POEM - Pizza and Serendipity

We had been up since 2 AM
From the passenger seat I filmed the sun
Zoomed in and distorted
Bouncing along the horizon
Deepening orange ball
Floating through ombré purple sky
Nightfall eminent but not the journey
The reason for stopping was supplies
Something only the mega-mart could provide
The sign being the reason for exiting the freeway
In the dusky grime
Of the seedy side of Oklahoma City
A quick stop then back on the road to find dinner
Dinner found us
Gleaming new sign lighting the way
To an old and beloved favorite
The Peter Piper Pizza beckoned
And we heeded the Piper’s call
There was never a question we would
Quickly we retrieved supplies
Beneath thick swirling clouds
Of ominous migratory flocks
Perched like skid row thugs
A fowl collection
Of murders, tidings, and quarrels
Depending on taxonomy
Amid the disquieting stares we departed
Soon warmed by comforting familiarity
Order placed
Table procured
Enveloped in peaceful nostalgia
We ordered two pizzas
They messed up one
Gave it to us and corrected the order
What is more perfect than finding an old friend?
When that old friend gives you extra free pizza
We could have just stopped there
Never driven further
Been at peace with the decisions that lead us there
But duty and time beat the beckoning drum
And with full bellies
And still two full pizzas
We left overly satisfied and encouraged
Searching for Amarillo
Riding off into the fallen night

POEM - Chicago to LA and Donuts All the Way

The mother road begins
At the corner of Michigan and Adams
The front steps of the Art institute
A breeze coming off the lake
Carrying sounds of commotion
As traffic and pedestrians
And a massive city of busy
All clamour about
It just starts
No fanfare
And heads west yearning
A deep exhausting yearning
A building hunger within
A longing for deep enrichment
An empty hole
A hole only filled
By doughy deep fried greasy sweet delight
For here in the grand temple of architecture
The pilgrimage is fueled by donuts
In myriad variety
Each more memorable than the last
An aroma surely laden with pure ambrosia
Leaves the city awash
In a comforting blanket of caloric perfection
Just the perfect circle of joy
To carry a weary traveller on
Leaving the security
Of the ominous metropolis
And another bite
Can offer solace
In the desolation of the great plains
Or screw your courage to the sticking spot
Through twisting desert mountains
And even calm the nerves
When engulfed
By the endless expanse of LA
It is donuts that will see you through
One delicious dozen at a time

POEM - Snake Boats on Turtle World

If I had been a little more awake
I might have seen the obvious direction
Known where the river of conversation
Was eventually leading me
Gently flowing with an easy calm
Lulling me into a false sense of security
I knew enough to know something was up
I knew enough to know I didn’t care what was up
I was up for it all
But I had become familiar with the approach
A slow reveal when the outcome is uncertain
When the audience might not be completely familiar
And I knew sometimes you row the boat
And sometimes the boat rows you
And sometimes you end up half naked
Barefoot
In a river in India
Rowing a snake boat
With a hundred other half naked barefoot men
Heading to the temple
In anticipation of a feast
In support of the celebration
And in those moments my smile can’t be stopped
My joy knows no ends
My gratitude for the generosity
Of complete strangers
Is endless as the backwater river
I jump into waist deep
Before climbing the steps
Ascending to holy ground
Waiting to be beckoned forth
Join the throng
Chant along in a beautiful rhythm
Adorn my forehead with sandalwood
A sign of respect for the turtle
Who carries us all as one on his back

POEM - 31 Flavors

I have my weaknesses
Laid bare at the door
Of any ice cream parlor
Exposing my passionate desire
To revel in varied sweet depths
Of milky chilled delights
A smorgasbord of verigated pleasures
Calling like a concert of Sirens
Sweetly singing
Delectable Arias
And I envision a surrender
As I succumb
To it's intoxicating bouquet
Wandering aimless
Amidst a Pantheon of flavors
Indecisive
Light headed
A quiver with anticipation
Each decision more attractive
Every option good
How, my dear, is it done?
Faced with such temptations
You are resolute
Unfettered
A devout disciple
Unbreakable
The binding tether
Lashing me to the mast
A trusty anchor
For my windblown potentials
But you are not vanilla
Nor plain chocolate or strawberry
Not even Neapolitan
Like some collective of normality
No, you are deeper waters
Holding the secrets of the sea
And this Ulysses remains
And only hears the beckoning songs
As background tunes
While I step to counter and order
The usual
I know what you like
You are cheesecake ice cream
With a scoop of roasted almonds
And a liberal sprinkling
Of English toffee crumbles
In a large waffle cone
And this is right
Every time
Dashing the Siren's songs
With each magnificent lick
Of a perfectly balanced confection

