POEM - Follow Me Boys

Second class was as far as he got
Careening off to other pursuits
Only to return back later
Unable to complete his own path
Takes his own four on theirs

Making up for a goal unachieved
Always there with the next step
Supports and nurtures each son
Tirelessly present he watches
Eagles take flight one by one
Reaching his dreamed of heights

POEM - I Brought You Flours

We arrived early on a Tuesday
To beat the lunch time rush
It already looked like the idea
Everyone else was having
But I got a parking spot
Right by the door
And there were still open tables
And when I added to my order
Two dozen flour tortillas
The cashier said ok
On busier days
I had been told no before
But the stars were lucky
On this midweek adventure
It wasn't a short wait
But the hot sauce was flowing
From the two big pumps
Next to the soda fountains
So I could get some flavor
While I waited in eager anticipation

I don't know how something so thin
Could hold so much
And be so delicious
The stuffing inside the burrito
Was indescribably memorable
But it was almost not necessary
That's how good the tortillas are
That's why a visitor
Returning to Phoenix
If even for just a few moments
Will make time to go to Carolina's
Make a point
To go out of their way
To visit
Like it was a long lost auntie
With way better cooking skills
Than the auntie you are stuck with
No. Really. That good.

And I was thinking of you
So I brought you
One dozen
Flour
Tortillas
As a token of my love
And my undying commitment
To always care for you
And support you
By making sure
You only have the best
And making sure you never suffer
Or have to endure
Anything less
Than the absolute best
Unadulterated and pure
Mexican food
And that I will hold you close
And keep you safe and warm
In the folds of my tortilla
Of unconditional love

POEM - Giant Apple Fritter

I couldn't wait to get out the door
Sure there had been a mistake
Who does this?
Makes giant apple fritters
The size of manhole covers​
And only charges three measly bucks!
For the sake of novelty
If nothing else
And probably not for taste
I bought one
Took up the whole box
Paid my money
Left before they realized the mistake

Once in my car
The lid I did open
Hefting the mighty pastry
I daintily nibbled
Upon the crispy sweet edge
At which point the clouds parted
Angels sang choruses of joy
And Nirvana was revealed
To persist potentially forever
Given the pure girth
Of this doughy masterpiece

Oh tasty behemoth
Laced with apple chunks
It was with trepidation
That first we did meet
But the awkward silence
It was short lived
And soon you spent a glorious moment
Lingering tastily on my lips
Only to find a forever home
Providing layers of padding
To my ever more supple hips

POEM - Vale of Tempe

I have been away
For a very long time
From a place
That feels like a home
One left behind
One place I long for
Either in imagined memory
Or actual longing
For familiar ways

But it is becoming mythology
The more years I am away
And the neighbors I knew
Are now the children
Of the children I knew
And others own the present
And I am left with
A box of memories
That only have bits and pieces
Still in the present

And when I look at the city
I see a Tempe of memory
Old buildings
Replace mondern edifice
And I see long ago
Overlaying now

Thankfully there are places
Where I once was
That are still the same
Anchors still in my heart
Walls I can sit within
That are the walls I used to know
Where the vale of the past
Is thinner
Closer
Where I can weave between
Flowing streams of time
Dip my feet in different waters
Feel my younger self
Alive in a moment
When moments
Were all I was aware of

POEM - La-la Na-na-na

In the space between meaning
Is where the people join in
With a hey-nonny-nonny
As the Bard once did say

A joy so essential
From nonsense words
Little more than simple sounds
The only difference
Someone put some letters together
And spelled out the sound
And now it is your favorite part
Of your favorite song
The part you sing so loud
The worm of a tune
That gets stuck in your ear
Can't shake it out
So you just sing along
And your friends join in
Singing na-na-na-na
Hey-hey-hey
Oooohhhhhh!!!!
Lalalalalala​

And another quote
Pops into my head
"A little nonsense
Now and then
Is relished by the wisest men"
I relish the nonsense words
That taste like ambrosia
So satisfying in my mouth
A never ending feast
That fills my soul
Um-um-um
Uh-huh!

