Master of the Obvious....41

The fragrance of faithfulness is the sexiest aroma on the planet.

Master of the Obvious...40

A man who possesses his own soul walks with a steady gait and casts a shadow that is unashamed to walk beside him.

Master of the Obvious...39

If you haven't listened to a midnight train, gravel popping under truck tires, a whippoorwill or mourning dove, cicadas in the trees, or grandma's cooking oil snapping at chicken frying, you can't be a southerner.

Master of the Obvious...38

Nothing on earth weighs more than a badge pinned to a chest.

Master of the Obvious...37

Real men keep their car stereos at a decibel that does not make others' ears bleed.

Master of the Obvious...36

Real men keep their trousers up around their waist.

Master of the Obvious...35

Real men do not wear their hats backward.

Master of the Obvious...34

Life  changed for the worse when front porches became backyard decks.

Master of the Obvious...33

Not all silver beards adorn the wise.

Master of the Obvious...32

If you'll wait a  bit, dull thoughts will come into sharp focus.

Master of the Obvious...31

Silence shouts 

The Empty Space Between Us

The Empty Space Between Us

Had you not kissed me

when I leaned through
the empty space between us
we would not be here now.

Our children, playing at our feet
would not be here
had you not met me
in the empty space between us.

Everything we are, and all we have

would not make up our home
had we not joined together
in the empty space between us.

In the empty space between us

we have built our lives.
We have created a legacy
that continues and thrives…

In the empty space between us.

Master of the Obvious...30

A real man, good and true, commonly wonders if he is a real man, good and true. 

Ominous

Ominous

I examined ominous tracks in the snow

And it didn’t take long to see
What every shepherd knows.

 

So I went for my  shotgun

And a box of solid shot
And waited for the going down of the sun.

 

The tracks circled my sheep
So I kept real quiet
Careful not to make a peep.

 

All night I huddled in the cold
With no fire to show
Sure to check those critters, bold.

I watched the moon creep through the trees

As I huddled in the snow
Freezing, down on my knees.

 

Along about three in the morning
The wolves crept stealthily in
With nary a call out of warning.

 

But I was wide awake and ready
With my weapon in my hand

nerves like steel, and steady.

 

You can drop by any time you'd like
And I’ll show you the pelts out in the barn.
They aren’t there as a trophy to any hunt.

So as not to keep you in the fog
I want to be crystal clear.
You see, a wolf is just a wolf

…but I am the sheep dog.

Master of the Obvious...29

A pretty woman in a sun dress is just about the most amazing sight on the planet.

Master of the Obvious...28

Grown men will rarely tell you they have a "best" friend. 

Master of the Obvious...27

When you have nothing constructive to say, shut up. 

Master of the Obvious...26

The best fighting with your back against the wall.

Master of the Obvious...25

There is no percentage in a midnight dust up with your mate.  

Master of the Obvious...24

'Boy, howdy!' ought need no further comment. 

Master of the Obvious...23

Never ask a barber if you need a haircut. (Not original to me, sorry to say).

Master of the Obvious...22

Allowing a woman's tears to influence major decisions has been the ruin of a many a poor lad. Conversely, the believed promises of many a wicked man has been the undoing of many a devastated lass. 

Master of the Obvious...21

It is to your advantage to look a man square in the eyes. Especially if he must look up for you to do so.

Master of the Obvious...20

There is a universe of difference between either side of the blue strobes.

Master of the Obvious...19

The price of a luxury automobile and the maintenance of a woman is nearly equal. The exception being you need not purchase the automobile every year.

Master of the Obvious...18

The love of a dog is just about the purest love on earth. 

Master of the Obvious...17

That which thrills you can also kill you.

Master of the Obvious...16

Men do not stray because they found someone better. They stray because they found someone different. 

Master of the Obvious...15

The sun is truly setting when small men cast giant shadows. (Something to remember when you cast your ballot next November).  

Master of the Obvious...14

If she keeps her eyes open when you kiss, she's just not that into you.

Master of the Obvious...13

If you didn't have to be home by the time the street lights came on, you may not have a firm grasp on the meaning of 'boundaries'.

Master of the Obvious...12

If you rush to wash your truck after flying down a dirt road, you ain't country!

