Finally, I’ve figured out life
It is me here
A blank page
And thoughts of you
Or is it me
A full page
Of blank thoughts?
Anyway, I’ve done it
I’ve figured out life
So I will gather laurels
And take my rest
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
Hoo-ah
Every third Christmas
For three consecutive
The factory of my parents
Produced early-fall loin fruit
All alive today
With offspring
Populated
Populating
Populatable
Hoo ah
Monday, September 2, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Shout Out
This shout is out
To the patient
The compromisers
The persevering
Facers of odds
The uncomplaining
Good-soldier type
Tomorrow I might
Holla at you others
Don't pitch a fit
Today it's props
To my suck-it-up homies
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
Free-verse Sonnet: Hero Story
Like the stranger
I feel no loss
Nor real gain
I find I'm here
That's all
Does that ring a bell?
I watch the papers
What's left of them
And it should be said
The news trickles
How're you?
Is everything well?
I'm no hero in any story
But I'm working on yours
Saturday, August 10, 2013
Where He's Been
Do you ever see people
And wonder where they've been
What they've seen?
I assigned myself a case
We'll come back to where he's been
But for now let's think of him here
Without others who could join him
Who have loved him
Have taught him
Buoyed him up somehow
He'd be surrounded by blackberries
Waving curtains
Nasal speaking voices
The smell of pine sol
But this is he on he
Unless, of course
She wanted to suddenly appear
No longer afraid of being her mother
Or losing her father
Or whatever that was
No, he's here at the beach
Looking at the ocean
And people he doesn't know
Passing without a glance
As if they fathom
He is to be left alone
That he has been in exile
I know, I should have
Introduced myself
And wonder where they've been
What they've seen?
I assigned myself a case
We'll come back to where he's been
But for now let's think of him here
Without others who could join him
Who have loved him
Have taught him
Buoyed him up somehow
He'd be surrounded by blackberries
Waving curtains
Nasal speaking voices
The smell of pine sol
But this is he on he
Unless, of course
She wanted to suddenly appear
No longer afraid of being her mother
Or losing her father
Or whatever that was
No, he's here at the beach
Looking at the ocean
And people he doesn't know
Passing without a glance
As if they fathom
He is to be left alone
That he has been in exile
I know, I should have
Introduced myself
Monday, August 5, 2013
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