If you only have time for a few

Dear Reader,

If you only have time to check out a few poems, here are my favorites:

Nothing's Lost

Change Your Fate

October

Poetic Justice

The Hour of Relative Impermanence

Cosmos in the House

Identity

Magic Poem

This is My Life

Pencil to Paper

Lackadaisical

Comments from 2009

Scrapbook

Nothing's Lost

Nothing's lost.

It's just retained

in memory;

sustained in time

by impressions

on the mind.

Nothing's lost

but nothing gained

for this that is now history.

It occurs to me,

despite the pain,

that it will be forgotten -

though love remains.

Forgotten, forgotten

And what the cost?

I still believe

that nothing's lost.

Images -

and so specific -

address my mind,

and in terrific tunnels of feeling,

I find

we are the same.

Yin/Yang is a famous harmony

we cannot be together

but still, we can see:

hearts hold to love dearly

like a fragrance, or a feather

and what, through our disunity

we destroy, or we weather

will be mended,

and retained.

We'll not speak together as ever

before

- perhaps we'll never speak again -

but tell me, darling, what's the cost?

I still believe there's nothing lost.

- Nov. 2, 1987, A.D.

Change Your Fate

It's fate, that's all --

my usual state

It has to happen

It has to hurt, too

But you can turn it around

I always do.

Why, this feels perfectly right for me

A melodrama, meant to be

You can do it, and you should --

Turn the bad around to good

Turn the arrow, facing up

The sky's the limit

Come with me.

You need some pain

Come on, don't deny it

You need some fate

Just look at me

Don't I look good in my agony?

Don't I glow against the gray?

You can do it, start today

I'll conjure pain enough

to share.

It's fate, that's all

You know, destiny

And with my help, you can have some, too

But you can turn it to good --

I always do.

- April 25, 1986, A.D.

October

Every night

that you are gone

I lie in my bed

and I imagine your touch

and your warmth

I think how nothing opens me up more

than your caress.

The wind whispers outside, in the dark

and I feel your kiss against my neck.

The breeze in my ear

is your breathing.

Warm, bare-skinned bodies

your chest against my arm

your thigh on mine

two bodies, intertwined

your hand moves softly, gently

across my skin

your kiss is on my cheek

you pull me in closer

outside, leaves brush against leaves

lips brush against lips

they dance and fall from trees

as your hand moves down my spine

the wind presses the windowpane

against its frame

you press your body to mine.

I was never so alone

until your branches

got tangled

in my own.

- March 29, 1986, A.D.

Poetic Justice

Chills,

Thrills, and Spills

My soul is wriggling

beneath it's skin:

"Let me in!  Let me in!"

It's so sad to be Anonymous

and even I, myself, mistaken

I am shaken

to the bone

By Metaphor, Persona, and Tone

I am filled 

beyond my limit

with Symbolism

and Imagery in it

And just today, I've made my choice:

the world will know this poet's voice

So let the critics speak their fear

that yet another poet's here

And gladly starve, and gladly rot

for after death to share the spot

within a textbook, or a journal

or a placemat, or a paper

and though fame is known to taper --

Let me clearly be defined 

with little numbers by my lines

and little footnotes, stand to reason

when my speech is out of season

that professors will interpret

just the lines that they see fit

And happily, I'll face the hunger

both above and deep down under

but from the world, I do command

one single, solitary stand:

That in life, we be acknowledged

for the labor of our poet's hands.

- Dec. 16, 1985, A.D.

The Hour of Relative Impermanence

The hour of relative impermanence

slips by like a ghost --

kind of hazy and midnight blue;                kind of

soft and satisfied

I lower myself onto the paper

it takes me;

we breathe together

Listless river of night

soothing pond of time

we dream,

we use our words in the silence to say 

yes.

Yes, we know them well

Yes all will be complete

it's a dream, you know

don't be afraid to face it

we make these dreams

the day is functional

the night is cerebral

we make these dreams

We sift ourselves in time

Is this me?