POEM - How to Carry a Mountain

Maybe the softer approach
Will be the thing this time
That moves the mountain
The rocky pile of stones
You seem intent on carrying
And I want to lend a hand
I have strength to lift your loads
But a show of strength
Throws off your balance
Makes you lose your grip
Threaten to have the load come down
In a thunderous avalanche
So I will be the whisper
Of the cooling breeze
Caressing your anguished face
A slight refreshing chill
One good thing
Enough
Just enough
To take another step forward

POEM - Make Mine Melon

You exercised due diligence
After the disappointment
Because it looked pretty
The nicely dual tone green
Across the unblemished skin
But inside a red herring
Meaning misleading
Meaning the lovely blushing flesh
Was slimy like a fish
And smelly like a fish
And more like a fish
Than a watermelon
And the disappointment was palpable
Both of us
Wanting the cool juicy red delight
And getting compost fodder
So you researched
And there were lessons
Myriad cliche
Like pretty skin is just that
It says nothing of the inside
And wounds are a mark
Of well rounded experience
And daring for succulence
Catches more flies
Than timid careful waiting
So we looked for the spot
Large and yellow
Where it rested in the soil
Got all the nutrients
And the rough scarring
Where the bees or wasps land
And pierce the skin
Sniffing out the best melon
Marking it for later
And then a tap with the thumb
To hear the deep bass thrum
A complete picture
Of an interesting experience
A little rough around the edges
Some wounds and scars
But a deep soul
And a sweet demeanor
A revelation
Chilled and delicious
As it emerged from the ice box
A mighty good melon
With a story to tell

POEM - Our Love Has The Merritt

For months I have pined
Captivated
Despite the deadly chasm
Thwarting us ever meeting
I yearn deeply to close the gap
Bridge the divide
Design a uniting arch
There is architecture in my heart
But I am bound
To this plaza of convenience
That does no service for me
Only leaves me empty
Deflated and out of fuel
As each day we part
I to the North
You southbound
But I know not how far
And I fear I never will
And it is a scenic parkway
Riding home on Route 15
But the scenery seems washed out
Bland and colorless
Without you around

Oh my service plaza lady
So fetching in your blue polo
The one that matches mine
Going through the same motions
Somehow so elegant and comely
Hoisting laden trash bags
Or spraying down the walk
In quiet desperation I wait
Hoping you have noticed me
A victim of geography
The Merritt is an unforgiving divide
A few short feet between
Yet a world apart
Will I chance a dash when traffic lulls
Abandon my post
Risk reprimand
Brave becoming a freeway casualty
No guarantee of success
I think it would be worth it
Just to hear your voice
To tell you how I feel
Overcome my station
Change the direction
Of the road I'm stuck upon

POEM - Falling Into Thoughts

The attraction was the waterfall
That's where the arrows pointed
The reason for me to make the journey
The signage staggered along the path
A welcome bit of learning
This path was also used for education
A good variety of local flora
Labeled in detail
With interesting bias for flavor
Some frustrated or future ad exec
Offering tantalizing teasers
Fun facts and tidbits
Almost conspiratorial
"Did you hear about the mock strawberry?
     It has an ugly brown fruit.
         Thus the "mock" appellation, don't ya know . . . "
"Or this annoying little gem
   It has nasty thorns
      It will tear up your jeans
           And your skin!!
               We should all collectively avoid and shun it . . ."
Amused and informed so I persisted
Found the birch tree with propaganda in place
Make birch beer from the sap
Use to be the flavoring source of wintergreen
Now replaced by something artificial
Couldn't figure if that was good or bad
Tried to smell it in the small branches
Like it suggested
Guess this wasn't one of the good ones
The extended brown plank walkway
Across the marshy interlude
Caused me to pause
Capture the moment in pictures
Sure there was some metaphor
In the encroaching greenery
And the peaceful lighting
Of the contrasting straight way
Where once was impassible marshy uncertainty
Images captured and journey resumed
I heard the gurgling falls drawing closer
The helpful informational interludes had ceased
As if this was beyond snarky explanations
There was something too serene
Too generous about the water
Endlessly cascading
Calming noises and cool water
It settled my heavy breathing
The previous incline forgotten
I extended both hands
Placed them flat against the rocks
Water flowed
And something not insignificant
Pleased my deeper soul
I let the moment happen
Let the healing occur
Walked back lighter
Detoured away from the nature trail signs
Staying in the moment
Thoughts falling
Emotions in pools
Mottled sun dancing in gentle breeze
Warming the docile black snake
Must be deep in thought
Not a flicker of recognition
As I step past
Following my own path

