My Pegasus

Here he lies
the mentor of my dreams
the listener to my weary woes
who knew me well from head to toe
who joined with cheer in all my schemes
and needed no goodbyes.

No more will I ride him, blithe and free
nor see him jump the fences high
nor feel his hide, taut under my palm
I cannot cry, he taught me calm
and left me with a sigh
to find rest under his favorite tree.

No longer will I smell the tangy scent of him
no longer sense the thrill of touching fleeting boughs
nor stray to see the twilight on his back
nor feel him extra oats in his gunnysack
nor run him after unresisting cows
nor let him follow all his heartly whims.

No more will the sunshine play hide and seek
on his shining coat of black
or the the sweat drops glisten bright
on his forehead star of white
nor his breath go in and back
though of him his stall will reek.

Will he have enough to eat, I wonder...
where he's gone had better be warm
'cause he's left his rug behind
and I hope his stable boys are kind
to shield him from heavenly storms,
it's from up there that raging storms to earth wander.

Life without him I can't fathom
though Mama says I'll get over
losses like these that death demands
life of me my Life commands.
And she says she'll get me Rover
but a dog would only be his phantom.

His memory haunts me now and then
I've tried to teach my children too,
to love all creatures like their own
and not to fear the grave unknown,
to cherish Life and help the few
whose life depends on them.

To His Widow, On His Dying

In the heaps of fallen leaves
among the hordes of fallen faces
I stand, an oak, sheltering all.
All around me the sky is falling
in jagged blue pieces
the sky is falling.

Tithonus

Emptiness surrounds me
to vie with the emptiness within me,
this hollowed gape was once
my hallowed cape, valley, mountain.

All nature was me and I nature
trees grass sky rain did in me dwell
now all in nature, as I am
is sleet and ice and falls and swells
to every rising...falling...pulse of mine
and slows...or does it stop?

No that for me can never be
for I live on and on to see
Man fight man; country, country.
This wish on me no wish can be
The curse within, the curse without.

Our Goldfish Bowl

We lived and loved for many years
surrounded by our solitude,
then yesterday truth burst on us
and broke our precious crystal bowl.

So now we lie on concrete floors
gasping grabbing the air for support,
waiting for the cat of fate
to end the misery, save the soul.

Bad Poetry, Real Suicide Attempt

I have failed
and in failing have failed you.
Your love, your trust, your faith
in me, are lost to me.

I have failed
and in failing have failed life
for the evening sun has paled
to show in hand my naked knife.

Cherish

When I was young and gentle dreams did weave
there came to me a spark of fire-you!-
through my impregnable sieve
of those to like, to love, adore
for ne'er a stranger stranger's face who bore.

My love for you has doubled, tripled since
it's avenues of escape you have shut out
forgave me most of my unbidden sins
left me to do my penance for the rest
and held me weeping to your tender breast.

If gods should choose to let us stay awhile
and let me ponder on their mysteries great
I'll have the time to cherish your last smile
and seeing them make this wish for certainty
I want you for my own for eternity.

Love Less Scary

To need you a little less
to want you not as much
to hold you and not feel
the blood drumming
in every pore of my skin,
all this is scary.
To love you differently
or not at all is scary.

The Other Side of Night

I shut out the night
night I had never seen.
I mourned the day end
the sunlight that had been
my only time with you.
Then I met night and knew
that I would never be
afraid of love.
the dark was mine,
a lover like you.

And Still the Night is Dark

You lie beside me
and still the night is dark.
The light of our togetherness
shining through the day
burning through the night
lies dim - cold - on my heart.
Alone, alone you lie beside me
and still the night is dark.

On Undoing the Past/The Path to Healing

The pain goes so deep...you said
...and I said
the unconscious
...as it struggles
to keep the vows we made
as unknowing babies
just to survive
until we awaken to
the Giant within
filled with joy and bliss
and love for ourselves
so that it spills over
into enough to share
with others
like I feel for you right now.
And you said...Stop...
my cheeks are wet now.

Dandelion

In the beginning I thought it only my journey
Struggling against massive odds, unmovable
by my puny arms, ready to die but not willing
to just survive anymore.

As I inched forward, crawling from knee to knee
I found others shucking off their yokes, joining me
regaining the Spring they had not seen
becoming the people they had not been.

What started as a weed that could not
survive the frost, I stand tall today
not an oak or maple but quite the reed,
the bamboo you cannot bamboozle.

My Words are Honey

From the heated cauldron of my mind 

they come pouring out like liquid 

glass, to be gently cooled into shapes

acceptable, presentable, beautiful

too delicate to change lest they shatter

From the sweltering cauldron of my mind

they are poured deliberately liquid

steel, cooled over time to become hard

sturdy, resilient, dependable

too burly to change or bend matter

From the burning cauldron of my mind 

they pour themselves in a steady stream

mercury, deceptively simple in their 

slivery, slippery, unpredictability

too capricious to capture. 

From the hivemind of my heart

my words collected from blossoms

of pain, painstakingly collected nectar.

You would be a fool to think

my honey is for your taking.