POEM - Cuddly Kitten Day

Silent black disturbance
With a gerrymandering prowl
Bounds in joyous rapidity
Over under around and through
Then drops to his haunches
In furtive surveillance
Ears oscillating
Between pinned back sleekness
And twitching radar alertness
Launches into a graceful leap
Landing back in a crouch
On the edge of my bed
Our eyes meet in locked engagement
His body tightens
Storing reserves of potential motion
The tension mounts
In unblinking serious wide eyes
Then blurred charcoal lightning
Streaks across the textile landscape
On imminent collision course
Pulling up with miraculous agility
Into a fawning purring cuddle
At rest on my barely awake chest
Every breaking morning

POEM - Strong Sense of Direction

The old globe still had sea monsters
And steamship lanes in dotted lines
That gave the monsters a wide berth
And I would trace the lines
And picture myself at sea
Then spin to Africa
And tabulate all the names
That no longer existed
An early understanding
Of the meaning of volatility

We had flat maps too
I learned early to remember the creases
And how to fold them back just right
I was taught to find my place
On coordinates of letters and numbers
How to visualize the world
By analyzing squiggly lines
And their proximity to one another
To see clearly
From these small signs
The mountains and valleys
That lay ahead of me

And it is nice
That the son of a cartographer
Inherited a sense of direction
As if he drew in my mind
During my infancy
An internal map
The ability to visualize
The twists and turns
The ways around
The right way to get there
To avoid going the wrong way
Down a one way street
And avoiding getting stuck
In a variety of dead ends
A clear picture
Drawn with care
By skilled and learned hands

POEM - Hope They Never Dig Up the Backyard

In the wild hard-streets of suburban Arizona
When any stray animal
Sought hospice
And a comforting bed
Wherein it could gasp its last breaths
It was to our house they ran
Or fluttered or scurried
Hopped or slithered
Landing on our welcoming doorstep
Regardless of where we moved
In a morbid parade
Of myriad creatures
Heading toward the light
That apparently permanently shined
On whatever front door was ours

They didn't all die
Though that tortoise
He seemed to have a death wish
Crawling into a yard
Lousy with dogs
We saved him
And the rabbits
Well, most of them
And the chicken
Saved her and returned her
To her urban farm
But most of the other birds
Just flopped into our life
Got settled in a nice cage
Feigned a modicum of recovery
Then succumbed

That light still shines
Upon our door
I will spare you the gruesome details
Just do me a favor
Don't dig back there
Sometimes there are things
It is better you don't know

POEM - A Healthy Way

Just because I like it
Individually
Doesn't mean it works together
Collectively
I like the lime in the coconut
I like mint in my tea
I added them together
To make a drink for me
And maybe a little vinegar
And a drop of iodine
Then some green stuff
Yep, that's chlorophyll
To make it settle down right
A swish with the stirrer
And a quick sniff of the bouquet
Then bottoms up like a champion
To get my healthy on today

But wouldn't you know it
This stuff is nasty
Makes me gag a little
I hold my nose
It burns my throat
Curls my toes
A gurgle starts to form
Way down deep in my bowels
There is no way this will end well
I can already hear the howls

So I dump it down the sink
Start the process over
They say I need tomatoes
For my man health
In any way, shape, or form
And I mostly hate tomatoes
At least I hate them raw
But I like me some salsa
And tomato soup
And this bloody mary mix that's hot
So I pour a nice tall glass
And toss back a crimson shot
A little too fast
A little too furious
As the flames run down my neck
From Tabasco and horseradish
Each in healthy measure
But I choke it down
With tears in my eyes
My ounce of lycopene
Just might prevent the cancer

I keep mixing and stirring
Trying one thing and another
I get nervous with every attempt
And my stomach a little stronger
But I'm bound to make the effort
To get in a healthy way
Even if it kills me
Just a little every day

POEM - The Pineapple of Hospitality

I am the epitome of welcoming
A devotee of all that embodies
That which is inviting and comforting
All rough and stabby
On my protective exterior
But sweet and desirable
When you get to my core
A juicy fibrous surprise
Behind a painful skin

