Swiftly Go the Days

The Sun hangs low in the sky
On my early morning drive.
She rises just below the visor
Directly in my eyes.
Our eyes
Just one in a river of cars
Barreling toward the morning Sun

What does the sun do all day?
Does it get to go out and play?
Does she watch the children play ball,
Or the first time they walk or crawl?

I may never know,
Because I only ever see her
Shining directly in my eyes
Just under my visor
On my late evening drive
When the Sun hangs low in the sky.


Float On

After months on vicious, roiling seas
A blind man steps into the crows nest
And we ask what he sees.
“Why, an island in the mists,” he cries
And everyone believes knowing it’s a lie
Because the alternative is starvation,
Is loneliness,
Is loss of control.
But nothing is that easy.
There is no plan, no destiny.
No island, no land.
Just reeds
Too wet to grasp
in a river flowing too fast.
No one is in control.

There’s nothing we can do.

So settle into the calm reality
That even to the best of our ability
We can’t escape that cold inevitably.

Lay back, and float downstream,
Let go of struggle,
Let go of control,
Because we never had it anyway.

What Have I Done?

I was too scared
At that critical moment
Rife with indecision.

Could I have known
That their absence
Would reveal perfection?

I am terrified now
That I’ll never know
If it was love or infatuation.

I chose me over us
in a moment of weakness
Now I wish for the moment I missed.

I hold my pillow close
Wishing for their warmth
On a night I’m feeling selfish.

Pick One

Name’yer favorite band,

right off hand.

Sure, ya can.

“Heard em asuh 8th-grader;

I’ll love ‘em forever.

No this’uns better.”

What’s that’ya say?

More got in th’way?

Well ya’can’t stray.

“I can’t choose;

I love all who’s

been my muse.”

Havin’ trouble son?

More than one?

Can’t be done.


Iced Coffee Thermodynamics

Note: Not really a poem, but a structured thought; I guess.

Imagine the atomic particles in your iced coffee;
how the ones on bottom are hot and moving much faster than the cold ones in the ice up top;
how their energy passes through the structured ice which falls to the new flow;
how the ice’s rigidity quells the coffee’s intense fire;
and for a beautiful few moments they are together as One
delicious beverage.

Punctuation as Expression, or How I Feel About the Subject

A comma, a beat rest for a beat change, a thought within a thought,
Then a full bar rest to let the whole sink in.

That’s probably right; I don’t really have a clear idea of it, nor do I of its half-rested partner.

Maybe my expression was in form of a question,
With an upward inflection?

Excitement! A feeling that flows,
From the depth and surface of our souls.

(Realizing)(knowing) how (you)(we)(I) feel in the (rules)(terms)(applications) of (culture)(language),
To (show)(express)(say) to others,
Using the (laws)(conditions)(terms) of a culture(language).

An Ant on my Glasses

Sitting on the grass feeling tiny tickles,
Dull green blades caress where my bare skin escapes its cage,

Lie down and sink into natures carpet,
Kind of itchy but more comfortable and timeless than grandma’s depression era thatch,

My ears twitch from an unfamiliar touch,
Relax, the wind is moving the blades to rub my ears ‘till I sleep,

Drowsily I stare up at the yellow/blue sky,
Light refracts through the cracks in my lens and stings my eye,

A little black dot crawls across my vision,
Resist fear and let him be; I’m here and so is he,

I remove the lens and replace him on the grass,
Contented is he to be at home here, surrounded by food, friends, and life.