Since you came home

My life was not barren before you
there were acres of lush rolling hillsides
holding hands in deep azure water
watching red flaming sunsets for hours.

The colors are brighter
the textures are sharper
since I measure my time
between feeding and changing
and putting you to bed.

Making Family

Let us live again
surreptitiously
with children all anew,
give birth again
to seeds of our seed
again and again and again.

The humdrum of life
the feeding the washing
the staying awake nights
will fade with years.
But oh! How our years
will blossom.

Before and After You

I had you
long before I got you,
for months we shared
the little intimacies of my life.

Then you were born
I thought those times were gone.
You are walking now

and still we share those moments
as nimbly you step
through the bathroom door
before I close it behind me.

Twinkletoes and Butterfingers

The broken cake
is witness to
twinkletoes and butterfingers

The scattered toys
speak loudly of
twinkletoes and butterfingers

Splashing water
from the bath
twinkletoes and butterfingers

Hugs and kisses
are precious from
twinkletoes and butterfingers.

Fairies Angels Butterflies

Little fairies, little angels
little butterflies around us flit
stay oh so still
and watch them fly
right out of our very midst.

Babies to girls, girls to women
they'll soon be grown and gone
stay oh so still
and watch them fly
right out of our very midst.

This flower of our dreams...

This little one
who runs - who flies! -
who races the wind
will touch the sky
when we are slow
and old and gone.

But the light from our eyes
will shine in her sight
and our passion for life
will help lessen her strife
as she reaches for stars
forever.

Today I Woke...

I sleep on my side
fetal position
knees drawn tight
to my chest
taking the blows
on my back
protecting my innards

I sleep on my side
mummy in sarcophagus
arms crossed tight
across my chest
holding my shoulders
wrapped in the linen
of nightmares

I sleep on my side
head tucked in
chin drawn tight
to my chest
holding my lips
closed lest they
dare speak the pain

Today I woke
leg stretched out
arm flung upward
head thrown back
resting on the pillow
three quarter turned
smile with eyes closed
a great body shot

Today I Awoke...

Perhaps he would be nine now

nine in some cold uncaring orphanage

or nine in the luxury of some

ritzy suburb

nine years into life

cursing our anonymity

yet longing to know his past

nine now, and soon nineteen

to be parenting bastards of his own.

Would we have broken under

being parents at nineteen?

The real bastards - us.

Thoughts in vain

he didn't even live to see

the second trimester.

A mother - a writer once said to me Do what will endure because she was of love and of good humor because she was of joy and caring for un-met friends. I tried. Now I write and play with my child who knows not of dirty dishes in the sink, unmade beds, bathtub ring, of dust collecting on oak and maple, of records clothed in other jackets, but gives me of herself her toothless smile and sometimes of her oatmeal.

Untitiled

Writing and scribbling
hoarding my little words
a miser could not be greedier
with his gold.

Wild haired, wide eyed
crazy to the world
this is what keeps us safe
this is what keeps me sane.

When I Dream of My Son

I had dreams about my son

when he swam in my womb

i want to say contentedly

but no, he was full of energy

Then he was born

arriving at a later date

than he was due

but fast in his arrival

after weeks of making

his impending arrival known

my son was born

but not the one I had seen

It was many years

before he became

the son he had been

the one I had seen

He taught me chess

he was strict, I tried

he made me exercise

in Rehab, I cried

He writes short

tough love notes

"eat right, exercise

see a credentialed therapist"

you’re too young for this shit.

He let me play his drums

it made my anger at

his drumming father 

lessen just a little bit

I dream about my son

and every dream is

one less dream

of my father’s unseen hands

I dream about my son

and every dream is

one less dream
about his father

When I dream about my son

I wake up with a smile

that he exists, a man

and that I exist at all.

For Arun: January 2009

You had something
You did not recognize it
It was everything you needed
You did not care for it or nurture it
It died.
It was revived, struggling
It died many times
It was revived repeatedly
It lived on intubation and IV fluids
It is not living anymore
Merely surviving on life support

Written in 2008, Journeyed in 1989-2006

The bipolar disorder
finally diagnosed
is soused with all 3 prescriptions
succumbing to one of them
though no one can agree on
which pill - blue, pink, or white -
has done its magic.

Symptoms subside
to be followed swiftly
by anxiety disorder
treated, set aside, making way
for panic disorder
which is a bit more troublesome
but nothing the pharmas can't handle.

Thank God there's been
no obsessive compulsive disorder
or everyone has been too kind
to mention it to me.
The screaming and silences alternate
in the windowless room.
I just want to wake up.

She's catatonic.
Perhaps it's adult onset autism.
Perhaps it's early onset dementia.

Though I may not know the answers
I can finally say that I am free
and if the questions led me here
then I am who I was born to be.

From 2012

The loss of Loss

As each breath goes in and back
it's pace constant, not permanent.
so too is the pendulum
as it swings from end to end.
there is no light without the dark
up without the down, in without the out;
gain is loss, death is life
letting go of the holding on
brings blessed peace, making me strong.