Soaking It In

I walk

merely for the sake of walking

I don't stop

or wonder. . .

I don't smile or stare or raise my eyebrows

to a thought

but I am open

I receive all the world.

Slowly, unquestioningly, I cross the pavement

The sidewalk feels firm below me

Just in front of every step, the stems of 

dead leaves glisten

the reflections of solitary streetlights

in the Autumn rain

I take a deep breath --

I smell life.

The water soothes me

I imagine myself an explorer in a rain forest

or in a moist, musty cave

or in a future world

I close my eyes

and hear the squishing of wet socks

against the sides of my battered shoes.

Underneath the trees,

the water falls bigger

and harder

Like people who accumulate so much for themselves,

only to find the force that holds them

dropping out from underneath

They fall frightened, confused,

and bitter. . .

Faces, hidden by umbrella colors

hurried feet

anticipation

I, alone, am relaxed

I do have a destination,

but it's unimportant

The rain gently touches the shoulders

of my trench coat

I bow my head,

and feel the water trickle down

into my skin.

- Oct. 14, 1985, A.D.

The Boy and the Girl Who Let it Be

A river of tears spilled out of his desk. the others turned and gazed. There was no way to cover up his embarrassment. He tried to stop it, but at last, let it go. Girls and boys alike picked up their feet and let the river run by. Only one girl kept both feet on the floor and let the water wash over them. The other children climbed over desks and chairs to reach the door or the windows. The boy looked over at the girl, who in turn opened her desk and let loose her own river. Their tears flowed into one and filled the room, and ran out the door. The connection had been made.

The two children then ran through the room, opening desks of the ones long gone, filled with nameless tears. The girl walked back to her desk and dipped her hands in. She offered the boy a drink. He drank slowly and sparingly, and when finished, he went over to his desk and came back, hands cupped, with his own share of tears. The girl savored each tender drop, and they fell to the floor and immersed themselves in the river.

The tears dried, and the girl began to speak. The words fell out of her mouth to form meadows and forests and babbling brooks; and flowers of the brightest hues of yellow, orange, and purple. In response, the boy uttered mountains, valleys, rain forests, apple orchards that blossomed in spring and maple trees that turned the colors of fire in Autumn.

All at once, the classroom became overgrown. The walls disintegrated, and sunshine crept in. The desks became trees, and the chalkboards, boulders. The two children laughed as they looked around at what they had created, and they ran into the woods, leaving old memories of walled rooms and lives to fade away into distant rays of sun that bounced back and forth between the trees and touched every dark corner of the forest. At last, freedom was theirs, as they joined together and united with the sun.

- May 7, 1984, A.D.

Child of the New Day

Sweet, sweet child

with large, innocent eyes

and radiant smile

inquisitive mind

come, tell me your secret

let me capture a ray of your sunshine

Child of the morning star,

how is it that you perceive so well

what we see as complex and impossible?

if I could only gain some of your insight

if I could only see through your eyes

just after noon, you are at your peak,

dancing with the daffodils

and singing for me to come join

if only I could,

I'd be there in a second!

but I must be reasonable

I must think of war and politics

this is truth, to me

Summertime sunset child

lay your warm glow before me

let me catch the last glimmer of another

fleeting day

you have still not revealed to me

the source of youth's insight

why won't you do this one favor for me?

but children don't understand such obligations

you dance before me

but will not let me in!

how can you be so peaceful

in this turbulent world?

Child of the moon

reflecting daytime's glow

how happily you sleep!

don't you know of all the

suffering in the world

how can it not touch you?

alas, my child,

sleep well

tomorrow, you will understand reality

tomorrow, you will be aware of life's

injustices

Child of a new day

don't make humanity's mistakes

keep that warm, innocent glow

never,

never stop dancing among the flowers!

perhaps someday,

I might join you again,

but today,

I must carry banners

and be careful in love

and be cynical towards the leaders

of the people

I must fight for your future

so that you may always carry

the light

I never had time for

Sweet, sweet child

yours is the sunshine that

may melt the ice

and warm the world once again...

- Jan. 30, 1984, A.D.

