Monthly Archives: January 2014


Life Story

It’s the hesitation
    The go/don’t go
    The stay for just a touch longer
    The wait for the perfect time
          wait for the right time
          wait because that is what I do

I come from a family of watchers
    Watch the trends
          And see if they change
    Want to know what the weather is like?
          Watch the TV news
          Don’t go stand in the yard
          With your jacket off and look at the sky
    Watch, like a cat trapped on a windowsill
          As the neighbors throw a party
    (I would go over but I don’t know their names)
No one in my family has ever invented anything

I’ve ended up watching myself

I’m always the third person in the room
    Gauging the reactions of others
          Is it safe?
          Do I dare?
          Maybe we better just stay quiet

Even the watcher in me hesitates

So when she asked me how I feel
This glorious, action of a woman asked me how I feel

I hesitated

Was this the perfect time?
Was this the right time?
          go/don’t go
          go/don’t go
I hesitated because it’s what I do
I watched trying to gauge what her response might be
The third person in the room
    Told me to just stay quiet

She took my hesitation as denial

                         And I watched it happen

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Posted by on January 21, 2014 in Uncategorized


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Love Fragment (5)               (new)

Clouds form above the river
You say it has something to do
With condensation
        and wind patterns
I just like
How our words
Hang heavy with dew

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Posted by on January 20, 2014 in new poetry


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I’m writing/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet
I’m singing/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet
I’m breathing/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet
And that is

I listen for clicks
on sidewalks
voices going sideways
and explosions inside me
trying to guide me
away from hiding all
those gray sides of me
I don’t want you to see

I live under the raindrops
feel the pindrops
feel the puddles slop
around my heels
feel the sound of
rain plopping on my brain
  this is

I live with/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet
I dance with/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet
I give you/poetra poetra poet
                 poetra poetra poet

because that is
  who you are

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Posted by on January 19, 2014 in old discoveries, springboards


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Glorious Gut Music

what is this rhythm
in my gut
this beat beat beat beat beat
that ain’t the
thumpa thumpa thumpa
of my heart
this belly button
bass poundin
a oogala a oogala a oogala
that makes my legs ache
from dancin in my dreamin

when did these jazzy jumpups
join me
and why when i walk
do my toes
tappy tappy tappy
in my shoes

the thumpa thumpa thumpa
tries to keep me straight
but my knees keep clicking
ticking off the time
of the rhyme
that makes my body
tell my mouth
“listen buddy
you just sing out
this glorious gut music
of beat beat beat
a oogala a oogala a oogala
beat beat a oogala
and we will all
be dancin happy fools”

finally listenin
even the thumpa thumpa thumpa
of my heart agrees

tappy tappy
click click
beat beat
a oogala

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Posted by on January 18, 2014 in old discoveries, springboards


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Christmas ’98–a realization

how many lifetimes
have I gone through
to find this love

how many
near misses
of love passed in the streets
of a shoulder turned away
just when eyes
searched a room

how many times
did I lie awake at night
vaguely uneasy and dissatisfied
hoping to find love in my dreams

how many deaths
and rebirths
false trails
and disillusions

until I found this love

this love of eyes meeting
and dreams fulfilled
this love of connection
and communication
this love of

    (we didn’t know it then
     but it was fitting
     that the first time we met
     it was in a church)

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Posted by on January 17, 2014 in old discoveries


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Dorothy’s angels

She surrounds herself with angels:
            pictures of angels
            angels on quilts
            angels on plaques
            wooden angels hanging on wires.
They are her “thing”—
    the collectibles of a woman
         looking for a theme.
Every Christmas her kids get her
something else angel-y.
She’s easy to shop for.

No one asks her why.

To them, it’s just like
collecting rooster decorations
       or penguins
       or Nantucket blue.
But she has never told anyone
that she collects them out of fear.
She needs to see an angel
whenever she turns quickly.
She needs to be able to touch an angel
when she fumbles in the dark.
She is afraid
that now
there are no more real angels
for her.

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Posted by on January 16, 2014 in Uncategorized


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After talking with my sister long distance
about her chemotherapy                                 (published Autumn Sky Poetry, July 2011)

I remember now
the rhythm of watching phone lines
on long stretches of road—
the dip of the wires
falling to the middle of my window
and then rising up
to meet the poles
and then
the dip of the wires again.
They kept a constant pace,
hypnotic and soothing,
until we slowed for a turnoff.
As our speed dropped
the wires fell more slowly
and struggled to rise back up.

I always turned away then
before the wires became a line
that did not fall nor rise
and leaned into my sister
to prove, with our touch,
that I was still alive.

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Posted by on January 15, 2014 in previously published


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2 voice poem (whispered wanderings)

whispered wanderings
                                           we’ve journeyed here
                                           from the interior
voiced with the wind
                                           we did not know the way
                                           but we came anyway
almost silent                         almost silent

we sang
                                           we hoped
to bring
                                           to sing
love to you                            love to you

                                           but the trip was long
and the wind stilted
                                           and you had gone
so the air hung heavy
and now we’ve lost                and now we’ve lost
the way back                        the way back

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Posted by on January 14, 2014 in old discoveries, springboards


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a realization

her eyes are bright oil slicks
shimmering colors
that glisten through her tears
but try to drive into them
and you spin sideways
out of control
and slam into her solid walls
of distrust


Posted by on January 13, 2014 in old discoveries


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On a crowded elevator between the 5th and 6th floors

My wife says to me,
“Why don’t you like crowds?”
And I want to explain to her
About marbles slamming together on the playground,
Steelies and cats’ eyes and shooters
And about the circle we drew
To contain them.
And I want to tell her
Of the strangling of tether balls
Around the shiny, slick poles,
Pushed tighter by the solid thuds
Of unseen hands.
And finally to describe the bell
To go back to class
And lining up by height
With me the shortest,
Feeling the weight of every other kid behind me
Pushing me forward.

But I can’t bring that violence to her,
That loneliness.
So I breathe through my nose,
Push back against the elevator walls,
Stare at the floor numbers,
Cough three times away from the other travelers
And pretend I didn’t hear her.


Posted by on January 12, 2014 in old discoveries


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