Master of the Obvious...11

If you don't know who your great grandparents are, your wheels aren't getting enough traction.

Master of the Obvious...10

Place your trust in the preacher with the most worn Bible and the cheapest suit.

Master of the Obvious...9

That of the poorest quality is over-publicized.

Master of the Obvious...8

The only reason dandelions are considered weeds is because they are so prolific.

Master of the Obvious...7

If you're not sweating, you're not singing the blues.

Master of the Obvious...6

Foolishness may shroud in print.

Master of the Obvious...5

Debris always lurks beneath virgin snows.  

Master of the Obvious...4

Blood is the ink of every worthy contract to glory.

Master of the Obvious...3

Falling down is a typical first step.

Master of the Obvious...2

That which is most enticing is also that which is most difficult to achieve.

Master of the Obvious....1

There's a reason honey and stingers are associated.

Things the Universe taught me...
(an incomplete list)

 *stay off of...
*water towers
*little white pills
*and cheerleaders.

*every highway has an end
*there's a ditch on both sides of the road
*there's always bigger engines
*only a fool races in the dark
*it's not cool to shake, rattle and roll all at once

*coffee tastes better than beer
*sugar and salt have a balance
*nobody makes bread better than mama
*the taste of coconut suntan oil off a tanned, bare shoulder is the best dessert on the planet.

if you want to stand apart from every other man
*call a watch a timepiece
*say 'sir' and 'ma'am'
*remove your hat in a building
*and let your only scent be honor.

*take a little time every day to sit in the quiet
*listen to the dark and the universe will speak
*make a practice of slowing your breathing
*touch your mate wanting nothing in return
*find one thing for which to be thankful every night.
*practice listening to God without asking for something.

*turn off the television
*the stereo
*your cell phone
*your lights
*and your inner monologue.

*live every day to the full
*don't be afraid to do something that inspires fear
*when fear tightens your throat muscles, spit out everything that dares you
*commit to the moment
*be certain you're not acting foolishly.

*when the loving's done, never...
*turn to the wall
*go to sleep
*turn on the television
*check your email
*make small talk
*ask if it was good for her.

*never, ever...
*teach a fool
*challenge anyone with greater firepower
*make a fist to a weaker one
*train somebody you may one day fight
*give more ground than you took
*and, by all means, never say 'no'
to a lady to whom you meant to say 'yes.'

on a better day

sometimes
when I sit and cry
and realize
there's no reason why
I have to give
it all away.

there's nobody left
to blame it on
and I figure out
that I'm on my own
and I know no
revelation's coming.

there are times
I let the darkness in
and settle into
whatever's left within
and know no one
will knock on my door.

light will dawn again
in the morning.
it will drive out
this cold storming
and I will stand again
on a better day.

Divorce

the streets were wet
but no rain had fallen.
we appeared to stand tall
but the truth was we were crawlin'.
 
it was unending hell.
all day long and every night
we lashed out in fury
but neither was right.

we argued without words
but spoke with our hands
we struck so hard
but no blow could land.

what fresh hell is this
where the pain is within?
how could we resolve
this gut wrenching sin?

we screamed and we shouted
but only with our eyes
we spoke out our truth
but only through lies.

the kids went to their rooms
because they couldn't bear to see
our home crashing down
in painful misery.

the streets were all wet
but no rain fell.
we seemed to be fine
but were in hell.




 

Song of Songs

Song of Songs (Wedded Bliss)

I poured oil over her forehead
and watched it flow
down her face
to drip from her chin
onto her neck and breasts.

Standing in evening's
half-light
the fading sun danced
a golden gleam
and with her hands lifted
there was glory
in the room.

Oil is Presence
is blessing
abundance
unfiltered joy
and it covered her
to pool
along the planks
of the floor.

Anointing
rained from the throne
and we fell
into one another
celebrating that which was
ordained
before time began
in the heart of God
and consummated
in the blistering
near crazy
and immaculate moment
on sheets of fragrant
cool linen
in air saturated
with incense
and joy.

With that amazing blessing
two became
one
in a land
flowing in rivers
of joy so full
it laughs and sings
dancing
to the thrill
of wonder!

