"A" Poem

The android shifts with animism,
Eyes anneal identity schism;
The acerbic feel of acid in him
Quiets endless algorithms.

Acquit your acrid codes, robot,
Acoustic pleasures please you not;
Adapt to numbers you have fought-
Relief from anguish can be bought.

West Side

Exclusive? Sure not-
Just look at this lot
Spread in shambles all stuck in the ground-
See a sink in the grass
Or a bong as you pass?
It's all part of the West side of town.

Where old women, perhaps
Sit with pets on their laps
Watching game shows all night and all day,
And hip cats live next door
Playing cards on the floor
Til the nightlife will call them away.

You want art? We got plenty
And you won't need a penny-
Spend a day on our canvas of homes
Where the scene is spring flowers
And black tire towers
And a rainbow of fat garden gnomes.

While estates on the East
Stand with eloquent speech
And our homes tend to mumble and stray
We don't get ourselves down-
It's the West side of town-
It's a trip and we like it that way.

The Stones Stand

The stones stand rigid, ancient kings
Beneath their storming sky;
I ask them all the answerless things
And silence is their reply.

The stones stand smiling, mysterious men
With secrets they love not to speak.
Enigmas of myth whisper rumors of them-
Their smiles say rumors are weak.

The stones stand mindful, questioning thoughts
Amidst the thoughtless storm;
The chill assaults my shivering skin
While stones alone stand warm.

The stones stand watching, faces upturned
As rain begins trickling down;
I seek no shelter, from stones I have learned
That through rain I might still stand my ground.

The stones stand mourning, outliving their time
While nothing around them stands still,
And I see in their presence that no eyes of mine
See as much as the standing stones will.


Stonehenge photo:
"Stonehenge." Photo. West Virginia Folklife Center. 24 April 2009 .

End-of-Winter Mind

Everyone's thoughts are for sale these days
The birds are changing their pent-up ways
Umbrellas have holes and our donuts have none-
It's been two months since I saw the sun.

The magazine laid with his face to the sky
And with nought but a glance caught my curious eye
His surface was temperate, smooth and so cool
Like the soft gray depth of an oceanside pool.

She says she works in magazines
But I don't trust the ones she reads
Or anything she says she means...
especially the lovely things.

Upstairs

Downstairs, we were going to dance.
Downstairs, in our great garish getups,
we were going to show them all
what freedom looks like.

We were going to save the world
with our love.

But downstairs, they didn't like our music.
Downstairs they said our costumes were too strange
and our drumming too loud
and our freedom too free.

Downstairs
is not for us.

Slip out the door and
tip-toe up the steps.
Bring your crazy colors,
your bongo beats,
your groovy tunes-
bring your soul upstairs.

Upstairs, we danced.
Upstairs, our costumes abandoned,
together we felt
what it means to be free.

We didn't save the world.
We saved each other
with our love.

Twinkle Rewrite

Glimmer glimmer tiny light
I'm curious about you
High above the earth of ours
You are heaven's sapphire
Glimmer glimmer tiny light
I'm curious about you

Natality

Beneath it all I feel her wake -
The fertile ground which gave me birth;
She's churning now, creating life -
Green stains the palette of the Earth.

From death comes life as petals burst
From paintbrush of the peaceful soil -
The sun smiles warmly at the scene
Produced by artful Nature's toil.

The fresh light sky is cool azure,
A bird's soft chirp sings sweet and clear;
The wind that sweeps my outstretched arms
Brings warmth that tells me Spring is here.

White weight lifts forth from my face,
My fingers spark with budding green,
I taste sweet air and watch the growth -
What bright rebirth we trees have seen.