Maybe I am missing the imagery
As I observe the enduring symbol
The mascot of the hospitality industry
A pineapple holds that position
And emulation of the actual fruit
Is perhaps not why it was chosen

A revision I offer
On further consideration
I seek to be exotic and symmetrical
With dark honey colored skin
And a spikey green top
Must be the look
That seems most comforting
When considering where to vacation

But I think it is more mundane
And the tropical pineapple
Was just a flamboyant figurehead
Conjuring images of the far away
I guess that is what it really means

But a simple answer
Isn't always as fun
And the horry tropical native
Begs for other imaginings
For the more creative answer
Inspired by a mysterious symbol
Of remembered sweeter fruit
And treasured simple pleasures

POEM – Red Pants

 Rummaging through so-last-year
Hanging unceremoniously
Slashed and tagged
For immediate clearance
A colorful cramped array
That rewarded patience and persistence
When like a shining beacon
I found them
And when one finds red pants
In one’s size
One does not pass them up
So my new friend came home with me
Fancy designer label red slacks
Purchased for less than a song
And I, slightly light headed
From deal laden euphoria

When I finally debuted
The magnificent slacks
I had an audience
Appropriately
At a sponsor dinner
During a trade conference
A normally stuffy affair
Made whimsical
With one small addition
And it was noticed
“Like the red pants
Not everyone can wear those
But you are making it work!”
Yes!
Point for the weirdos
Thank you red pants
For doing your job
For making a statement
For getting an old dude
A compliment
From the young crowd
And for making my coworker
Roll his eyes
Way more than usual

POEM - Strange Bedfellows

Aqueous turquoise sea
Clings to wild wetlands
Saving its transparent beauty
As a saline abutment
Virtually void of human invasion
Just coexisting biospheres
Different in function
But mirrored in purpose
Both of them contributing
Vital processes
To the nature industrial complex
Each meeting their quotas
Year after year
Making allowable variances
In production goals
To compensate
For historically fickle
Weather pattern
And each does their thing
Tirelessly
Beautifully
The clear blue Gulf sea
The vibrant green Everglades
Vast and foreboding
In their respective spheres
But they are good neighbors
And chat each day
About the flavor of the wind
And the sound the sun makes
When it flies to close
On those balmy summer days
When lazy is as lazy does
And the swamp just wishes
It could scratch that spot
Where the gators meet
For a thrash and a wallow

POEM - South Beach

Colorful
The one word
Best suited
Without reservation
It was just everything
The people
The music
The noise
The crowds
The buildings
All of it
A full court assault

I asked my passenger
If he liked the architecture
I'm just along for the ride
Was the reply
What would you do
If I didn't drag you out here?
I like just taking a stroll
So this is ok then, I inquired
Yes, just fine

But there is something more
He might be missing
In heavy strong lines
And whimsical accents
A power colorfully preserved
Still drawing in people
Still a destination
Still keeping alive
And making cool
An Art Deco world
Blanched and burning
On the sassy Florida shore

POEM – Did I Cross That Bridge?