Or, it could be this

notations and footnotes

I could be an essay

I could be a piece of cheese

But no, I am a Yes

I am a sultry Uh-Huh

moving smoothly down that placid stream

with a persuasive mellowness,

I communicate with my existence

Sensations unite

it's the hour of relative impermanence

I dream,

alive

and in this dream

I write an essay               And it says

Yes.

- Dec. 11, 1985, A.D.

Cosmos in the House (Dedicated to Carl Sagan)

I found a black hole in my

cupboard one day

it opened up wide

and nearly swept me away

I found a super-nova

in my cereal bowl

from then, I don't care so much

for Cheerios

And I found the moon lurking behind

my closet door

But it was waxing on my clothing

and it waned all over my floor

It was the day that the Big Dipper

came right out of my oven

That I knew this cosmic-domestic

combination had to end

I tried the strongest cleansers,

but they didn't seem to stop

the trail of Haley's Comet

from landing in my pop

I must admit it is distracting

as I try to get to sleep

when underneath the sheets,

I find a floating galaxy

Or when I sit down to watch the news

on my old T.V.

And shooting stars come popping out

to block the entire screen

I even called the exterminator

and he was blown away

He barely squeezed in through the door

because of the Milky Way

And even with my laundry I do have

substantial doubt

Because with Saturn's rings-around-your-collar,

you can't just Shout it out

And yet, I may be growing fond

of all these oddities

I guess I really shouldn't complain

if the Universe wants to live with me

I suppose I like the fact 

that I have something that's unique

Because I like to take the nebula

for a walk along the street

And maybe it's not so bad

when I'm sitting down for tea

If the Cosmos comes into the room

and has a drink with me

Yeah, I guess I'll keep these little guys

no matter how much I hate

to see dust clouds in the kitchen sink

or lurking on my plate

- Aug. 5, 1985, A.D.

Identity

Nautilus star, sunshine glow

brave, amidst a pale sea of suns

nebulas have wronged me

constellations have deceived

I am alone within my sea of dreams

no molecule can touch me

without burning to oblivion

I am hot glow

I am quicksilver sun

my ancestors rest on different planes of the ONE

don't stare at me too long

I'll burn your eyes right through

don't think of me too much

I'm nothing like you

don't try to find your place here

don't ever seek the truth

I am sun, light, shadow, darkness, 

me and you

Ride the orbit around my soul

I can touch you with my burning rays

don't look at me too long

or you might lose sight.

Perhaps you're on a distant planet

studying me with your telescopes

you know my chemistry

you know my physics

but you don't know me

Blister sunshine, inward glow

I am starlight

I am moonshine

I am hot, sweaty suntan sister sun

heat radiates until all is ONE

don't stare at me too long

I'll burn your eyes right through

don't think of me too much

I'm nothing like you

don't try to find your place, here

don't ever seek the truth

I am sun, light, shadow, darkness

me and you

Don't look at me too long

or you might lose sight.

- May 5, 1985, A.D.

Magic Poem

I'd like to thank the girl in Lindsborg, Kansas,

who one day, instead of killing herself,

decided to find this poem and let it change her life

I'd like to thank the old man in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania,

who always longed for a poem to be written about him,

who read this,

and let it make the difference

I'd like to thank all of the lonely people

who helped create this magic poem

for themselves

who knew that somewhere inside,

they had something very important

and waited all their lives to read

these words

I'd like to thank all of those on the verge of despair

- and some who are beyond -

for finding their poem

and for finding hope

here

we are all together

And finally,

I'd like to thank you, with your

sadness or frustration or unrest

for wanting to make it to the 

next line

of your magic poem

Tell me,

you feel like you're the only one, don't you?

well, you are

and yet, there are millions of other

"only ones" in the world

but that doesn't make your pain any less

Tell me, you need somebody to talk to, don't you?

