A man laughs and jokes while soberly
picking his way through the plate set before him.
Frolicked youth clings to warm eyes
as concerns of today’s tomorrow flavor all
that he takes and all that he offers.
Such is the dinner. Pass please and passed.
By coffee he becomes the bent grandfather
honored at table’s end, folded into a large chair,
focusing on a trembling cup and trying to catch
a familiar word in the buzz of his family.
June 06, 2008
A box of new crayons
smells of inspiration.
The optimism of creation –
in twenty-four vivid hues.
of color and form.
Hope and desire unfold,
a gesture away, as a
universe melds into being.
In the elegant web of her creation,
she curls into herself.
Hiding behind Clara Bow –
clothed in leopard print –
there is no order here.
A dervish cyclone of fear and regret
discharges convention leaving
a social expatriate tangled and broken.
Indecision and inability torment equally.
Action and inaction plunder her soul.
Should she stay?
Should she go?
Will he call or with distant attention
will he pass by?
Confidence and contrition
fall from her lips like roses and reptiles –
bewildering the world with paradox.
December 28, 2005