Every Season Hurts: A Melodrama

Day after day

the leaves fall and blow across the road 

Why they fall is no matter

that they fall is important

I am crushed like a leaf under the foot of life

pay no mind to my tears

Day after day

the snow falls and sweeps through the air

like a silent angel

but the wind bites at eyes and ears

I melt like that snow

becoming grey and washing down the gutter

pay no mind to my tears

Day after day

the rain falls on the sidewalk 

and beats 

heavily 

against every new blade of grass

the thunder drums and rolls along the sky

I am like the rain,

accumulating mud and sweeping over 

the ground

pay no mind to my tears

Day after day

the sun falls down into the horizon

but the heat remains

the leaves of the trees whisper in the hot wind

I am like the sun

living in the memory of yesterday's 

brilliant sunset

pay no mind to my tears

Day after day 

my life falls 

like two suicidal lovers

down the cliff of life

they clench each other as they

fall to their death

but one survives

although broken and bloody,

she still lives

only one lover is always doomed to survive

in my life

pay no mind to my tears

- Jan. 26, 1984, A.D.

The Road

As I walk down the road on this cool Autumn day, I feel like I 

shouldn't be walking alone. And yet there's only one person who 

can take this empty place beside me. But times, like the leaves of 

the season, turning colors and fluttering as tho predestined to the 

ground, do change.

It's a worn path I walk; I know every bump and curve; and it 

can distinguish my soft tread from any of the millions of others 

whose souls have touched this concrete. I do not walk alone.

And the missing person, the one who should be here, never 

leaves my side. She is always with me. If I ever had a hurt or a 

fear in my life, she is my comfort. If I ever needed someone to 

confide in, she is around. I am tragically lost without her, and yet 

I'm never without her. We walk in each other's footsteps, crisscross 

each other's paths, and step synchronized to the same beat of life.  

Now, each footstep I take carries a memory of times past.

But we're still walking the road together. The birds reassure 

me of it. She talks to me thru the crackling of the dry, brown leaves 

under my feet. And she speaks to me thru the whispering wind.

Has it all been said before? by other romantics and poets?  

But it can be said a million times and still be true, can't it?  If it 

comes from the heart? It has so devastated and so moved me that 

I must express. Love is not easily forgotten; friendship not easily 

abandoned; wounds not easily healed. So as I walk down the road 

on this cool Autumn day, she is on my mind. She is here, yet gone 

all the same. My mind races back to the times we once had.  This is 

how I keep her with me. And today, we are as one.

(Nov. 1983)

The Most Untouched Woman in the World

Some women are touched women

they have experienced the pleasures of the flesh

Other women are untouched

they have only experienced the pleasures of their fantasies

But I'm not here to talk about other women - 

only me.

I am the most untouched woman in the world.

When I was younger, I came to a fork in the road.

The first path was ideal - or would have been, 

had the weeds not overgrown

there were wildflowers and maple trees

But there were also mushrooms, poison ivy patches,

and thorny bushes

there was a small creek at the beginning of the trail

that I would have to jump over 

or wade through

and beyond all of the initial beauty of the path

there was a darkness and a sense of danger

which I was not ready to face

So I turned away to the other path

The second path was grassy and freshly cut

it seemed nearly void of all mosquitos and flies,

and I thought it a quaint little path for a stroll

So I chose the second path, in secret hopes 

that it would eventually lead back to the first

Now and then, I have occasional encounters 

with the first path, and yet

it is still so far away

It seems to me that the longer I travel the second path, 

the longer it gets.

I'm walking alongside the creek, now,

very thirsty for a drink

but I can't quite reach the water

it's become too wide to jump to the other side

I see my friends across the stream,

walking along the other path

We see each other, wave, and exchange words

but they are touched women 

I am not.

How funny a thing it is to be walking on one path 

with a friend, and then

turn around to see that you've been talking to a mirror image of the girl across the river

All of a sudden, she is the same person

but in a different reality

And the funniest thing is that none of that really

bothers me

What actually gets to me is that I feel

like I'm running out of chances

Like every man sees that I'm untouched,

and therefore wishes not to harm my purity

Well, listen, world, 

I'm growing a little tired of my purity

And I'd just assume cross the river, now

Will this era of my life will always remain

untouched?

(approx. 1982)

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)

One

I feel not for the stars that shine dimly

But I feel for the deep blue water

that sings my song

And the earth that tolerates its battered life

and still holds me

And the fire that lights my night

And the air that gives me life

I'll meet their challenges and create my own

And when I am ready for the end

They'll take me in and surround me

And hide me

And make us one

(approx. 1980-81)