The Voice

Nobody reads you
You know
Said the Voice.

It’s not as if
You have anything to say.
Perhaps shelling peas
Is better work for you.
Or sorting socks.

The Voice never leaves.
It is a steady accomplice
To my malefactor life.

Again?
The Voice whines.
For God’s sake
Stop wasting paper!
Think of all the trees
Your “poetry” murders.

I hang my head in shame
Allowing
The Voice
To conclude its
Daily indictment.

If I were made to
Read your crap
I’d plead and beg
Merciful God
To end my grinding misery.

Better yet
Said the Voice
Let’s put your
Reams of poems
In a basket in the bathroom
And save on all the
Toilet paper we buy every week.

I fold my hands
Squeezing my eyes
Hard shut.

Very well
Said the Voice
You cannot write
What you cannot see.

But the Voice does not understand.

That is precisely
What I do.

Most Bashful Note

It came as a solitary note
Sounded
From an unseen piano
Teasing
Inviting investigation.

As a momentary
Touch
It arrived
First
Near
Then further away
Leading
There
Then once more
Here.

From whence
These gentle flirtations?

Unnoticed
By others
I distinctly heard this
Phantom note
Not lifted
From earthly scale.

This briefest of symphony
Had its source
In loftier orchestration
Than any of Terra.

A purer music
Than any yet afforded human ear
I amazed at its arrival
Wondering at the scale
From whence its escape.

Were I to seek
It would evade.
Were I to examine
It would flee.

It visits
When I cannot apprehend
And settles
When I cannot grasp.

It brings me to smile
As a drop of rum
At sunset
The smile of a friend
Beyond my gate
Or the impress
Of a modest lover.

Most bashful of notes
I will yet discover
Your origin
As have you
Mine.

From Charleston Harbor

From Charleston Harbor

Dolphins raced
Our bow
Their sleek
Shiny bodies
Breaching the waters
'Neath our craft
As fresh winds played
At our sails.
The canvas sighed
And banners popping
At our lofty topmasts
Came as the shock
Of cannon fire.

I anchored near our
Bowsprit
The twin spritsails
Catching salty mist
Hurling it back
Until its brine caught
In my beard
And fell in great drops
From my mustache
Onto my tongue.

Come about lively
To starboard!
Commanded our Captain
And the joyous dolphins
Matched our course
As we made for sea
From Charleston Harbor.

Far to the rear a seaman
Beat a drum
And every action along the
Teak deck
Matched his brave cadence.

Our lines reached
Toward cloud and sun
Appearing as the work
Of a great sea spider
Who’s weaving mastery
Enveloped our world
Of hull
Deck and sail.

The topmast forestay
Held fast to the jib topsail
Casting shadow
And dancing with me
As we moved along the
Meridian of the sun.

Twelve feet to the waterline
My dolphin friends chattered
And squealed
Like children laughing
And for a few moments stolen
At the bow
Racing the sun
Chasing the spray
I was the oracle
Of sea
Sun
And sail.

The Rain Came

So softly fell the rain
I was unmindful
Of its arrival.
It came on little cat paws
Until the earth was full
Of its silver sheen
And only I surprised
At its coming.

The rain came
Like the visit
Of an unexpected
Favorite aunt
Saying
I really cannot stay
But I so wanted to see you
Today.

The rain came
Like taps at end of day
With a sad aching
Of the heart
And I unable to discern
Between raindrop
Or teardrop
At the corners of my eyes.

The rain came
Leaving behind bolt
And thunder
Arriving like
A butterfly perching on my sill
And I halt in mid-step
Unwilling it leave prematurely
Lest I not be awarded
The seize of its delicate
Color and grace.

The rain came
And I barely felt its phantom touch
The touch of a bashful lover
Wanting intimacy
But fearful of her own desire.

The rain came
And I nearly missed its embrace.

Our Laughing Fire

Our fire kept night at bay.
George’s soft guitar
And Ronnie’s tin whistle
Played for us
And I found my disobedient feet stir
Commanding my legs to follow.

Soon
My entire body entered the rebellion.
My arms stretched toward the stars
Fingers spread as one who might
Dare grab the moon
As a fielder may
In snaring a towering outfield fly.

