Monday, May 22, 2017



DELIVERY
church basement
heart casement window
a family of five
slow motion crescendo
breaks onto seats
at the table I serve
fire pending
boy chasing questions
a family of five
much older descending
slower to speak
at the table I serve
life downward
hot chile with white rice
a family of five
small eyes seek repentance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
this father
man burdened with white lies
a family of five
smells history’s acceptance
slower to speak
at a table I serve
his eldest
eyes growing without life
a family of five
mourns passive resistance
unlearned today
at a table I serve
They come to it again and again
and again there’s no where or when
a family of five
my mantra my alive
in the deep sweet archive
at a table I serve

Monday, May 1, 2017



unfinished
you start out small
half baked undecided
the reverence you learn
complicates arrival
at your feet your head
your heart your denial
until you make a start
with an argument
a holler
then unwillingly wander
into a pen or a brush it
sweeps away all betrayal
you start out small
in your honest repair
one line or two
the masters you learned from
are laughing at you
these strokes
that you dare
this unspoken poetry
is easier than you think
so stop thinking and
be unfinished
for once and forever
dip the brush
draw the chalk
drag the oil through memory
your face is a story
still to be told
your face is the memory
the future unfold
unfinished is sanctity
unfinished is bold
unfinished is memory
unfinished is gold