Wednesday, 18 October 2017

Sorrow is a Banquet

Sorrow is a banquet
Spread out in a garden
Where the trees are empty
Of their fruit
The tablecloth has been pressed
And pressed again
But wrinkles will not
Be so easily erased
On the table is earthenware
Where liquid leaks out
Through the cracks
There are plates, bowls, spoons,
And knives that slice
There are no forks
To put in anything
Say, “I’m done”
There are folding chairs at this table
Uneven legs, unsteady
Shadow people mill about
Faceless, nameless
No one speaks
There are no words
Upon the tongue
You nibble and gnaw
On plastic fruit
Covered in the dust of memories
It rains, of course
You look up to the sky for answers,
For a waiter to tell you
Which is the room
Down the corridor of doors
That will open to the place
Where glasses clink
And a soprano
October 18, 2017                  

Train Tracks

I have stood on these train tracks,
A portal to the past
To the place where I grew up
Where bullies laid me flat

I have looked through the pane
And seen where I have been,
Time itself a blur to me
Amid the forest green

I have travelled many miles
Over weeds near fallen trees,
Through stations of the cross,
Found light in tunnels deep

I stand here again
But the train no longer runs;
I pick the berries from the bush,
The thorns and thistles, shun                
October 11, 2017

In Trauma, There is Art

In trauma, there is art, 
Hiding, waiting to emerge
Rough, jagged edges are reshaped 
As chisels slice through knurls 
Health is found upon the lathe
Where new angles are spun 
Once skewed by dark scars, 
Now angels spin in the sun         
October 11, 2017

What Truths Does the Moon Tell?

What truths does the moon tell?
What secrets does he hide
In the back room, whisked away
When the light subsides?

Does he slyly smile
And whisper through the clouds?
Does he broadcast through the air
Like a peacock crowing, loud?

Does he beam like a feline
With feathers in its fur?
Does he howl with the wolves 
At the tales he's seen and heard?

Not the regular rotation
Of peoples' late-night antics 
But weighty lunacies 
Super-charged, gigantic 

What truths does the moon tell?
What does Neptune know?
Does Uranus hold your secrets tight?
And why do stars explode?     
October 11, 2017


He first floated 
in amniotic fluid
on the Neusiedler See;
he was birthed 
into the sailing world,
his Opapa telling tales
of the merchant marine

Fleet of foot, 
he ran after school
to the swimming pool;
with his teammates, 
he dove into chlorine 

But the salt air 
filled his lungs
with contentment,
cementing his passion
to sail far 
and sail now

Through the North Sea, 
the Atlantic, Pacific, 
San Francisco Bay,
Gulf of Mexico,
the Mediterranean,
and Nootka Sound

Simply put,
he's more grounded 
when the sea is around him
and terra firma transforms
to a port on his charts,
with the wind in his face
and peace in his heart              
October 9, 2017


prom queen mermaid 
with angelic wings
hovers by foxgloves 

she glides in the air
a gilded sculpture
vivid, vivacious 
sweet than nectar
October 7, 2017      


I have stood in this lineup
countless times, 
and recounting items 
in the red plastic basket,
making chitchat with cashiers,
harping about politicians,
whining about the weather;
some are cheerleader types,
some cheeky,
some have zero cheer;
I steer my cart clear of those
and find the one
whose light is always on,
a beacon to the burdened
with a sympathetic ear,
the one who knows my name
but still she calls me Dear;
she works hard 
for the pittance she's paid,
is, herself, double bagged 
by the end of the day
but from where I stand,
she is the best source
of loyalty, rewards,
hands down
and I can count on her,
to fill me up 
with good things:
encouraging words,
gifts of thoughtfulness,
warmest of hugs;
her name tag reads: Susan
which means lily,
a tall fragrant bloom
and that she is,
standing out 
like a bouquet
in a lackluster room;
as friends go,
and they do,
she is more
than I bargained for
when I entered her queue     
October 6, 2017