Hell on Wheels

Hell on Wheels

He comes around here
every blue moon
but to hear most folks tell it
that's about one blue moon too soon.

He'll order up several stiff shots
and drop a few quarters in the machine
and sit real quiet on his stool
seeing things most boys never seen.

Not one word will cross his lips
but in his eyes you know he's gone
some say to some sweet lady's arms
but others say he's in Saigon.

He'll order up another and another
then he'll stagger away from the bar
step into the dust outside
and climb into his buddy's car.

He won't come around for a spell
and some will whisper he died.
But that's about the time
he'll walk in from outside.

Hell on Wheels is tattooed on his forearm
but he'll never talk about it none.
He just sits there sippin' his poison
and listen to the echoes of his gun.

Someday he'll stop comin' 'round here
but we'll pour his glass full anyway
and in a silent bar we'll lift ours
to the silent soldier who finally drew his pay.

December 4, 1919

Nobody reading this, apart from my brother, will care, but today, December 4, 2019, would have been my dad's 100th birthday. My dad was a flawed man, but he was a good man. A brave man, who valued honor above everything but family. For us he would have stolen, even killed. But that was unnecessary, because old fashioned American industry fueled his inner engine, and he tirelessly labored to make sure we had every need, and most wants, fully met.

He was my hero. He had feet of clay in boots of iron. I've seen him fight and I've seen him love. War lifted him from the fate of every Arkansas share cropper, and at the end, he could buy and sell most men. 

The last words he ever said to me was "I love you." He used that phrase with far too much economy, but when he said it you understood he was serious.

He is beyond my hearing, but I must say the words meant more for my brother and I than he...Happy Birthday, dad. We love you.

Chambered

chamber a round
and step into the
darkness.

ignore the acid taste
in your mouth
and the tightness
in your throat.

push away the fear
and focus on that small noise
around the corner.

ask yourself
if you're sure
certain
that round got chambered.

remove your finger
from the side of your nine
and wrap it around your trigger.

you know where the sweet spot is.
that point in the pressure
built into your weapon
when you know it will fire.

take it just this side of discharge.

now...
make yourself swallow
hold your breath, and...

step around the corner
and do your job.

the rope*

 I had no calculation on its
stress factor.
it was given to me long ago
and I've used it ever since.

some of it has frayed
and those bits I cut away
forgetting about them.
it still appeared as strong
as ever.

...but then the rope broke.

the end came suddenly
and I've been thinking
of synonyms ever since.

swiftly.
immediately.
quickly.
fast.

and I don't even know
if it broke on my end
or the other.

it was of no matter
whether I used good
sturdy gloves
or observed proper procedures
for securing the rope efficiently.
 
when a rope breaks
there is no hint
it will happen.
it simply fails
and you die.

I am as surprised as you.
not devastated
because we all know
there comes the sudden
separation
and the fatal fall.
but knowledge is not equated
with preparation
with readiness.

there are no questions
that, if answered
will fix everything
and make for
a happy ending.

it is simply over.
it is done.
finished.
beyond help.
terminal.

...the rope broke.

* Please understand. This is not about a rope. Think about it.

Gypsy

I called her Gypsy
and she said
I wasn't far wrong.
I smiled when she
looked through me
as though
she knew something
I could not.

she exhaled slowly
falling into my embrace
the way the cresting sun
climbs the horizon
nearly imperceptible
in its trek.

I tried saying something
anything to drain her sorrow
but she lay a finger
across my lips.

her hollow heart
yielded to me
and I understood
it was not important
who held her tonight.

she needed strong arms
and a soft place to fall
that's all.

to my surprise
we did not talk.
I just held her
wrapping her body
into mine
folding her soul
within my soul.

just before daylight
she gently pulled away
and sat upon the bed.
Sorry
she said
and I told her not to be.

a sad smile spread her face
as she gathered her things
and walked away.

I only knew her as Gypsy
and all she knows of me
are my arms.
yet I think I know her better
than others I have held.

sometimes the dawn rises angry.
sometimes the fear is raw.
sometimes the only truth
is a blood red sky
and a hammer fall.

I knew her as Gypsy.

