The Rapture of You

I feel you
As the wind feels you
Know you
As does the earth.

You are fresh
As sea breeze is fresh
From the salted coast
Mixing with fields
Of saw grass and grains.

As morning rains are soft
You are soft
Your touch as gentle
As mist
As insistent
As time’s inexorable passing.

You are the melody of evenings
The glow of starlight
You are the urgency of breath
And all that charms me.

You are the warmth of sunlight
The fullness of bread
The hope of tomorrow.

When measured against the rapture of you
All else is ordinary.
I fall into you
As leaves from the limbs of autumn.

All I long for
Desire and need
Is met in you.

Finished

I have seen too much blood
Too many bodies
Splayed across gory floorboards
Draped over crimson beds
Slumped on shattered steering wheels
Or swaying from wooden rafters.

I am surprised to discover
I have an inner quota
And can stuff and pack
Not one more dead child
Fresh-faced teen
Or broken woman or man
Into my ledger of the dead.

I discovered this
By loosing all composure
While lying in bed
On the apron of an eve
When suddenly all those empty
Lifeless eyes
Spilled from my heart
To shatter the night.

Step by step
An inch at a time
I have eased away from the certainty
Of one more dance with death.
I have no further word of comfort
Not another expression of compassion
Or prayer for the dying.

I am finished.

I guard my heart.
I protect myself from the Reaper.
He will come for me someday
And that’s fine with me.
But please do not ask
That I stand watch
When he comes for you.

Weighing it Out

I’ve stood on this ridge before.
I have viewed the broad expanse
And have weighed the risk
Against the possibilities.

I know that he who never risks
Can never attain.
But I also know that he who always risks
Will eventually be prey.

So I stand here again
Balancing one against the other.
My inclination
Is to ease into the tree line.

My gut warns my silence
Leave no footprints
And know that opportunity
Is sometimes only bait.

My Best Buddy

You wag your tail
When I fetch the mail
And wait for me
By the door.

But I gotta thought
This ain’t how it ought
‘Cuz you’re the fetcher
Not me.

When you go out to poop
It’s me that must stoop
To pick up your junk
From the lawn.

Seein’s how I’m your boss
I’m left at a loss
As to why I’m doing
All the work.

You want food, I fix it
Never grumbling a bit
But you don't lift a paw
To help me.

You snore in my bed
And mess with my head
But I put up with you
Every night.

You stink when you’re wet
I take you to the vet
And care for
Your every need.

You do as you please
Sometimes you get fleas
And bark your snout off
When I'm trying to read.

You get your paws muddy
But you’re still my best buddy
Even though you zig
When I zag.

So, hop up in my lap
And we’ll take a nap
Then we’ll watch what you want
On TV.

Castro

Nose, like a sail
Jutting beyond cheeks
Of steel wool
His thick, pecan skin
Pocked and filthy
He looks like Castro
On a bender.

Red eyes, like bitter wells
He surveys his world.
Gulping diesel exhaust
He belches curses
In slurred Spanish.

Staggering at the curb
He swills from a bottle
Wrapped in a paper bag.
Angrier by the moment
Castro spins a swaying circle
Gesticulating at all he sees
Summoning an imaginary firing squad.

Dismissing the world
With the flick of his wrist
Castro squats in the dappled shade
Of a scrub bush
Chin nodding
Into his soiled shirt.

In his wake are broken children
And more than one woman
Who cringes at his memory.

But Castro is heedless
As he again rises
To lecture the assembly
At the red light.

I’d Rather Be Lonely Alone

I’d rather be lonely alone
Than be lonely tonight with you.
You’re killing me bit by bit
With everything you do.

Your wondering mind is wandering
And you’re little more than a stray.
I worry over who you’re with
When you walk from our home everyday.

The phone calls you try to hide
And your evasive replies
Are the stuff of shoddy fiction
Half truths and outright lies.

I’d rather be lonely alone
Than be lonely tonight with you.
But try and give me a reason
To think you can be true.

It’s crazy to sit night after night
Listening for your key in the door
Hoping you’ll finally come home
And love me like you did before.

I try to convince myself
My mind’s playing tricks on me
And I’ve no reason to fear
But no one’s so blind as he who will not see.

I’d rather be lonely alone
Than be lonely tonight with you.
I’ve tried and I’ve tried to believe you
But there’s nothing more I can do.

I’d rather be lonely alone
Than be lonely tonight with you.
I’d rather be lonely alone
Than be lonely tonight with you.

Jelly Roll

Great splats salt the boulevard.
Chicago shrugs its shoulders
Traffic and commerce rhythmic
In pursuit of capital.

Warm summer rain drives me
Into a fragrant bakery
Rich, sweet smells rising
Like mist off the lake.
Around me, conversation buzzes
Like Joseph’s many-colored coat.

I smooth a bill into the baker’s hand
Buying a jelly roll
As rent for a stool by the window.

On the rain-silvered street
Horns protest
Tires sigh
And umbrellas sprout
Like mushrooms
From the forest floor.

Where are you?
I wonder if the same rain
Pelts us.
I hope so.
It makes the world feel smaller
The distance between us
Less large.

Too soon the clouds brighten
The rains ease
And my jelly roll is eaten.
Time again to assault the streets
That remove me further away.

Always away and never toward.

Unfamiliar Stars

Morning’s sun rose in the north
Spreading new shadows across my floor.
Amazed, I ran into the yard
Peering over gables
Between spreading maple limbs.

High the bright orb climbed
That blazing sphere
Until, at its zenith
It reversed
Angling toward the delta
Coming to ground
At the foot of farms and factories
Rivers and lakes.

Remarkably, only I observed this peculiar anomaly.
There were no news broadcasts
Commerce continued unimpeded
Wall Street made money
And the government took it.

But I saw the universe
As a spilled purse
Scattered beyond understanding.
It’s been this way
Since you left.

Familiar patterns have changed.
I teeter on a line
Too fine
A path
Too perilous
And navigate by unfamiliar stars.

I must be patient
Hold onto what remains.
Reason will restore
Old markers will renew.

Life will settle
Like dust
Trouble will leave my door
And shadows will again rightly travel my floor.

Not All

Not all poetry is passion
Not all tears are mixed with rain
Not all love is pure; old fashioned
Not all poor decisions bring pain.

Not all sunsets are hued pink
Not all lost loves get renewed
Not all dead skunks stink
Not all clumsy drivers get sued.

Not all noble deeds are feted
Not all nomads live in tents
Not all quotations get repeated
Not all dents can be unbent.

But every foolish thing I say
Will be written on the sky
And I’ll pay a month for every bad day
I must live before I die.

The Frightful Canyon

There is a yawning chasm
Into which every man must look
Toe to the rim
Wind at his back.

In that mighty and vast emptiness
One may see
His own barrenness
And the manifold array
Of weaknesses
Temptations
Foibles
And the recalcitrant nature
Of his inner darkness.

It is a bone-chilling
Bleak experience.

Into that darkness
A man sees
The child he was
The man he wants to become
The thing he is
And the wide spectrum
Of differences.

Failure to make the pilgrimage
To this frightful canyon
Is to so fear your own humanity
That there can be no recovery
No reclamation
No mastery of one’s heart
No fidelity to one’s mind.

It is a fearful haunting.
It is a soul-numbing thing.

But a man cannot be a man
Otherwise.