea of air shifting
Eternal sands, in a place where time
Has a quality of energy about it, not
Because something must be done but
Because it can warm and cool your skin
Like sunlight. Tea in the afternoon in the
Yard from the smoky samovar, cold cuts,
Cheese, hardy bread, lettuce freshly
Picked and washed, sweet cherry tomatoes,
Still smelling like sunshine on the ground,
Hands that smell like summer rain in the trees
After you wash them in cold, clear spring water,
I am healed where doctors can’t check.

Show’s over

It was in the dining room;
It hung from the curtains
In his study.
It was so palpable when
He worked, which he
Always did. He had
A place to kneel
But almost never got the chance.

At night when dreams
Would torture me with doors
That wouldn’t go away,
I’d walk the hall.

The setting moon would
Put a pale, light rectangle
On the study floor,
An ended slide show
With the projector on.

The snake would seethe within
Me, I would never be
Suitable. I would always be
A lonesome ghost in that
House which is forever lost.

I’m an inverted image
Done in a box with a
Hole in it; the light
Would come from without
My life would play within.

She let the snake out dad,
Don’t give in!

Ah! Magic Café

In the throes of success
The blind dishwasher
Intuits stains the seeing
Can barely spot.

The late night café
Leans sideways to
Accommodate a customer
Who, having induldged,
Needs a different angle
To match his walk.

The cook has a nose
Like an elephant’s trunk
And concocts aromatic
Pleasures of delicacy
And balance that
Mobilize circus tent
Sized appetites.

The waiter’s face
Looks different to
Every customer like
A close old friend.
He knows everybody’s
Name even if they’ve
Never been here before.

Customers often offer
Him their wallets but
Their happiness is the
Only tip he wants.

They take credit cards
But it always seems never
To subtract from your balance.

The music fits each dish
And the desire of people
To talk and the mood
They want to have
Surfaces like a smile.

You never need a reservation.
Your favorite table is
Always ready and
Everybody you have
Been wanting to see
Is there waiting
To say hi to you.

Things Given, Things Got

Her storm on the brow, looking up a word
I remember myself, reading
The dictionary, a geologist
In the cave of light.

She looks up and that whole apple smile
Makes the teacher’s day.

The boy in the group of guys
Is working hard. He needs everybody’s
Attention. He’s worth it; they all laugh.
But I see how hard he struggles with his

Need to be seen and celebrated not
Drawn close and loved. He wishes he knew it

But is afraid to go for the final
Prize which she always wins with accepting
Eyes. He’s angry, frustrated how can there
Be another throne in the hall, a seat

He’s afraid to get to without his fierce
Army. Don’t give me what I must fight for.

for sue and our students

dont trouble me about
punctuation
spelling

i am looking for
meaning
not exactly

those who serve rules
might not be served
nor understand

our students know this
after meaningless tests
to find out who is

the best
but at what
and for whom

yes i am peevish
but no im not bad
(just not a bureaucrat)

yes i break rule
looking for more
than I found at school

lament for gulnaz

come here from wherever
you know how hard a burden you bear
tears sit like pain behind your eyes
it troubles you
this complexity
that you are things
you do and
dont like
that today isnt building
a tomorrow you want
and you dont know when
the future begins
and endless today is over

you are tired
of resting
and yearn i to introduce you
to meaningless happiness

a day for my angel

sparkling quiet in the halls and rooms
cat and dog curled up
student gone
books gathered

tonights lesson plan freshly printed
stars and moon out of sight
plate and cup drying in the rack
the world is in my nose ears and eyes

neighbors greeted
dog walked
poem saved
chores after noon

the cat knows i will lie down for
late morning nap

search party

every moment spent searching
gravel unusual little details
door ajar
hat pin on top of blank paper

counting things
changes in size and color
empty slot for an egg
words in their places

searching the cloudless distant sky
stars
cosmos
cat asleep on my pillow

looking for God in meaningless details
finding Him in my heart

Passing Time

Of all the troubles I have ever known,
The harvest of time so slow of a haul,
It’s worst to be unoccupied alone
With stupid to do or nothing at all.

When we share of our time it goes so fast.
Start pleasures finish so quickly complete;
Soup’s soon to dessert and so quickly past.
Sidewalking laughter echoes on the street.

The singing of songs all memory now
The toasts to the host with vodkas raised high
Superficiality asks us how
We could do so; we must even ask why?

But we know in the night’s troubled empty
Glad we would spend endless hours so simply.

father abraham

in this house of life
happy lives its master
threads sew day to night
with value and respect
work important money plenty
time to relax as well as work
friends give honor by their joy
if more is asked more is given
the love of God here is found

frankenstein sonnet

you know your little darling
cloned vengeance
night pretends to close its eyes
category five mounts

madness embarks on lears valley
granulated quiet
some dumb drops
youll beg for death

distance doesnt separate
limbs supinate
lies you create
suppurate like exploding transformers

canibalism becomes you
you were your first victim

depressed scales

there are eyes in glasses
one fierce one kind
beard like cut grass
hair roots are in the brain
growing wickedly
you must wash faucet handles
after he washes dishes

he poisons those who dread day
stealing with stained smile
teeth he can count on
his life is a museum of garbage
with a lethal bar inside
he comes from night
and goes back there
in darkness that frightens
cats scurry and grow furtive
dogs whimper

warts grow healthy and ugly
trying to imitate his vigor
no matter how fast they grow
they can not match his strength
when nice people grow ill
he gurgles in his dark bed
like a barrel filling up

he will never die
nor be ill
when he is gone
something dark
will have taken him
on best working broken wings
eyes in glasses will see
new place in need
of pain

not big but no longer small

sand lot boy and girl
two years ago in the
sand box
this year on the slide
sitting on some cloth
to protect tender skin from
summer hot steel
in a couple more years
with baby brother or sister
toddle small and compact
the small feet
in too stiff shoes
the falls
hot angry tears
and that wounded shriek
that tells us you didn’t
deserve their trust
they looked up to you
but you failed them

five more years and that
metal and sand universe
will be a bizarre moonscape
only containing that
desperate hope
that he or she will love
you back
and can be trusted
not to let you
float away some
cool spring night

my burden is light

i like to move easy with dawn
the hours and moments of my life
blow through a
wind tunnel
as i watch

i see nothing passing
but i feel the absence
how can this precious
be less tangible
than its absence

how can these words
be no more than a
record of our thoughts
yet our thoughts be of
such stuff

that can anchor a
moment to pleasure
so solidly it cannot
be moved by even the
strongest

or sorrow
close up a life with
tomb like stones heavy
as the pyramids
solid

ignorant
yet only that sense organ of the
mind can touch them
just as we touch each other with our eyes
more tenderly than any hand