I imagined
The deep drum of ancient Celts
And I moved along the whirl
Of timeless mysteries
Abandoned to reason
Delighting in communion
With tall secrets
Only the ghost of time ever knew.

George picked his dry box
Ronnie charmed with his whistle
And I danced with shadows and haunts.

We played and I danced
Until the gossamer of morning wakened
The canopy of space
And we fell along our dwindling fire
And stars dreamt
And sleep seized us
Until we were freed
By retreating mystery
And the forest floor
Once again
Was but loam
Cold fire and pine needle.

We broke camp that noon
And moved far from one another.
But when I hear strings
Or the shrill notes of a tin whistle
I transport to a long ago eve
Dancing before
Our laughing fire
And a shy pale moon.

Carolina Breakers

Standing in the surf
Within Carolina breakers
The tide rolling
My hips
Sand washing my feet
Above
Gulls calling
Circling
Diving
In high arcs
And swoops.

Sea brine
Bit my tongue
While last night’s rum
Boiled my belly
And I still felt
That heady swirl
Compliments
Of Capt. Morgan
And a gut full of
Last year's venom.

There is little romance
Where sea grasses kiss the dune
Where tides polish sands.
Here all is reduced
To the incessant rhythm of seas
And the dare
To stand alone in the tide.

Somewhere beyond the breaker
And coral reef
Lie the bones
Of fools like me
Who believed in sirens
And maidens
That slice and laugh at the dying man
Who staggers
Within Carolina Breakers.

The Dancer

The Dancer

Oh, how she danced!

She danced
With abandon
Passion
With joie de vivre!
The whole of her being
Condensed into graceful
Exaltations
Of movement…
The tilt of her head
Rigid symmetry of torso
The whirling sweep of her slender legs
And obedient command of ankles and feet.

She danced
Translating both majesty
Mystery
The glorious beauty
Of all creation
With control of every tendon
Muscle and bone
With every cell of her sleek body
Her flashing eyes
Piercing gaze
Her long
Nimble fingers
Sometimes spreading a web of desire
Sometimes knit across her swelling breasts
Always telling a story
Making mere words wither
And pale.

Her long dark hair
Soft as starlight
Flaring and beautiful
As Spanish Moss
Falling on the shoulders
Of southern trees
She tightly bundled
When she danced.

Dance was her breath
Dance was her purpose
Her life
And her love.

She was butterfly
And fawn.
She was sunlight
And storm.
She was industry
And sex.
She was fury
And passion.
Oh, how she danced!

I see her yet
On the brightly lit stage
In the theater of my mind.

She danced
And she danced.
Oh, how she danced!

But for all her dancing
She never danced for me.

The Circle of Promise

I don’t want to do this.

You don’t have to.

Good. I won’t.

But you did promise, didn’t you?

Yeah. Sure. But, come on. I mean….

What? What do you mean?

I don’t know. It all seems so...you know?

No. I don’t. I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me. I want to hear this.

Okay. Calm down. Let’s just think about this.

No. Hell no! I’m tired of thinking about it. All we do is think about it.

But what if we do and they find out?

Who cares? I mean, who really cares?

I do. Don’t you? You care, don’t you?

No, dammit! I don’t care. I did once. Maybe. But I don’t anymore.

Then why should I? I mean, you just said you don’t care, right? And if you don’t, why should I?

Why? Because you promised! And a promise is a promise, after all, right? I mean, it is, right?

You know what? No. Any promise should only be in force if the conditions originally agreed upon remain true. And they don’t any more. You said it yourself. So, no. I’m done. I’m through.

But…you promised!

The LZ (a Memorial Day Tribute to our Fallen Heroes)

They marked our LZ
With yellow smoke.

Coming in hot
We drew fire
All along the perimeter.

Our rotors stirred
The elephant grasses
Whipping them into a sea
Of green lashes
Snapping like thousands
Of angry serpents.

Streaking green tracers
Stretched for us.
AK rounds pierced our thin
Aluminum skin
And I waited a thousand years
For young Marines to
Run like hell
For our open door.

Our gunner poured it on
Screaming and laughing
Through his shock.

The sharp tang of cordite
And acrid wisps of hot oil
And leaking coolant
Filled the compartment.

