Category: Poetry

Drinking With Shadows

Tumbleweed bounces
down the street where
poetry used to roam
while the Marshal sits
far back in the
corner of the saloon
drinking with shadows
refusing to go anywhere
Whatever killed the poems
is still out there
He’s seen enough death
so he stays
and drinks
and stares

Eternity Unveiled

The ether today bears the force
of a splintered crystal born
in the high Himalayas
Brittle
Portentous
A ubiquitous prism
splitting the frigid sun
into cold shafts of
rainbow upon the snow
unveiling eternity
in the pristine clarity
of guileless cold
A wizardry of old
I recognize

Dickensian

The day creeps over
the roadside ditches
filled with rotting corpses
of snow like the notes
of a dirge and the air is
pregnant with an
imperative to retreat
beneath the sheets
To escape from the
Dickensian misery of
this dirty pall passing
itself off as life
Even the sun refuses

Old Days

Watching an old western
on a channel that only old
folks watch it seems
every ad is for those with
one foot in the grave or
feet that hurt and cooking
devices that can be wiped
clean easily but wait,
there’s more!
All designed to get one back
to joyously pushing the grand
child in a wheelbarrow
or laughing and washing the dog
or using a cell phone that has
big buttons and a simple plan
so we can call all our old friends
and go for a walk at the park
cause we’re all a gnat’s ass
from being put in a home
No thanks, I’ll pass

Mizrab

My index finger hurts like hell
from playing sitar
A sadistic plectrum
called a mizrab
pinched tightly on it
A tortuous tool
George Harrison
likened to having a
weasel latched on your
finger
I’ve convinced myself
the sacrifice is noble
Suffering for my art
Deep grooved callouses
deforming my pointing digit
and I still stink at it
Sitar is a lifetime thing
and I’ve pissed half of
mine away
Whatever
I’m still gonna play

Some Days

Some days are desperate
A cold ache arises between
the shower and the first coffee
A hollow pain that screams the
need to belong
To believe in something
To be a card carrying part
of a larger that defines you
That proclaims
this is my thing!
And some days that
loneliness
won’t go away

Request (Invocation)

Oh great owl
Ruler of the night
wings outstretched
in silent flight
Hearing and seeing
the tiniest things
invisible things
secret things
Sister of the moon
bathed by her light
Messenger in a
thousand dreams
come and take me
to your forest keep
where I can seal away
this pain

Benediction

Dispatched some eight minutes
or so ago and told to cross
one-hundred fifty million
kilometers
comes a benediction
A small piece of the sun
streaming through the
palladium window
spans the family room
and lays hands upon my
sitar in a shining
silent blessing