and you feel so desperately alone

you cry in the dark

and you scream in the pain of the light

but knowing is, by no means, solving

Well, here I am

your magic poem

I was created by you, for you

and because of you

I know where you've been

- I've been with you all along -

and I'll be with you till the very end

I'll love you

even when you don't love yourself

I'll care about you

even when you don't care about 

yourself

I'm going to give you a reason

for doing the hardest things in life

I'm your magic poem

and I'm going to hang on for you -

even when you can't

If you decide to kick it in,

I wish you the best in the next world

If you decide to stick around,

I'm proud

I'm really proud

but wherever you're going,

I'm going to get there with you

we can tell jokes along the way

I'll even do so much as unpack your bags for you

and make sure you enjoy your stay

Hello,

I'm your magic poem

I'd like to thank you for making it

to this day

and for creating this poem for yourself

I accept you for everything you are,

everything you feel,

and everything you want to be

This poem is for you

and you alone

I'd like to thank you for letting it

change your life

I'm going to cry with you

I'm going to hurt

I may not make your pain any less,

but I can teach you how to do it

And in the end

- always in the end -

I'm going to make you love yourself

I'm going to call an end to the suffering

I'll help let loose all the grips of pain

and finally,

I will greet you to the new day

I'd like to thank you.

- Feb. 6, 1985, A.D.

This is My Life

A poem day

a stifling, hot, hateful day

a day for the city to sweat from its own hot air

A journey inward

trying, trying for a good feeling

zombies running in a term paper maze

be exact

do it right

this is your life

sleepless nights 

daytime haze

tomorrow looks gray is today already

stomach hurts

wanting to double over

wanting to forget for just one moment the constricting

walls of this prison

nervous laughter

no real smiles

tears from unknown wells

broken bonds

broken promises

plastic people in pastel cages

this is my life

a whisper from a distant realm of my heart

tells me to find peace

no peace

only aching moments

only tomorrow is tomorrow is another day

but not a new one

trying to see beyond the deadline

to life again

everyone wilts beneath the pressure

not today -

tomorrow, I'll try

only promises to myself

take a bow

for something real

one day off is all I need - 

one night on the town

but no one sees the real thing

their heads are turned down

to the words

the words mean well

but are destroyed

I've come so far so fast

and now, what's this?

it is not yet time to break loose

another week and I'll be complete

holding out and holding on

night and day come as extremes

I wanted summer until it arrived

now, I'd do anything for a cold winter

summer only brings fall

and downfall

I will see it through

I will live again

it will happen, I know

Egypt to Falsetto

Falstaff to Francke

Goethe to Hearst

nothing more in this place

but this is my life

I will see it through

- April 27, 1984, A.D.

Pencil to Paper

Pencil to Paper

what a fantastic love affair

to give life to an object

to give meaning -

I lay my soul down for all to see

on this paper

each revealing line sends me skyward

Reader -

if for some reason I cannot love you

by day

if society prevents it

if my self-consciousness withholds me

take to heart these words

you have not been forgotten;

Pencil to paper

a polychromatic dream

to give hope to a wounded soul

to lay at rest your fears for a while;

You know me -

I'm the adventurer

basking in the sun of life

but I'm shipwrecked half the time

it's fascinating, but it scares me

come,

be my rescue team;

Pencil to paper

unfolds me like an origami swan

delicately, I am revealed

crease by crease,

I make myself known

to touch the light

instead of it touching me

to light the light

or, better yet, out-light it

that is my dream

Pencil to paper

is my reality

in mother's arms,

yet total rebellion;

a forgotten dream,

a lover's cry in the dark,

a sleepless night;

all the truth in the world lives

in my pencil to paper existence

- March 1, 1984, A.D.

Lackadaisical

lackadaisical

like-a-daisy-all my life

appears to be a dream

lackadaisical?

like-a-daisy-all is not

as simple as it seems

like-a-daisy-all my life is crazy

and I often cower in the grass

but from-a-daisy-eye life keeps rolling by

so I root until these feelings pass

like-a-daisy skies at times are hazy

don't know what is truth from what's unreal

but I-am-not-at-all as this name you call

and it contradicts the hope I feel

so lackadaisical is not the word at all

call me that but you don't really know

unlike-a-daisy-ary I am quite contrary

to your ceaseless will for me to grow.

(approx. 1980-81)