Wrong circle

In our next moment of wearing clothes,
we will be unstoppable in our nakedness.
Every answer will be a lie
and will mean everything to us
like the darts in your dress,
the soft rub of your jeans.
I cannot tell you the truth
and that no longer hurts.
True was a lie that we shared
before your small hand shattered
my big one with a squeeze.
I look to the light in your eyes
for this world has grown dark.
You are apple and I am orange.
I cringe at beauty because
the glint of a hair has entranced me.
I revolve around your lips
like a forlorn moon.
I pray for gravity and descent.
Destroy my orbit.

poetry 2

a week without spilling out the words
is the burning cross
with my insides boiling

busy week
distracted week
only rhyming preffixes

syllabus students
working the vending machine
in drop/add anarchy

nights echoing
day’s folly
foulness at rest

a dance
without any music

PICTURES ARE COMING

Experiencing technical difficulties!

Dear students, thanks for the wonderful pictures which I will post soon. I am very busy, at the momment and Blogger has changed. Over the week-end I should be able to have the time to sort it all out, so check back later.

See you in class!

OOPS!

Oops, got tagged…..

by Katy


The rule of this tag is to tell five unknown factoids about yourself.


1. I wrote my first play at the age of 11.
2. I rode a custom Triumph motorcycle for 15 years.
3. I have been in three movies.
4. I was a surfer in the early 60’s.
5. I moved to San Francisco and became a hippie in the late 60’s.



I tag Queen Neetee, Pat Paulk, Jaded Prima Donna, Gautami Tripathy, Sue Hardy Dawson.

Lover

The snow writes a poem
to the earth about silence
the wreck of the moon
breaks again in a pond
as it freezes
looking a little
like the sparkle
in a lover’s eyes.

I stroke the face
of the lover
with my words
the lover is old
sleeping quietly
peace crosses her face
in the pale light
as we succumb
to the old dream
of winter.

Sunlight

Amsterdam afternoon
bright crisp graceful air
tinkling piano keys

Road Show

Planes and airports
the next two days -
that travel has grown discomfort
like the skin of a giant snake,
that my students are waiting,
soon from my office there
I'll sit at the computer
and answer comments
after the snake has shed.

Arizona Sunset

The painting leans against the sky
Borrowing colors, light bleeds in.
I sit at the computer tapping keys –
The riot of my feelings
Revolts against a sad history of words.
They together tell of the crack in time
Where the torturer slides in like a shadow
Between what I wanted
And what I have done.
The only thing to do
Is to turn my back on
Guesses and approximations.
The crowd pleaser must die and
I must do alone that evening liturgy.

After a siesta

Hot air dreams on a cloud
Soaring red tailed hawk
Hungry over a winter desert
My daughter’s lips move
Ending heartache with a swoop

We have much to do
Hand in hand over shopping malls
Grocery stores
Big as a desert sky
Reflected in each other’s eyes

We must laugh and play
Improve the lies of night and day

We must tell them to each other
Uselessly as surrendered soldiers

Stained Glass Window

My experience shapes my poetry
I want to shape my experience
By living how and where -
I want to write those poems

It must be said the mind
Shapes all experience
But sometimes you must
Be crazy to see what you want
I put my bookmark on my pillow
And get up to pen the dawn

There is a street we all live on
All ordinary experience is had there

I cross the street nearly alone
And find my bookmark

River Pebble

The rock has known the hollow harmony of water,
The limbless rock has learned the joy of dance,
On the bottom of the river it learns to measure love that passes,
And dry in the sun it learns thirst and to sing a lament.
It has always been whole, complete,
Only by being caressed it learns
The limitation of solid.