Tender Dreams

Tender Dreams

Last night
I loosed earth's cables
that had bound me
to the soil
and I flew!

I flew!

The starlings welcomed me
and I darted with them
learning the Anthem of the Sky.

The starlings introduced me 

to flocks of swallows
whom I joined in their
fluttering ballet
and we mesmerized all those
ground bound
with the beauty and the glory
of our magnificent sky dance.

How free were we!

Many are tender dreams
but some are so filled 
with wonder
we are the less for the waking.

Her Cowboy

Her Cowboy

She called me her cowboy
as we stood in that Tulsa rain
but I was unsure we ever could
get past the anger and the pain.

I knew she was trying to
ease the tension and trouble
but for all her trying
the distance just seemed to double.

Some things can't be diffused.
Some things are sure to explode
here in this midnight rain
or a little further on down the road.

I guess I am her cowboy at that.
Guess she knows I will not stay.
By now she knows this is the scene
Where the cowboy rides away.

The Angel's Road

I'm your guide up this dusty road.
I know its ruts
I know its ditches
I know its hungers
And I know it riches.

This old road and I aren't friends.
I know its falls
And I know its rises
I've seen its poverty
And I know its prizes.

Hopes are born on this dusty road.
Losses are suffered too.
Travelers grow weary here.
Some lose their heart
And all they hold dear.

This gritty road climbs upward.
Most slow down near the crest.
Some think joy's around the next bend.
But for every sojourner's journey
Is a sojourner's end.

I'll be your escort on this road.
Sometimes you'll see me.
Often times you'll not.
But be assured I'm always near.
Never believe I've forgot. 

Appalachian Parting

Appalachian Parting 

I stood before the skies
and listened to your lies
so your testament of love
means nothing.

Oh, but lover, can’t you see

that never would I deceive
and thou art in error believing
I could do you wrong.

These mountains of smoke
know the heartache you wrote
and I am leaving here tomorrow
to return never.

Please lover, act not in haste
for it would be a waste
to burn to ashes
the passion we once knew.

Say no more, my one-time love

I am taking boots, hat and gloves
and will ne’er see you more
until that Resurrection Morning.

My heart is sure to ache

in the error that you make.
Please, let us reason together
and find some margin of truth.

I’ve nothing now to speak

toward the agreement that you seek.
Our time spent is as nightfall
and our loving as the snows.

Dance of the Dolphins

Dance of the Dolphins

My spirit leapt with the dolphins

off the starboard side of my boat.
Their song was crystal music
and the symphony they wrote.

Above us stretched the heavens
dense with starry host
and I felt with me the company
of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost.

I felt no need for fellowship

of people, female or male.
I had everything I needed
in both sea breeze and my sail.

My journey could not be measured

with a timepiece, sextant or chart.
It had little to do with travel.
It had no ending, as it had no start.

Perhaps it was dreamlike.

Maybe it was all just in my head.

It may have really happened

or came as I lay sleeping in my bed.

But I long to sail one more time

and watch the dolphins dance.
The destination, you see, is pointless.
I simply need a second chance.

Tangled, Knotted Pieces

You tugged at the frayed end

Knowing what damage you were causing.

I had not the knowledge of repair.

Some things are beyond a simple fix.

Everybody saw you.

You destroyed the fabric publicly

While I stood by in a stupid stare

Of unbelief this could happen to us.

Ultimately, the many-colored strings

Lay in a clumped heap on the floor.

Everybody walked away in a hush

Until I stood alone, gathering the remains.

But there is no repository for such material.

Some return to offer consolation

But all they really want is to enjoy my pain

Hoping I will weave a new fabric of bitterness.

One day you will suffer in the knowledge 

It was by your own hand you caused this misery.

By your own device you crafted this contempt.

You swallowed pain like bread that day.

I will burn these tangled, knotted pieces.

The bright conflagration will be intense but brief.

In a moment all will be grey and cooling ash.

You will travel the long path, in festering sorrow.

All else will have their memories cleansed. 

Even me.

