Friday, October 25, 2013


what happens at 
the end of something
you’ve written
a poem a story 
a song a myth
it’s left you
with all that you’ve hidden
alive in a messy rebirth
what happens my friend
what happens is this
you are left floating
in your own blue sea
the sky above
burns magnificently
you study the world
around your prison
the door is now open
you can leave indecision
your cell has a poem 
a story a song a myth
the jailer discovers
and guides what comes next

Sunday, October 20, 2013


who do we feed when
we feed the hungry
why are they named
as are so many
are called in a land of plenty
who feeds a small hunger
to nurture a wonder
when hungry describes
the best of us
the worst or the rest of us
how do we know
what fish hits the mark
do we grow it or throw it
do we preach it or teach it
who do we feed when
we welcome the hungry
ourselves and then
all and sundry
ourselves until we
open the boundaries.

Friday, October 11, 2013


gatekeeper, gatekeeper
lend me your key
you’ve done it all wrong
and have not set free
the classes, the races
imprisoned faces
here’s how it’s done
how the wars are won
take that key
duplicate once or many
spread the word
leave control unattended
trust what happens
when gates are opened
each pulse has a rhythm
every breath is a gift
more eyes can see farther
more arms can lift
another to freedom
another to fight
another and another
creates strength not flight
lend me your key man
though I am prone to blather
I have no fear of the
the thoughts of another
gatekeeper, gatekeeper
rattle the keys
share the burden this time
unlock disbelief

Wednesday, October 2, 2013


she rode an alligator
as a child
 its skin was tough
its temper mild
 until a threat
large and true 
forced aground then fell 
to the blue 
it swam for her safety 
toward what she knew 
the alligator saved her
from hobnailed hearts
took her far from the 
drunkards and thieves who bartered
did as they pleased
in sunlight and recesses
darker than sad dances

she found strength
and managed those passes
she rode an alligator as a child
its skin was tough

its temper was mild

they’d sung a private
battle hymn 
for a child
she longed
for his strength
found that she missed him
the alligator
calmed her bones
and promised no harness
no strings
she was needed
and started to sing
did she miss him and kisses
she hardly knew
wearing alligator shoes?
when the author hisses
does anyone know
who is the wife?
who is the child?

she left the alligator
on her way to bold chances

halted her mad need for things
she struts unobserved
can a band save your life
who is the child?
what needs to be preserved?
start to sing unobserved
in the land of false manses
be poor and be rich
make them guess at your answers
I am here on the back
of a creature that hisses
I am here
that's a fact
get used to it bitches