till human voice wake us

Sailing

2008-07-06T11:24:00.001-07:00

My flag's unfurled in anticipation
of the wind that will fill
my sails hoisted high
ready
and waiting
for each time the wind picks up
it's either summer breeze
or gale force

The ship never leaves the harbor or
its mast is snapped in two.

status

2007-11-05T20:52:00.000-08:00

that disappointing sigh
that comes
in three short five short
parallel syllables
singing sighing
a bitten down fingernail in frustration
a shoulder cramp
a jammed jaw bone that can't form words
a cup of coffee
cream two sugars
and a cigarette
so no one can notice if you're sighing
out syllables you've heard before
or just
exhaling

Gillian

2007-07-22T20:27:00.000-07:00

On a diet of cigarettes and diet coke-
there's always room for you--
too much too little pictures
without a memory without context
scream from rolls of negatives waiting
to be exposed
explained
experienced as something more than just a 35 mm
recollection of waiting... for something new
something stimulating and well dressed
like a formal gown from a department store
-- it's nice but just not for you
like shoes from a bag lady
who says "walk a mile in these babies and maybe..."
and she's lost count of what day
she's on and when she started out
going to

like a baby pool begging you to dive into--
there was little left to explore.
knowing that 35mm could
capture only a split
second
of dancing
or laughing
or flowers, caught in a moment
of still life
between blooming
& letting the new
growth have their day.

phone calls.

2006-07-15T01:23:00.000-07:00

what makes me get up
to answer an unringing telephone
in the middle of the day to ask
you if you're there
and how your day was
when no one's answering and all
i want to do, is make you answer
in short sentences
with verbs and subjects
that we both can
agree upon

pulp

2006-05-03T22:39:00.000-07:00

the pulpiness in orange juice
leaves the residue of frustration
on the egde of the glass. to dry
and rebirth again
I'll be back to tomorrow
wiping the same glass clean
only to stain with new bits of pulp
and the bitter mixture
of orange juice and toothpaste
the sweet juices flow and beg questions
what is this all about? they'll ask
it doesn't have to be about anything.
like dry pulpy bits caught between front teeth
and sorid clenched jaws
someday you'll fall asleep at the wheel
and crash into someone just to know
that you can walk away from it.
and maybe
just maybe
you will

Allison

2006-03-04T16:23:00.000-08:00

That laugh
that wants so badly to be apart
that wants you to be a part of
and invites you down long
hallways and corridors
to coffee shops and road trips and all night diners
to places so ordinary only
she could make them
scream for mercy
till tears ran down their faces
Not tears of crying
or tears at a wedding
(those are saved for later)
but tears of elation that
come so infrequently and in
such great number,
like constellations spread out in front of you.
It's not the season or the weather
that makes things happen
It's where you look in the constellations
of her eyes
and her laugh.
whether north
or south and
no matter hemisphere or meridian
she's there
between sips of
coffee, sad drags of cigarettes
and stoplights on a
road trip.

As Natalie leaves for college (2000)

2006-02-09T20:05:00.000-08:00

two leaves cling to the branch
of a tree
(tossed by the wind)
shone in the sun

from afar a mass of green
leaves bends and boughs in the sun
all part of the same branches
the same tree
the same orchard

from afar we see that two
leaves on a farther branch
jut out from the tree

two leaves growing so close
but never touch
whose green veins carry
the same blood

the two leaves so closebut never
touching dancing
but not with the tree
are both swept by the wind
in the same instant
tossed in circles in the air
then land on the ground

but on opposite sides of the tree--

Two word play poems (circa 1998)

2006-02-09T19:44:00.000-08:00

changes each anything
crashes harms life heaven
breaks time patiently
on,in,it floats seeing
life hopes

---------------------

little pieces
strike sunlight
down, to never get up
don't breathe
breathed god
who's people strike sunlight
down, to never get up

To Sydney- upon her trip to Hungary

2006-02-09T19:34:00.000-08:00

She twirls tussles of hair
around one lonely finger-
exhale

And doesn't know what to do
it's all a pattern-- she reminds herself
We're too old to be so disaffected, too
young to be so complacent-
One more day, another year-
"One day when we're out of high school..."
you complete the sentence...
And now we're there-- with weathered faces
we barely recognize in pictures

No more patient naviete, no more
late night pizza.
we're on planes going god knows where
We're in people infested apartments and roach
infested streets.

Sometimes someone somewhere laughs like you and all
I can do is turn my head.
a girl, overdressed, with too much makeup
-- shorn-- from head to toe--
more plastic than this town she's in
She has no right to laugh like you.

Sometimes I look in all the wrong
places for someone
who laughs at 90mph
in a car
going no place special.