POEM - Camp Cacophony

Lights out but nothing changes
Little conversations hum
The pleasant rhythm
Of conversations
In other rooms
Punctuated intermittently
By exploding declarations
Of disbelief
Or cheering support
Perhaps a belly busting guffaw
And what moments are left
When perhaps silence may
In some way return
The forest fills the space
Creaking frog thrums
Rustling leaf trembles
Chirping nervous cricket song
A hoot and a holler
Smother the silence of nature
Dispell any myth
Of the serenity that exists
Outside the realms
Of what is called civilization
But then the games resume
Capture the Flag
Or some other ritual
An initiation
Participated in for ages
And the noise of free range boys
Is a marvel unrivaled
And the ceaseless endurance
Making a ruckus
Deep into the sanctuary of night
Puts perpetual motion to shame
Causes reason to give up the ghost

POEM - Lead Dog Truths

Last night rain
Left morning clean and clear
A slight chill enough
To soften yesterday's heat
Almost forget the swelter
Hopeful promise for relief
Just enough encouragement
To get me on a morning hike

The old bridge suggested history
An odd stone battlement
Piled on a peaked Gothic arch
Straddling a boulder laden stream
Like a misplaced cathedral window
Living water flowing through
The rest of the forest silent
Deep in reverent observations

I spent my moment of silence
But soon was drawn on
By the path beyond
Promise of something more
Maybe other misplaced monuments
Were waiting to be found
What I found was a mountain
Going ever up
And I the first intruder
At least on this new day
The lead dog
Whose scenery will always change
First along the path
Blazing the way
Until . . . thwat!

What they don't tell in the saying
About being the lead dog
The down side
The drawback
Though your scenery does change
You also get the pleasure
Of eating all the spider webs
Hung with dew
Strewn across the path
By ambitious arachnid
Hoping for small insects
Bombarded this morning
By hulking behemoth
Their long night of work
Obliterated across my face
Engulfing my arms by degrees
Until I am unsure
If it is the incline
Or the webbing
Inhibiting my ascent
Purloining my homecoming
Teaching me an important truth
Second place is ok too

POEM - Three Legged Dog

An array of porcelain appendages
Scattered on the bathroom floor
Below the window ledge
Where once they were perched
Formerly attached
To the miniature beagle figurine
Caused more thoughts than usual
More than its diminutive size
Would seem to warrant
The little glass dog was not perfect
Somewhere it had lost a leg
A damaged imperfect proxy
Representing your real friend
The one who grew old
Until he was just too miserable
And you had to make that terrible choice
That many have made
Just as miserable
Just as awful
Now at rest
Below the dogwood tree
I thought of this
And then I thought
I guess you can it seems
Knock over a three legged dog
But I will collect the pieces
Glue them together
Place him back on the ledge
Lecture the cats
Tell then to leave him be

POEM - Skate, Graduate, Skate

JoJo Bean the roller derby fiend
Spinning round and round the roller rink
Rolling away all her worries
In only a few hours
In only a few minutes
In only a second
All of it was over
A stroll across the stage
One last task to complete
And it was a done deal
No more classes
No more school
No more teachers and their rules
Only the summer ahead
Set off by a party
A collection of acquaintances
A menagerie of associates
Some Kuiper belt-esque bodies
Orbiting loosely
Around her gravitational pull
She is the current center
Of a temporary universe
Kept in motion
By the power of commemoration
The collective commencement
That brings semi-strangers
To a lonely skating rink
In a quiet sleepy town
Joyously willing
To pay tribute
To the queen of the moment
Skate on young scholar
These are the salad days
Don't worry for tomorrow
Consider not the rarity
Just skate on sweet child
To the rhythm devine
Chasing the glowing glitter
Of the illuminated disco ball