Talisman

it was nothing
but a chunk of wood
no bigger than a cell phone.
turning it in my hand
it had clearly been baked
by more than a century
of Arkansas river bottom suns.

my knife carved it from the remains
of my great grandfather's pole barn.
half way up its length
was the mark of an axe slash.

my dad's dad's dad left that mark
back in the 1870's
when he came to this remote
river edge, lifetime's ago.

i freed the axe slash
from among its brother's
without much thought.
it was as if it simply appeared
in my palm.

that insignificant piece of wood
was my only connection to the man.

how transient is the past!
always moving further away
like the stream surging beyond 
the remains of that old pole barn
the river always similar but never the same.
some sage remarked that
you never step in the same river twice.

i kept that tangible link
to my intangible past
for more than twenty years
until it failed to make
my last move.

what might my great grandson
one day slice from my leavings?
some yellowed script
from a passage i wrote
but never liked?

better i should offer him
the slashing from a hickory stump
as my talisman to time.

Beside Your Fire

Sit me in an old chair
With an hour’s worth of peace
And I’ll return to you a story
Of love and mercy
And comfort that doesn’t cease.

Pour me a warm drink

For the chill deep in my bones
And I’ll make you a present
Of joy, unmingled with sorrow
A free heart, undamaged by angry stones.

All I need for you to do

Is grant me this time beside your fire

And I’ll weave my tale
Of war and peace
That’s all I need and require.

And when the time is spent

I will walk softly to your door
Leaving you to think on things
That trace your footsteps
And will do so forevermore.

the precipice

journeys to the precipice
have become familiar to me.
i have mapped every avenue 
to the edge
to the raw 
unwavering light
beyond what we know
the very brink of
beginning and end.

i go there
and come home again.

i accompany souls
but i return alone.
it is a terribly good endeavor
that blesses 
those with whom i walk
but bleeds me 
time and again.

i sit in silence
when comes the urgency
to go to the border 
one more time.

teach me how to die
she said
more a command
than request.
for a little less
than a year
i taught her all i know.
then she departed
and i waited for
the inevitable other
and the renewal of the teaching time.

they come endlessly
some with pain in their eyes
others come maimed, scarred
disabled
and desperate.
i abide daily with these. 

but this truth i have not disclosed...

every journey to the border
leaves me the less
until my time comes
and i also
do not return
on the morning of the good
pure
and loving 
Light.

The Worst Kind of Liar

The Worst Kind of Liar

Early winter snows pile and gather
Hushing Chicago
The way a mother hushes her baby.

The buses will still
Belch diesel 
Groaning at every corner.

Tomorrow
The steady tramp 
Of thousands of cold and wet feet
Will again beat
As any army 
In route step
Up and down State Street
And Lower Wacker.

But this morning
The skies are butter milk

And the buildings
Boulevards 
And avenues
Are comely in their blazing
Gowns of pretended purity.

They are all
Whitewashed sepulchres.

What lies beneath
Are worn salt boxes
Drained whiskey bottles
That have one remaining swallow
Of lies and broken promises.

Sleeping in the snow      
Are the bodies
Of the dying
Their breath so shallow.

The death rattle begins for those
Who will go unremembered 
And unmourned
Some only fifty feet
From a rescue mission
Or emergency room.

The snow is beautiful this morning.
But do not buy its promises.
Fresh snows are the worst kind of liar.

Anam Cara

Anam Cara

She would sing
With eyes closed
And her body undulate
Like growing things
In a shallow river bed
Below clean water.

She spoke more to me
With her eyes
Than she ever did
Through language.

Her touch was ethereal
And though years
Have spun me away
Seems I feel her hand
Yet in mine.

She invited me
To sunsets
Thunderheads
And snowy village walks.

She was scented in vanilla
And, below her tongue, was the honeycomb.

She was just here
A moment ago.

She never left
But gave so much
Of herself
I live off the excess
Of her grace 

Soulful beauty
Charm
And lingering shadow.

True lovers never leave.

Even their absence
Is occupied with the presence.

