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.