POEM - Life in the Land of Trucks

I live in a land of trucks
Of twisting roads 
Of country lanes
Of furrowed brows
And slow languid aimless conversations
Where the weather is the weather
Whether or not there is any
Weather is discussed and discussed
As well as the condition
Of Aunt Mable's cow
Of how the chickens are laying
And how the local football team
Fared on this day
Or on that day
Or on this one day
20 years ago
In good old glory days gone past
When a truck was needed
For farming and dirt roads
And working the land
With the grit in your soul
And the callused hands
Gripping a big worn wheel
Before the asphalt came
Made the trucks soft
And the men softer
But now it is a land of trucks
Filled with bodies
Wearing cowboy clothes
Like their parents did
When they were just called clothes
And each of these things
Were just what they were
To do what they had to do
Not waiting for Saturday night
Not living in anyone's past

POEM - Dinner for Weirdos

Forget the decorum
When we meet at table
To break bread and commune
Walls will melt
Under warming familiarity
Until we are all friends
Even if for just a moment
For just a meal
But we have met
And found common ground
Until stories and experience
Lead to smiles and laughter
And the only problem for the trio of weirdos
Is to not push it too far
Because these dudes are quirky
Kooky outliers from expected norms
Enjoying their own peculiarities
Without alienating the other side of the table
But they are experienced in this dance
Each bouncing off the other
A tornado of anecdotes
Keep the conversation humming
And that is the game
To combat the banality
Intrinsically inherent in a business dinner
Because the lead kook has lived
An enviable existence
And is magnanimous in his exposition
Humbly inviting all for the ride
Because he loves the journey
Makes you love it too
And his minions egg him on
Push for the next allegory
Cheer the master story teller
Provide color commentary
Until the tour de force
Wears out the other guests
Overwhelms in a satisfactory way
Leaving an indelible impression
Of weirdos and kooks and loonies
And a dinner not soon forgot

POEM - The Car May Not Make the Man, But it Does Influence His Driving Habits

Somewhere between
Seeing the rail crossing
And gauging the mechanical health
Of this motor vehicle I ride in
My right foot moves left
Or stays in place and presses down
Depending on the amount of air
I desire beneath my wheels
Depending on the car I am in
Depending on the passengers I have
Depending on the cargo I carry
Depending on the size of the explanation
I will need to come up with
To account for the potential damage
Or the decibel of the screams
I am willing to endure
Or the chiropractic investment
I am willing to make
A million variables
In between instances

And I already know ahead of time
For some of my normal whips
What my conscience will allow
In the mini-van it is simple
Regardless of everything
I solemnly swear
I will get no air
No matter what
No matter where
But in the Volvo
With the heavy-duty suspension
And me as the only occupant
I may push the limits
See what it can handle
Drift on the dirt road
Hit the bump a little hard

But in the company Jeep
With the big off-road tires
And the incredible ground clearance
Stiff suspension
Great handling
Practically begging to fly
To jump and run and take the bumps
At a high rate of speed
Aggressive and daring
I suddenly assume a daredevil role
That I wasn't fully prepared for
With such ferocity and intensity
A hibernating beast awakened
Simply by getting in the seat
Sitting at the wheel
Driving down the road
A few miles and I am alive
Influenced by the machine
Awakened by the feel of the road
Exhilarated
Machine overwrites reason
Sensability surrendered
To the power measured in horses

POEM - Interstate-ment

In the middle of a metaphor

On my way to an analogy

Delayed by a conundrum

I ponder

Eyeing glowing red points

Signifying intentions

Disturbances

Warnings and frustrations

I heed

But only peripherally

Embroiled in asphalt diversion

Consider the freeway

Neither does it reap nor sow

Yet is anything so full

Of anticipated potential?

Adorned in advertisement

And detritus

An arterial conveyance

Flowing with automated atoms

Not fully aware are they

Of the larger scheme

The dynamic network

The much bigger picture

A grand moving ballet

Finding temporary stoppage

When fellow cogs 

Interested only in minutiae

Lose a broader vision

Don't understand the dance

Thus the metaphor

Something about life and little things

Where to look

What to notice

Which road to travel

And why any of it matters​

And the twisting interconnected menagerie

Like the journey of our lives

Keeps flowing on and on

POEM - Falling With Style

Walk one early morning
On purpose
Against a slight chilled breeze
Pushing through the tree lined path
Hemming the edge of the ancient canal
The playful winds
Fluttering the slow moving water
Making nervous rippling regiments
Swirling across the murky surface
Like flocks of migrating finches
In ever evolving patterns
Another breeze rushing past
Shivering the dense trees
Releasing leaves here and there
A shinning distraction
Capturing my imagination
Dulling the intermittent piercing cold
The long spear-head leaves
Spin in quick lilting rotation
Floating silently in a gentle ballet
Flashing each side
Light to dark quickly entrancing