The gunner continued to scream
Above the chatter of his .50.

Three boys fell in the grass.
Six gathered them up
Dragging their limp bodies
Leaving greasy red streaks
In the tall grass.

High above
A Jolly Green circled
Like the Angel of Death
Raining bright flashing hell on the jungle
Setting fire to the earth.

The gunner shouted in my ear piece…
Go!
Go!
Go!
Do it now!
Go!

I poured the power on
Adjusted the prop pitch
And felt the earth falling away
Clawing for sky
Straining to live
To carry us home.

We trailed thick black smoke
Across the china blue.
I felt the Huey stutter
As the bright green grass
Reached for us.

It’s amazing
The vast sum of thoughts
That spear the mind
In the half second after you know
It’s over.

A shattered rotor sheared
Through the glass cockpit
Like the Hammer of Thor.
Shards of glass
And bits of aluminum
Became lethal shrapnel
As our Huey
Dug into the earth.

All was flame
Dirt
Glass
Bone
And flesh.

What will Laura think when she sees the Chaplain coming?

*
• LZ is “Landing Zone”
• Yellow Smoke comes from a grenade purposed to designate where to best land as well as obscure what is happening within the smoke
• Jolly Green is a gun ship, bristling with fire powder
• Huey was the American helicopter workhorse

Sometime in the Night

Sometime in the night
The rain turned to ice.
Had she been awake
She would have heard
The light scratching at the panes
Made by the falling pellets.

But she slept.

Sometime in the night
She dreamt
Of his warm touch
His fierce embrace
His left hand under her head
His right beneath the small of her back.

She inhaled his exhalations
Felt his beard against her face
Knew the warm melding of their
Complaint bodies.
This was her dream.

Sometime in the night
The ice thickened
The tapping at the panes
Growing more insistent.

Her dream changed.
He was out there
Somewhere in the night
Calling for her
Wanting her to come to him.

But it was so cold.
It was so dark.
He was so far
Too far away.
She saw his beckoning arms
His fingers stretching toward her.
He was becoming a block of ice
Frozen
Encumbered with ice
Falling down
Falling.

Sometime in the night
She awoke.
The tapping and scratching of ice pellets
Transitioned to heavy snow.
The trees
Electric lines were covered white
Bowed to earth.

Turning on her side
She huddled under the thick blanket.
Her husband lay beside her
His mouth open
Lightly snoring
Hands folded across his chest.
He was ice
Ice
And he was layered thick upon
Her life.

The one she once knew
Long ago
Was somewhere in the night
Tapping
Scratching
Freezing
And she would never know him again
Never know
What it was to be warm
Ever again.

Chance

His strawberry roan grazed
In grassy clumps
Along the river bank.
The aging man called
Chance
Sat against a willow.

The sad branches
Draped
Both horse and man
In its gentle embrace.
The mist rising
Filled the nostrils
Of human
Horse
And toads
With a forlorn
Wistful aroma.

Many years had passed.
All was different now
All that mattered
Irretrievable
And Chance's body was
Weary
His mind
Heavy
His road
Played out.

Chance
Ate the last of his bread
Drank the last of his coffee
Smoke the last of his tobacco
And studied the last of his thoughts.

The saddle was lifted
From the roan
The bridle and blanket
Tossed on the damp earth.
Chance reflected that he, too
Was just another piece
Of the mix
Scattered along the riverbank.

Chance
Let the small fire
Burn to embers
While the mist thickened
Into a white shroud.

Chance
Retrieved the Walker
From the worn leather holster
Checking the rounds
In the wheel.
All is as should be.
The roan made contented noises
As it moved downriver
Among the sweet grass.

Somewhere
High above
Stars complained to the night sky.
Leaning hard against the willow
Chance
Made effective use
Of the powder
Packed in one brass casing.

And the roan moved along the bank
In the closing gloom.

Lovely

Standing beside the bed
I watched her sleep
In morning light
Streaming the window.

The blinds diagonal shadow
Banded her
Like a candy cane
From toe to head.

Her breath was deep
Her breasts rising and falling
Her right hand under her head
Her left across her tummy.

I pulled the blanket
Below her chin
Kissing her cheek
Then sat back in a chair.

