Crash Into You

Of course, there are moments when you are missed.

Flickering, shuttering, moments…when I see you in the lines upon my face.

Had you held a more sturdy hand…I would have worn less leather…more lace.

I beg for you now, as I had many years before.

The offering of ‘us.’

The magic of father and daughter and the confines of a normal culture.

Morals and majority could never have lived in our home, sweet, home.

Knives and threats were the beliefs in which WE all felt sure…and unsure.

These heroic days that come to pass…feed on every ounce I own with a fervent sign telling all, do not trespass.

To the living and the not so…just another day in which I hope to not crash.

I really, really, really, like you!

When I say it’s you I like, I’m talking about that part of you that knows that life is far more than anything you can ever see or hear or touch. That deep part of you that allows you to stand for those things without which humankind cannot survive. Love that conquers hate, peace that rises triumphant over war, and justice that proves more powerful than greed. ##Mr. Rogers

Swimming

Darkness is a local swimming hole

I glide in and out of it everyday.

Delving about in my art…

exposing bits and pieces of my soul.

And, I flounder in my anger…when I do so.

I account for mistakes like lily pads that have gone astray.

I bargain with hopes and dreams…as though they were in rhythm with the waves.

A dance routine shown to less than a handful.

As stark New Hampshire waters pillage in my depth…I know I must not standstill.

Drawing in the Dust

Evermore you have been there.

Been here.

Been somewhere.

When the dust has drawn a vacancy,

your spice fritters away in auspicious tendency.

It takes great courage to let go of the familiar.

Thus, thru toils and spoils,

a constant chase.

A forever soiled embrace.

And, then…

as a matter of course,

a yield of gratitude…

to hasten the secrets faced.

Meeting House Hill

Twigs and things

Open palm ferns and town pound in the spring

I am a braggart, beggar for distraction

Rainbow pinwheels refusing to remain still and sunsets over a lazy hill

Let me drink you in and always be full

These worries I carry like a hungry dog in search of a bone

These worries are in need of clean fill

Congregations up on Meeting House Hill

Let me drink you in and always be full