When I came to it

Did I ever get across

Somewhere

In the flood

Of raw emotional detritus

I made plans

To deal with issues

At the time

When they crossed my path

But did I cross over

Or wade through

The murk and mire

A bridge

Must be built

Requires effort

Ahead of arrival

So did I plan

And build the structure

That would keep me safe

Let me walk on over

Able to see the issue

But not have to swim

No fear of drowning

But I think I swim a lot

And I hope the bridge is built

But I wear a bathing suit

Under my clothes

And take my shoes off

When I see the problems

Coming up ahead

Because procrastinators

They gonna get wet

Soaked in the trial

Drowning in the issues

Looking at someone else's bridge

When the flood waters rise

And sweep them down stream

So I am collecting stones

Sending them ahead

Contracting with the trolls

To make me a pathway over

Instead of trudging through

And I may have riddles to answer

But in the end

I will walk freely

Keep my shoes on

Lose my calluses

Abandoned the swimsuit

And stay safe

Amidst the rising trials

Rushing by

Full of the flotsam and jetsam

I used to get dragged down by

POEM - A Hammock in a Busy World

Off the roundabout
Circled round about
By the skyscraper jungle
A wrought iron gate lays open
Set into a primeval limestone boulder wall
A fortification against encroachment
Monument to the land
A brief pause steeped in flora
This is what was discarded
In taming the swamps and marshes
A moment of reverence
But not of quiet
As the blanched white trail
Made from tiny sun bleached seashells
Crunches in a soothing way
Under each ponderous step
The flickering light through the canopy
Is at once exciting and soothing
And it is a small pause only
The train is just over the fortifications
Traffic honks and the lunch crowd caucophony
Flicker through the trees like the light
And the patchwork of scents
Float across my olfactory
Is that a rotting persimmon
Or is it a paw-paw
Mixed with something faintly eucalyptus
A medicinal fermentation
Not altogether unpleasant
But unexpected in its pungent symphony
And I am calmed
And I understand the name
Assigned this feature
The sign says it is a hammock
And the gentle sway of the breeze
The settling drowsy nature
And the meandering circuitous path
All agree
Gentle calm centering spot
I came expecting concrete and asphalt
I found a resting place
Clinging loosely
On limestone waves

POEM - Keep the Bureaucracy and Your Two Cents

The check I got in the mail
Hardly seemed worth my time
In process of paying some sort of tax
To some sort of government
I overpaid
By a smidgen
And while I appreciate the principles
Of honesty and fairness
It is going to cost me more
To deposit the check
Than it is worth

My parents had a worse story
They had moved out
Shut off utilities
And left town
They got a bill
For 2 cents
And they almost never paid it
Because they couldn't decide
How to best do so
Do you tape two pennies
To the front of the bill
Write a check
Or make out a money order
Perhaps go by the office
And pick up two pennies
Out of the gutter
And toss them at the front door
Maybe stop at the 7-Eleven
And take two pennies
From the leftover dish
And glue them to the cashier counter
When no one is looking
They almost missed paying it
Cause they almost couldn't stop
Shaking their heads in dismay
At the bureaucratic process
That could've used some change

POEM - Little Scars

Up close
The skin is topographical
With normal variations
From open plains
To varying densities
Of variegated grasslands
Atop glorious varieties
Of differing shades
On the surface layer

It is the unexpected
That holds a deeper story
The flaws in an unbroken plane
Divots or ridges
That blend in at first
Until they are finally seen
And then can't be unseen

Take this ridge I now own
Just above my wedding ring
From when I was just a little careless
Made just a small slip
With very sharp scissors
That bit unforgivingly
A tiny mouthful of flesh
Before work one Sunday evening
Many years ago
And the pain left long ago too
But there is still the ridge
A soft little smearing
Of the shaft of my finger
A cautionary feature
Left in plain site

And there are others
Scattered across my body
Some with stories complete
Others of mysterious origin
Each unique to me

Like the quarter size circle
Just below my left knee
My old four-square injury
From back in sixth grade
That I earned one recess
As I chased the game ball
Then lost my footing
On the gravel over the asphalt
The tiny pebbles lodging
Deep in the skin
So deep our nurse friend
Had to use a waterpick
To clean them out
As I grimaced in anguish
I have grown since then
And the scar has moved
From its perch on my kneecap
Further down my leg
Always fascinating me
The crater-like remnant
Of a momentary action
Persisting through the years

These are the merit badges
That we give ourselves
Tokens of pain endured
Challenges faced
Struggles overcome
A notice to all
That here marks the spot
Of another time
Where I didn't give up

POEM - Gastro-Touring

Have you been to Phoenix?
Beautiful place
There is this joint
Carolina's
You have to go there
Their tortillas are the best
And then if you want dessert
Man! Bahama Buck's is so great
Shaved ice and ice cream
Hits the spot

Hey, I'm going to Chicago
See the sights
Then you have hit Do-Rite
Best donuts ever
You won't believe how good
Oh, and you better make sure
To get a Chicago Dog
But only from this guy
With the steamed buns
And the best toppings
A total must