In No Particular Order

football and porn
he says
not in any particular order
he says.
it occurred to me
i never saw him smile.
seems he had no reason to lie.
perhaps the closer
one gets to their truth
the less compulsion they have
to deceive the hearer.

he talked easily about 
two young girls he pays
for sex.
he leaves hundred dollar tips
to bar maids that are
nice to him.
i remind him
that all bar maids are nice
to any fool with money.
but it's not "nice" 
he's trolling for.
it's their flesh.

tonight he's in a particularly
chatty mood.
outside the rain pounded
like hammers on coffin nails.
i want the rain to flood the world again
just like in Bible days
he says.
i want it to rise all the way
to my 23rd floor apartment
he says
so i can open my window 
and kick the baby bodies
as they bob by
he says.
i look at him
but he just stares down.

gotta go
he says.
the girls are coming by
and i don't wanna be late
he says.

will they die in your flood?
i ask.
i don't give a damn
he says 
as long as they do their job first.

it occurred to me 
that he never looks me in the eyes
either.

Cycle of Life

sculpt for me
from my own will
what brings my heart
and soul to thrill.

write for me
upon my mind
what stirs my yearning
sojourn to find.

quicken my hoping age
in need
to plant a furrow
of burgeoning seed.

whisper into my
patient ear
all the promises
a man holds dear.

lengthen my days
as autumn grows cold
and hours are wagered
as commodities, bought and sold.

and take this pain
from my own breast
and gently summon me
unto my rest.

Where This Is Headed

you are simply beautiful.
the kind of beauty
that burns the retinas
stabs the heart
and disorients the mind
leaving the tongue 
to sputter foolishness.

age serves me well
as a filter
allowing me to capture
what is visually appealing
yet guarding the heart
shielding the mind
and cautioning the conversation.

i feel no need to touch you.
your sable softness is a trap
into which i had fallen
multiple times before.
so, if i already know
where this is all headed
i can just smile
and wish you well
as i sidestep disaster.

i mean
if you don't mind
all that much.

i've gazed into eyes
exactly like yours before.
the method you use 
to entrap innocent fellows
like me
is to open up your tender heart
and allow the viewer
to imagine exactly where he'd fit
in a space of gentleness like you're
giving away free.

but it's not free
is it, darlin'?

i've bankrupted myself
on 'free hearts' just like yours.
so, apologies sweet thing
but i really need to make tracks now
'cuz if i don't i'll want just one more look 
then i'll ask your name
and 'afore you know
i'm in some nasty tattoo parlor
getting you inked in whatever's left
of my leather skin.

so, i'm sorry, baby, but i'm goin' now.
but before i do...
what did you say your name is, darlin'? 

A Stitch

come on
she said.
we're burnin' daylight
she said.

i still don't know
what she meant by that.
her's seemed to be
the only hurry in question.

so we walked.
step on a crack
break your mother's back
she said.

but my mom was long dead
and i doubt she much cared
whether or not
i stepped on any crack.

don't tell me i'm wrong
she said.
a man who lives in a glass house
shouldn't throw stones.

ain't no turning back now
she said.
but i wasn't there to hear her.
as i'd turned back awhile ago.

a stitch in time saves nine.

Linda

Linda saw more

With sightless eyes

Than I have in six decades

Through mine.

I told her she had beautiful eyes

The color of chestnuts.

Smiling, she said

She did not know colors

And I felt foolish

For having said such a thing.

But her easy laughter

Dispelled my gaffe.

When Linda sang

Birds hushed in embarrassed silence

And when her song ended

I could not speak.

It was a holy moment

As though in heaven

God smiled

And the altar sparked

With light and heat.

But that is not something

I could say

Through my once youthful lips.

Age has taught me better

And I wish I had said as much

Sitting before her

Cross-legged on the floor.

She bowed her head at her Steinway 

And her chestnut eyes misted

Like the cold November evening

Beyond her window.

Time and circumstance

Are harsh on friendships.

Linda is a memory now.

But occasionally

When I need cheering

I take Linda from the album cover

Among the dusty files of my mind.

Nobody watching could understand

The hushed pause a brief moment required 

While my inner ear

Placed the stylus in the groove

And I listen once more to Linda sing.

My foolish brain wonders

Whether the loss of sight

Was Linda’s stylus

And the subtraction of one gift

Became the addition of another.

....Linda....

My dear friend

You remain always beyond the horizon.

I will someday find you.

Not with eyes

But by the groove in my listening heart.