Morning.
My window open
the new days view
in front of me

So bright the birch,
fresh burnished by the sun
standing in front of
the lichened wall.

the hanging bird feeder,
full of grains,
waits for the birds that
rarely come.

the cats
who reign here
have exiled or
killed them all

huddles of green spikes
push and elbow to the sun
rush to flowerhood

In the warmer months
The ladies sit on the bench
And watch the passersby.

The ladies are old now
Some very tired and frail

They talk amongst themselves
And watch the passersby.

They were all young once
They were all girls once

Some sassy, some quiet
Some thin, some on a diet

Some undoubtedly wore lipstick
And tight skirts

Some went to Sunday school
Some were flirts.

Now they sit on the bench
And watch the passersby

When my daughter rides by
on her tricycle
She smiles and waves

The old ladies smile and wave back
And just for a moment
You can see the girls they once were

Life in my kitchen
I cooked lima beans today
No taste of anything

Papa she cries
underdog underdog
So
I
conscripted
ready
and at
the exact split second
my hands against her ****
I tense
and run
and push her
and up
and up
high on the arc of the swing

Underdog?

The autumn harvest
rowan thorn elder and yew
winter food for birds

dark fire,
images on my eyes
are they real?
I see the road where I walk,
broken cobbles
they cut my feet
my blood the color of a rose in summer
I walk because I have to.
I dream??

There is a train in my head
that shunts from ear to ear
whistling at intervals,
sometimes the train diver
goes high to the top of my skull
and my ears pop.
I was thinking that there
should be clouds this high
I haven't seen any yet.
I haven't seen any eagles either.
Maybe my skull is in the back country
where nothing grows and nothing lives
I will get another train tomorrow
and will bring my own lunch

For them a short life
Easter lambs cavort no more
dinner on Sunday

I thought that if I took my writers block
And cut it into pieces
I could build a wall
And, being higher
I would see the Eastern Dawn sooner

That way I would have a leg-up
so to speak
on all the other writers and poets
and gain an advantage.

My words would be brighter, cleaner, newer
Ready to go
To fit into my line
And make a poem.


But clouds came,
the light dimmed
And the words stopped.
There will be a tomorrow the weatherman said

Part One. The Kvetch

I am starting to wonder
about the Daily Poem:
Is love always forlorn,
never requited.
Is there an alternative to angst.
where did laughter go.
smiles that blaze like  a sun
turning  a face into an ode to joy:
are they forbidden.
poets write of *** and their lover’s bodies
mostly cold, mostly clinical.
Never feral, never lyrical.
Oy

Part Two.  It’s Spring after all, time for a change

Can the algorithm be dialed up to happy
set to silly and plainly sappy
I started this poem sad and gray
Somehow I changed to light and fey
It’s Spring after all, time for a change

custom chocolate
with drizzled caramel sauce
morbidly obese

the sky crane lifts slabs
third floor in a new building
lots of noise today

daily sun shone hot
bright summer blue in London
back to gray today

my pet dog emma
ten city blocks is not too far
the rain is not cold

As a child
I was born a catholic
and unknowing
and not yet averse to religion
my knees endured
the long pains
of high mass services
in my monastery school
where the old abbot
held up by god
eventually finished
and the sun still shining
outside the church door
we hormone confused bodies
were released
to boyhood

moment of madness
SPT makes nice likes twice
gift of a goddess

Death gathers us up
In manageable packets
we know our sell-by dates
are strictly enforced and
unknown to each other
we line up to go
to that final place.

Now?? we ask.

We fervently avow
Our belief in god
hoping for a last minute reprieve.
when do we go?
how do we get there?
Is there a real difference
between destinations?
As dead do we have rights?
is it a democracy?
is it really a one way ticket?
can I be on standby?
what if I don’t like it?
can I come back
and have another go?


As yet I have
no answers to your questions.
I will keep you posted.

Is it wrong to be serious
and somber of mien,
with downcast eyes
and a body so lean
that a ray of sunlight
making dark into day,
would find no impediment
on its straight made way.

So I live my life
not too-giggly much
but happy and content……………        
……………..my days lived as such,
that all who know me
cry “fellow well met”
and time will quiet spin on
while I live ……..no regret

words thrown all about
egos and allies in thrall
no one really cares

words click in my head
liars dice in a barroom cup
spill fact or fiction

my pet dog emma
a schnauzer from end to end
her barks shatter glass

Today in the park
new smells enrapture my dog
again and again

The autumn harvest
berries of rowan thorn elder and yew
winter food for the birds

contemplation
has not helped me overmuch
action works faster

Men are men
and women are women
and never the two will tweet

whipped by the wind
the waves wash ashore
tidying the beach and
making smooth the sand
so that lovers
drawing hearts with sticks,
can make public their desire
for one tide at lest

Two parentheses
above and below white space
"Liked" by many. Why?

april fool today
most pranks are just plain silly
sadly some can hurt

my pet dog emma
giving and loving her all
too hard to resist

My child plays
and mutters
to her other self

the two of them
one dominant

the other passive
act out the game

Alpha and beta
vie for equal time

My child plays
and utters
her right to rule

my brain
failing two times
to achieve the hour of two
does lie awake
and seek news
reassurance from familiars
wonders from the untutored
wisdom born in by stones
who come to frolic
and leave cairns
to say goodbye
till tomorrow

Last night was scrub-sky time
lightning for light
thunder for admonition
rain to wash away all trace of the day
wind to dry off the wet branches

today is a bright day
clouds like spring lambs
chase and frolic with the wind
playing the trees and chimneys like harps
dusting all the corners

my dog
streets now cleaned
every pole a beacon of desire and remembrance
what’s a girl to do
with a multiple choice question

me the writer
observers of facts and fictions too
just feeling good
tree music in my ears
the warm sun promising Summer

forgiveness is all
to each other our benison
there is a tomorrow

emma trending  now
her internet fame now real
sleep is the answer

took the train down south
fabled city St. Louis
the river flows through

my followers come
three by three makes nine in all
a crowd starts with one

Huginn and Muninn
fulfilling the augury
fly North at nightfall

creativity
works in mysterious ways
found object sculpture

No haiku today
my mind just says no way bro
just take the day off

in perfect order
the waves all with white fichus
die quietly on the beach