The next rush releases another resident
Of an altogether different nature
From some almighty oak
A massive leaf
Broad and substantial
Tumbles through the thin air
Like a fat man taking a tumble
As if gravity just got too tired
Supporting his impressive and generous girth
I watch the ungraceful descent
Fully expecting the ground to tremble
With the forceful impact
As this succulent giant
Drops clumsily and quickly
Forsaking the graceful dance
Of it's more aerodynamic neighbors
In favor of a chaotic journey
I've met these types before
More concerned with the obligatory destination
Then the joyful journey
Ironic I should think this
As a grudgingly return to my trek
But I have paused
Noticed the flowers
Seen the fall of a leaf
And noticed
Spun the thoughts in my mind
Letting them mix and twirl
And land softly to take root
Memory of the sweet lesson
Quelling the bitter task

POEM - The First Taste is Free

On the edge of LA
Summer trip of 88
Packed tight into less cars than we came in
Road trip to downtown
An welcomed excursion
A different type of E ticket ride
A little more unsafe
A lot more unknown
The characters around each corner
Were not paid to act that way
And the guy with his coat lined with watches
Was not a corporate approved vendor
On the way in Matt and Uncle Kim and I chatted
Matt and I wanting to be cooler
Talk more grown-up
Be no more the kid cousins
Uncle Kim pointed out the carpool lane
High walls we were sinking between
"Always reminds me of Star Wars
     Riding down this concrete valley . . ."
Kim always had a way
Of making the fun even funner
We parked a city block away
Got to walk through the glass and concrete canyons
On the way to a remnant
Of the old California days
Plastered garishly to the high-rise facade
The unmistakable entrance to Clifton's
A wonder expertly decorated
In the Early Attention Deficit Disorder style
After lunch and back out on the street
Retracing the path
Though not too quickly
Past huddled newsstands
With low roofs
Packed with kindling
It is a wonder there were not more fires
As every language  imaginable
Floated past in black ink on newsprint
It was then the addiction started
A thirst for this busy city life
That I was allowed to soak and revel in
A taste I've never lost
A hunger never quelled

POEM - Raining Cats & Dogs & Babies

The weather held out
Just long enough
To be completely inconvenient
Not that either of us was surprised
Given the formula
One short evening
Four different appointments
Six different destinations
And A plus B plus C
Somehow means we needed a deluge
Just to make sure someone missed out

There was really only one answer
It was to the hospital
Visiting the new arrival
Drenched to the core
For the entire journey
Made it take 3 times longer
Made it a little more stressful
Made it all the sweeter
When brother met little sister
For the first time
Finally focused in
And yesterday's trio
Huddled into their foursome
As if it had always been that way

By the time we left the storm had too
The weather had done its job
Storms bring babies
Nurses always told us
It brought a good one this time
As clear skies welcomed the sunset
And dim amber rays
Blanketed refreshed avenues
And of course there was a rainbow
As if the sky was trying
To let those new mommas know
Sorry for the noise
Just doing my job
Had to clean up this grungy place
To welcome those fresh new babies
Don't you know

POEM - We All Get Paid

No matter how happy I am
To see you each day
In the halls of this pillar of capitalism
Or how wide my Cheshire grin
With gleaming exposed white teeth
Accents my overall work demeanor
The hidden and protected truth
The one I don't let out
Is, honestly
I am paid to be here
Otherwise I would never come back

Years I spent visiting my grandparents
Exploring the exciting home office
Of my accountant grandfather
An office that was unexpectedly interesting
With stacks of National Geographic
Making little colorful towers
Of well explored pages
Intermingled with mysterious business machines
Resplendent with ink soaked ribbons
In darkest black and most vivid red
Which we were free to experiment with
This one making only numbers
The other letters as well
This one making noise and little else
All of it providing simple entertainment
For years and years
And permanently fixed on the wall
An early inspirational quote
Something about this guy
From who knows what planet
Never worked a day in his life
It was all fun

And I try to be that guy
And enjoy each day
Find joy in what I am doing
Have fun
But most days it is still work
So I have to rewrite the quote
Just a little:
     "I never worked a whole day in my life
      It was 60 percent fun most days
      With some beautiful days
      Where I was at work
      And it didn't feel like work
      And everything went right
      And then it was all fun
      On those rare special only-all-fun days."

It doesn't roll off the tongue
But it is my reality
One I am happy with
One that makes me get into the car each weekday
And drive here
And smile
And, yes, even have fun