Going to Connecticut
It's pizza with clams
Over at Pepe Pizza on Wooster
Landing in Philly
Pretzels and cheese steaks
Texas is barbeque
New York is bagels
Muffaletta in New Orleans
Lobster in Boston
Chili in Ohio
Cheese is Wisconsin
Even got the half-smoke
At Ben's in DC

And I suppose there exists
Other things to see
But it is never my first thought
To adapt to a place
I need to taste it
Helps me see the world
Like the locals do
Walk a mile in their taste buds
Seems to get me there faster
Helps me relate
And if you ask me to tell you
About the places I go
It is the food you will meet first
That is where the spirit is
Where the real flavor lives
The inviting song
That is music to my palette

POEM - Mostly Moist

There were problems I didn't have
Once upon a time
That now are constant companions

I'm talking about moistness
The plurality of the unsavory
A notion of unpleasant nomenclature

Once a temporary inconvenience
In the arid desert climate
Of my former homeland
Where the breezes blew hot
And lapped up all liquid
And if you had no sweat
It sucked your skin dry
Until it left it cracked and burned
Wanting for a spot of dew
To vanquish the kiln like effect

But now all is changed

Moist
Moist moist moist
That is the constant condition
The modus operandi
Of the Deep South weather
A sweltering humid jacket
That hardly ever comes off

But we are creatures of water
And this is what our flesh craves
And despite the hated word
We desire to be moist
And the desert is the violent part
Of a codependent relationship
It beats you apart
Shriveling almost to dust
But gives you pretty things
Like sunsets and cactus blooms
And you just can't quit it

Even if it kills you
Even if your whole soul
Desires a sweet moist release

The cracked dry earth
Always calls your name
Once it has planted in you
The hardened stubborn seed
That germinates in your heart
Sending its roots deep
Seeking the river
That keeps you afloat
It digs its taproot
Syphons off just a little
To stay connected
Keep you just thirsty enough
To always want to return
To surrender the basic needs
To replinish our watery essence
And crave to burn
Like the Sonoran desert
Awash in the fiery sunset

POEM - Passage to India

Vivid green thoughts
Crowded into the passing scenery
A quiet moment as passenger
Staring at the bucolic scenery
Of the rural Carolinas
My companion breaks the reverie
To discuss what brought me here
A combination of work and fate
Comes my answer
He asks if it was a good move
Certainly it was
It has changed my life
And ruminations ensue
About why and how much
That statement came true
And again green thoughts take over

Green like the palm fronds
Shading the coconut clusters
As I walk down to the beach
And peer out at the Arabian Sea
I drop my toes in the ocean
And I feel they are telling me
They have just come from Africa
And send their regards
And I feel a little more in touch
With a wilder and more primitive world

In the streets the jungle still tries
Pushing in wherever it can
A sprout of a vine
Through a crack or break
In concrete or asphalt
And each vendor promoting
The strong construction
Of each hand crafted article
Made of mango wood
Very strong
And a tap tap on the street
Shows its power
As I stand in the shade
Of one of its siblings
It is weighed down
With deepest green oblong fruit
Begging to be plucked
Tauntingly far away
In the towering fruit tree

When I cross the bay
In the open air ferry
The other shore possess history
Carries the scent of a thousand years
Of merchants pursuing the spice trade
I can imagine Marco Polo
Giving up the land route
Settling into this paradise
And making his fortunes
In cardamom and pepper
Mace and nutmeg and star anise
To shake his hand
You would be awash
In his sweaty musk
Tinged with pungent exotic spices
That made you crave his companionship
I would be happy in that life
Like that Peacemaker's song
About the smuggler's trade
It is a lot of easy money
The hard way

Back in the car
I confirm again I am happy
This has been a good move
My circle of friends
Now circles the globe
And my love for the world
Has grown the same
And is evergreen
As the coconut palms
And mango trees
Shading the spice trade
Blown gently
On pepper scented breezes

