Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Here Comes the King

My little prince, my brother
swimming in a football story
of battle and athletic glory
back from sports practice with our mother
Blue eyes roam a crackered page
then ascend to meet my stare
pulling oxygen out of the air
doorways to a nearing age
My surprised heart is turned to mince
My mind jumps and my soul sees
those blue castles staring at me
Where is my little prince?
He has slipped off into nothing
And those traveling blue eyes see
through season and through century
From those eyes stares a striking king
I read those blue eyes like a book
and distant drums throb in my chest
and beat, beat, beat for a coming quest
A future unfolds as I look
I see a long, respected reign
a time of conquest and success
but also prideful recklessness
and cold defeat and loss and pain
Violent battles and crippling war
Atlas's great shoulders ache
A kingly heart threatens to break
asking what he’s fighting for
But in the ash a phoenix stirs
Wisdom is his long-earned prize
A lifetime behind those blue eyes
to share as the world slowly blurs
My little prince, my brother
whose hugs always feel like goodbye
who holds an ocean in each eye
is becoming some strange other
Blue clocks in their twin tune sing
tic tic tic-Time’s running out
So give a cry and give a shout
March march march-Here comes the king

Monday, September 7, 2015

The Watchers

The darkness is fuzzy
and the shadows are soft
Like God tethered storm clouds
to the floor of the loft

The two small, silver moons
capture me in their gaze
like sister lighthouses
setting darkness ablaze

These aren't the only moons
I catch another pair
staring from the darkness
at the foot of the stairs

The cats stare in silence
I wonder what they see
wonder what they look for
when they're looking at me

This seems to me the time
when fiction runs its course
when fantasy takes hold
like a juggernaut force

These cats could be wizards
or monsters in disguise
or shape-shifting sentries
or cunning, evil spies

The mind will do strange things
when one's alone at night
Imagination squirms
and fear is at its height

I'll let those cats be cats
I'll let their small moons glow
watching with some purpose
that I will never know

Friday, June 19, 2015

Sad Bird

Sad bird
With lonely eyes
Like dying trees
With thin, gray feathers
Like skeletal leaves
With crippled wings
Like broken clocks
With an empty beak
Like a beggar's hands
Pecking at the grimy ground
For remnants of life
For what you lost
Abandoned by your flock
They turn away
Look away, look away
And we won't have to see
The truth
And we can hide
From obligation
From love
There's nothing we can do
The ultimate lie
The lovely denial
The escape
But I cannot turn away
I cannot close my eyes
I cannot abandon you
Not you, sad bird!
I have nothing to give
I have so much nothing
Take my nothing
And make it everything
Take my hair
And make a nest
Take my eyes
And make them teach
Your eyes to be happy
Take my bones
And make new wings
Take my breath
And make a breeze
Take my hands
And make a tree
Take my voice
and make your song
Take my heart
And make the sky
And fly, fly, fly!
Happy bird

Thursday, May 21, 2015


To expect a mountain
but receive a stone
To feel so united
and then so alone
To set a kite flying
and see how it soars
But someone else’s kite
is faster than yours
To build a grand palace
made of hope and pride
To see that it only
was real in your mind
Humility is not
letting defeat prevail
It’s a choice to be glad
when you win or you fail

Wednesday, May 13, 2015


A fear I once thought
had fallen away
tickled the soft walls
of my heart today
Yet the thing itself
the object of my fear
was not what urged
my blind eyes to tear
What squirmed in my mind
what quivered each bone
was the thought of having
to face it alone


Oh, mankind, we are blind!
They happen all around us
But we expect fireworks or magic
We look for the glaring, the great,
The fantastical!
And we forget the simple
The common, the unappreciated
Should the greatness
or the scale of something
determine its value or worth?
The world will tell its pretty lies
and its terrible, hideous truths
So we’d rather accept the lies
than take the truth
and try to make it better
Don’t let reality
-or fantasy-
steal our little miracles
Our smiles, our words, our life!
And our beautiful love
Reality twists even love
and fashions its counterfeits
Reason and science
scream their rules
and Thomas will keep his doubts
The world will shout its structure
and its chaos
and try to take our miracles
But miracles will always exist
for those who recognize them

Tuesday, March 24, 2015


Not a hanging word
Not a sighing act
Not a shameful flag
Not a sword crashing down
It lingers in the eyes
Eyes like broken glass
Eyes a lazy gray
like cigarette smoke
swirling with the embers
of fading flames
With drooping lids
like lonely curtains
closing out the light
It rests on the hands
like a shadow glove
Hands with pencil bones
and grandfather lines
that whisper stories
It whistles out
with every breath
It tears the soul
like a knife through a sail
A sobbing farewell
Goodbye! Goodbye!
Like falling through
a sea of sheets
thin and soft
But it is not a bullet
Nor a dagger
Not final nor concrete
The wise can wear it
like a gliding cape
to give them wings
and fly to victory