There are moments
The best memories
Flow by
Without narration.

They accumulate like
December snow
Piling the years
In times both hard and easy.

Soon she will awake
Make her morning tea
And ask whether the dogs
Had been out.

I know her
As I know my own ways.
I love her
As I love my own flesh.

Isn’t she lovely
Asleep
In the morning sun
Painted in shadow and light?

Welcome, Small One!

This morning, at 8:15, my son and his wife presented me my first grandson! I am thrilled beyond description. He is, as yet, unnamed, but this little guy has been blessed to be in a family of those who will love and nurture him beyond limit. I haven't yet seen him, but will soon cradle him in my arms, and walk him into a quiet corner, where I will pray blessing upon him, as I have done with others who came before. He honors me in the promise he will bear our family name into the depths of this century. May he do good, love well, work hard, and achieve much.

I love this wee one.

~~ Grandpa James

Comb the Wind

Some day I will
Lay my body down
In the sands of a forlorn
Beach
Patrolled by gull
And sand crab.

I will exhale my vitality
Into the grey
Between surf and sky
And climb from this
Broken body
As does a warrior
From the wreckage
Of his conveyance.

I will climb the clouds
And mount the stars.

Left to the sands
My ribs will comb the wind.
The tide will wash me clean.
My bones will bleach
In the salt and spray
Of the surf’s ivory.
Like the hulk of a forgotten machine
I will be dismissed.

Let my legacy be
The love of all things beautiful
The mystery of life in clay
The majesty of truth in language
The passion of breath
The joy of song
The power of truth
The peace of approaching dusk
And the hope of renewing dawn.

But for all this
Let my ribs comb the wind.

Cold Camp '99

The best camp
I ever hated
Was the
Cold Camp
Of ’99.

There were no sounds
But that of
Crickets
Cicadas
And whatever prowled
My perimeter.

There was no fire
Other than stars and planets
Fierce above.

Dull thoughts
Plucked at my heart
Rendering discordant
Needless strain.

There are times
It is reasonable
To reject joy
To have no diversion.

It is good
To stare into the darkness
Knowing anything may be
Staring back.

Early in the slate
Of morning
Lightening strobbed
And thunder rolled the river.
Great splats of rain
Threw their cartridges
Against the nylon of my tent.

Until the monochrome
Of dawn
I wrapped my soul
In the ensuing deluge.

Sometimes
An empty heart
Requires a Cold Camp
To sharpen the blade
Against its strop.

Aces and Eights

Don’t let it bother you
She said softly to me.
I don’t need to know this.
I just wish you could see.

I thought if I told her
It may help her understand.
But no amount of talking
Could change the cards in my hand.

Aces and eights were what I saw
So I folded them away.
Maybe we can talk again later.
Maybe another day.

I don’t think that’s likely
She said softly, a second time.
You’re far too much a dreamer.
You want a dollar for a dime.

Aces and eights is the death hand
Marked by tragedy and blood.
A chill shook my body
Like an irresistible flood.

Don’t let it bother you
She said softly once more.
Then she retreated into the shadows
And walked out my door.

Aces and eights were in my hand.
She could not deal new game.
What’s in the past is in marble
And it will never be the same.

Earth Grazer*

She was an Earth Grazer
A bright
Brief
Flashing streak
Of color and thrill
That skimmed my horizon
Like a stone across water
Flaring away.

While visible
She delighted me
Illuminating the beauty
In this world.

She drew me into her
Optic.
All I saw
Wanted to see
Was her fascinating splendor

But Earth Grazers never stay.

Her sparkle
And brilliant pain
Of sojourn
Is only implicit
In suffering.

She made me know beauty
In the framework of deep night
And quiet sorrow.

She was an Earth Grazer
And I the sky
In which she blazed.


* FYI...an "Earth Grazer," in physical science, is a meteor that glances the earth's atmosphere, skipping along it much as a stone skips across water. There will be a quiz later.

The Path

Give me my dog
And a little sunshine.
Give me the noon warmth
And some apricot wine.

Let me wander freely
Across mountain and meadow.
Let me take the path
That the sundown wind goes.

Then all will be mine.
There is not else I need.
I will have the whole world
And my soul will be freed.