POEM - The Winding Down for the Wind Up

Sunday night
I breathe
Deeply
Exhale
Completely
Pause a moment
Reflection
Order my mind
Align my spirit
Another week ends
Another begins
And it is time
To let it go
Release the past
And turn full forward
But just one more pause
One more breathe
And another moment stolen
Before I leave you
Home and hearth
And gather clutter
Clouds and conflict
Waiting to dissolve
In Sunday exhales
That cleanse
My world worn soul

POEM - Anachronisms

It was probably the fourth
But at least the third
Declaration of thought
On the same road
In the same park
And nearly verbatim
In each iteration
In a cadence
Mere seconds apart

I tried to be subtle
In my desire for quiet
Make a small suggestion
Hope for a contextual perception
To penetrate the subconscious
Of the perpetual preteen
Occupying the back seat
I asked
Calmly
If he knew
How a broken record sounds

In a smartaleck way
He fired back
In an obnoxious tone
Some weird robot sound
No, I answered
Not it
A broken record
Repeats the exact same thing
Over
And over
And over
Until it gets fixed

But that might have been a poor example
For someone just born
After vinyl was declared dead
Who never spent hours
Glued in one general vacinity
Intently listening
To the non-portable music machine
With delicately balanced needle
Warmly sending out the tunes
Unless it gets a hiccup
Starts to skip
Jumping back in time
Playing that same phrase
And even if it matches
These old sayings
May be losing their strength
On this younger crowd

But I still use them
Keeping it alive
I'd rather explain
Ad nauseum
Than lose the idea
And he can adapt
The little twirp
Cause he is a broken record sometimes
And it does explain it perfectly
And he can learn
My anachronistic ways

POEM - The Sickest

My youngest daughter
The scrawny little chicken
Is pathetic
She was feeling bad
Then got feeling worse
And worse still
Until the fountains of the earth
Burst forth like Noah's flood
And mucus laden moisture
Runeth over her cup
Spilling from every imaginable orriface
And tumbling down
In a ragging deluge
Fit to drown
My poor sickly bird

We took pity on her
Pumped her full of meds
To hit all the symptoms
Bring down the fever
Then dry up the flood
Settle the nausea
And then knock her out cold
And then reassure her
All will be well
And sick isn't forever
And she would not, in fact, die
It just feels like death warmed over
It just seems like you've never felt good
And I know
I've been there
When I couldn't remember
What it felt like
To not be sick
And all the world
Is on the other side
Of a wide murky chasm
But it is not the end
And it will be OK
Little bird
It will be OK

POEM - Hip-Hop Soul in a Business Suit

I've always been a poet
And when I finally heard it
What I wanted to be
Was a rapper
Like the old school masters
Rhyming and stealing
Popping and locking
Scratching
Spitting
Catching the breaks
So smooth
Carrying the rhymes
Like joyous little twists
In a language that moves
Makes you smile
And dance
Riding as it does
On fat beats
A funky bass line
And a loop
A hook
That reels you in

I was caught at first
By the gateway drug
For a kid from the burbs of Tucson
When the Beastie Boys made it alright
It was like permission granted
I was suddenly allowed
To shout along
Yelling "No! Sleep! Till Brooklyn!"
Feeling a part of something new
Awash in Street
Throwing down cardboard
Trying to breakdance
Looking foolish
But loving every minute

And it still happens
And I'm sure my fellow commuters
Find it off-putting
That the chubby old man
In the conservative Volvo
Is throwing gang signs
While his stereo is booming
A heavy thump thump
Drop the beat
Move your rump
Popping tags
Listening to "Thrift Shop"
Blissfully indifferent
To the crazy scene
I'm making
Rolling with my homies
Insane in my middle aged membrane

POEM - The Poetry of Sleep

It is humming
Somewhere around my ears
A song like the rhythmic moans
Of ragged Tuvan throat singers
Three dissonant voices
In cacophonous harmony
Carry my mind to wandering
Seemingly on alternate planes
In different paths
Leisurely chasing
Every passing thought
Ethereal deception
I think I can push
Force it out and away
But it is heavy
Unyielding
Like chopping water
Or catching the wind in your fist
Slipping and twisting
Laying in
And you fall
Deeply
To a rich velvety
Comatose
Void