Mountains

Mountains fascinate and inspire

A flatlander notes the difference 

A hill dweller sees how a hill does not compare well

Contrasts get our attention

The magic of mountains

Compares to the spirit of the sea

Mountains evoke challenge

To climb, sure

But also to conquer in other ways

literally and figuratively

I've seen mountain goats and big-horn sheep walking the rocky cliffs of mountainsides

A feat far from human 

It reminds me of our advantages over other species, but in areas of our choosing

We do not compare our climbing with that of goats and sheep

Or our flying with soaring eagles

We are wise this way

We look at a tall mountain and it reminds us of climbing and flying limitations

It's good for us to be humbled by a giant mountain

Reminded we are in and of nature

Not owner or manager

The ocean scares me the way tall mountains do

I can't swim or remain underwater like a fish

Swimming pools and climbing walls return a sense of security

Our relationship with mountains is themed by fear and thoughts of inadequacy

The mountain reminds me of struggle, of conquest, of obstacles, of success

Looking at a mountain in a time of struggle

Evokes thoughts of difficulty

But when I exult

The mountain speaks of how I overcame

I, in a fit of madness...

I have been away

I mean just the other day

I left a Granny Smith apple

In the car to bake

In the hot sun

In a cry for help

A man should not do that

A good man has his mind

A way to stay on track

Fit for the light of day

Fit for others to love

Fit for himself to love

Of all the things I might do

Of all the sins to commit

Of all the ways to act

Madness I am certain

Madness enough to enrage

Madness with a tinge of sadness

Nearly forgot my vision of you

Nearly got lost in the jungle

Nearly went out to pasture

Threw it all in your face

Threw in the towel

Threw up on me

It was you who said

It was long hair you loved

It made it hard to cut

All in the way I sang you said

All in the way I talked

All in the way I was good

Away from all that

Away out here in the big chill

Away from our friends

For the way you are

For the sake of us

For the love of God

What you are doing is rescue

What you are saving is my life
What you are is a beacon

Roll Away The Stone

Love sits between we recently challenged

And long unchurched souls

Whispering in our ears

For us to pay attention when we nod off

That the end of our days will be before

It gets up to so much as take a leak

Relentless as it is, in its way

Foreshadowing now in our wedding vows

As have the years of handwringing

And walks with us in the park

Suggesting we talk nicely, taking our time

Noticing the trees, flowers and breeze

Tracing our shadows on the concrete walk

And letting our souls flaunt these bodies

Above the grass for a while

Rather than below it

Catering to our best whims

Coordinates pinpointed by stars

And though our fate be bedraggled

By issues, events and occurrences

Letting us feel the thorns

Of embarrassing revelations

Buried beneath rolling down rocks

As from mountainsides

Or as from castles crumbled

During the erection phase

Entombing our once-waving limbs

And our names be besmirched

What is appearing will betoken

What cannot yet be spoken

For nothing thus begotten

Can long be kept at bay

Or always be abridged

Or rival the atonement

Or match our aplomb

At the rolling away of the stone

Writing Poetry Is Like Work

Work is hard

So is poetry

I would rather play than work

I would rather daydream than write a poem

People don’t like hearing about other people’s work

People don’t like reading other people’s poetry

Work can be hard to learn

Poetry can be hard to learn

Work and poetry have the same ingredients:

Force, displacement and cause

An example of work is:

A horse pulling a plow through a field

An example of poetry is:

A horse pulling a plow through a field

When a weight lifter puts weight over his head

He has done work

But he has also written a poem

When a poet writes a poem with his head

He has done work

Even though he only put a lamp over his head

Two joules of work result from

One newton of force times two meters

Two jewels of poetry result from

One Robert Frost in thought on two ideas

A compilation of noteworthy non-sequitors

The Apostle Paul was never the same

After the trip to Damascus

Ulysses should have sailed quickly home

From the Trojan war

We usurped a continent

Only to contract an anti-immigration virus

The great depression

Followed the gilded age

World War II came on the heels

Of the war to end all wars

The fall of the soviet empire

Rendered the cold war moot

Lincoln’s assassination

Concluded a life of valiant service

Kennedy’s death in Dallas

Was preceded by Camelot

Obama winning the White House

Came out of nowhere

Your life and mine followed from nothing

And will return to the same

History is a compilation
Of noteworthy non-sequitors

Prodigal Propitiation

She said take down those poems
No one reads them anyway
As if I were a cigarette butt to crush
With her boot heel
Only she doesn't smoke or wear boots
I don't even smoke, unless you count dreams
And I hung up my steel toes for 
Moccasins, long ago

I drag out a cross and say
Here, nail me to this
For the sins of all men
Sort of the first all-women's Calvary
And I think of the word propitiation

We had our kitchen 
Redone recently and I can't
Remember the word countertop
It comes out sink or shelf
Suddenly I'm cutting onions on
The thing, kitchen countertop
But by god, I'm gonna be a savior
A propitiation

My tongue keeps rolling in my mouth
Like I've seen cow tongues do
Til I think it'll start bleeding
But I doubt they'll write a New Testament over that

On my birthday I got a call
She had bought tickets to
See our team play
Little did I know
Those were my last days
In the graceful land of the uber confident 
Now I'm back where I started 
Doubted by everyone that matters 
Especially me

Welcome home, young man
Let's kill some battered tofu 
Eat, drink and be merry
For tomorrow, the sun may never rise


Sent from my iPhone

Happy Birthday To Me

Happy Birthday to Me

I wonder…

Why do I do what I do?

Instead of watching TV?

Or playing the lottery?

Or making dulcimers

Or fiddling with tools

I think:

Some things I do,

I do with mixed emotions

But most of the time

What I do

Is bereft of feeling

I know…

I am no barracuda

In the food chain

No William James

In the library

No Pilgrim

In Progress

No Buddha

Sitting still

I imagine…

If I had money

I’d give it away

Me talking big

We’ll see on that

I bet…

If I were smart

Somebody would

Know it by now

And have me branded

With the mark of the best

I feel…

Numb to the touch

Alone in crowds

Happy in bursts

Up to my neck

I hope…

Oars are for rowing

Sails for blowing

Wind for moving

Horizons for seeking

I assume as much

But…

I remember Walt Whitman

The way he asked us to

Now if only I could

Tell him as much

And if only I could

Touch tomorrow

The way I feel

The wind and sun

Touch me

In the end…

I have vital signs

Enough to make

A hospital machine

Draw lines and go beep

Happy Birthday To Me!!

Happy