Should I jump up as high
as I can with youthful might,
Impressing mom with a new
Found power possessed in my
Shoes.

I can fall back at any time
Laughing child delight
At the capacity of the simplest ideas.
Regressing only to fall forward.

Too lonely for a seat
I can't face all these grey clouds
That's why I'm walking on a back street.
Walking through my universe with
Sawdust on my bare feet and
My back to the shaded sun -
My foot tap - tapping to the
Drum beat.

Only hearts and lonely souls can
Smile at this sluggish mist yet
Disaster strikes and darkness rolls
I wonder on and clinch my fist.

Too deep to fly,
Too sad to cry
"Such horror and pity and pain"
My only hope is to say goodbye
To my great friend the sluggish sky.

If I stay down or rise above
Will I ever find the back street?
Will I ever hear the drum beat?

Or is the sky my only gain -
A place to find myself
And wash my hands in the
Dark rain.

Our home pure
With morning ritual
Fragrances of shaving cream,
Old Spice, and coffee.
I awoke and prepared for work
Practicing your habits.

You were an artist
Weighted down
With your clothes and hard hat.
I struggled with herculean steps
Into the room to kiss mom goodbye.
Adorned with your spare
Tool belt and giant's tools
I peddled down the driveway
Off to fix everything

I began to understand
My voice is best unheard .
For contempt of time
Brought unkempt grief.

A white padded scream,
Almost silent, rang down
The overhead streetlight and
Recalled my childhood

I caught myself listening and
Stifled a laugh.

In 79 those same buzz-lights
Distracted my quest for adventure
Under cold silver store racks -
Sensitive ears I guess.

Standing
Motionless on a stone.
Where else
To feel the sun above
The reflecting water.

One can feel out of place
In nature so warm.
Even one ant diligently working
In a five gallon drum must
Recognize seclusion.

Out of the hot sun
The shadows grow tall.
Sand and dust and quick to run
Laughing eyes - eight years young
Reaching out to kick the ball.
Excitement to pride
A sudden fall.
Whip-cracks and rocks sting
The ball bounces away
Lifeless like a rag doll
Bone chips and blood.
The shadows reach and
Touch new mud.

Cold pine floors
Greet her tears and steps.
Knees already worn -
Artie Shaw's Nightmare.

A lone leaf holds out
Green and whipped by the storm.

You sip your coffee and watch
Her fall away.

You deserve another minute
For laughter
More time for giggles
Another hug, bed time stories,
Silly tickles
Dancing in the window frame
Through thunder storms and turning rain
Quick outside a blue jay sang

Your ballerina toe tip your tiny
foot slipped
Into a final pirouette
Hair brushed warm and bathtub wet

Across the room your waiting bed
Is restless for your dreaming head
As the blue jay cries and flies from there
One more sunrise cries your silent stare

Floating above the fallen colors
Your fragrance mixes with the
Sweet decay of discarded leaves -
Forgotten.
An aroma blending perfectly
You are a blooming flower
Standing tall
Despite your desperate hours -
A honest friend.
For daylight slides off you
Warming my eyes away from fall -
Natures mascara.
Moonlight glows from within
Calling for an end to autumn.
Not many are allowed this close
As you have come and I feel vulnerable
because you can read my weaknesses
Which are scattered about like
Crumpled paper on the floor -
Discarded lines of bad poetry.
I want to forget them
If I could just change some
Lines.

Picture me
      Raking leaves
Through the backyard window.
               Sleep sweet dreamer
And allow warm minded glimpses -
Heavy eyed fences.
         Behind me calls a friend and
I turn away.
         Out of sight you
Hear of weather, politics, and preparations
                            For a storm.
You called whisper-voiced
Tall
Dimple eyed beauty asleep
In my arms by the backyard  
Window we fall warm coated
And small.

The bride and groom are positioned in the hall.
A father locks hands with the daughter
And remembers her birth.
Outside a jet streaks
Across the cloudless sky -
Leaving contrails.

This wedding gown weighted down
Like a train positioned
On a track;
Allows for easy movement in one direction -
Forward not back.

Toasts, familiar laughter, conversations
And the din of dessert forks searching
For the next bite will echo a lifetime
Like moments that flash
Into snapshots of memory.

Father, daughter, mother
Embrace on the landing in a moment
Of celebration and breath a sigh.
The conductor calls and checks his watch
As time will have his way.

I walked into your house.
The still air, silence,
And dust in the sunlight
Reminds me of the room
A grieving mother refuses to clean.
It's easy to see you
Didn't plan on dying.
Your grocery list waits on the counter
Amid your notes and written reminders.
You placed plates and cups in the sink
To wash later.
And the stacks of books you planned
To read cover the floor
Near a broom leaning against
The kitchen table.