molecules of my youth

Splashed across the planet,

dashed upon the rocks of the

Atlantic, Old Orchard Beach,

like grains of sand, each one

has its place in the larger

scheme of things, the big picture

that we cannot see through

mere mortals’ eyes.

Left on busses, trains, along

city streets, at the tops of

the tallest buildings, in taxis,

restaurants, subways, from

sea to shining sea and carried

beyond.  Spread atop mountain

peaks, blowing eastward, swirling

in the wind, touching down in

pristine lakes, raging rivers,

trickling streams, on a single

blade of grass gently waving

in the Flint Hills of Kansas.

The molecules of my youth

live on forever, even as I pass

the midpoint of this journey

into bliss.  They dance and sing

and scramble ‘cross the page

in words and pictures, saved

in the intricate gears and wheels

of time.  They stare back at me

sparkling, filled with life, precious

beyond gold and diamonds,

in my children’s eyes.

more than full

Coming home from Idaho we stopped

to fill up the tank.  Annie looked

at the gauge and said,  ”Look dad,

the tank is more than full.”

My heart, the sky, my soul, our eyes,

the love that lives within us, freely

given by creation’s maker, over-

flowing, ever-growing.

More than full: my plate, my mind,

the words I find, blowing in with gusts

of wind, landing softly on the page.

And so I pray that I may empty

a bit of myself for all the world,

to help, to heal, to spread, to feel,

to spill the light of infinite love.

To spill the light of infinite love.

* * *

This is the last poem for my forthcoming book Blogged: Two years of poetry from cyberspace.  I started the project on April 30, 2011 and I’ve written over 100 poems in the past two years.  All the poems were written “live” onto the blog.  The next step is to cut, paste, edit, and format.  I hope to have the paperback version of the book ready within a few months.  I’ll keep you posted.

With one book of poetry complete, I’ll be starting a second soon.  The next poetry project is going to have a specific theme.  Recently I saw a book of poems that was written about and around the famous folksinger, Leadbelly.  That gave me an idea.  I studied Woody Guthrie, his life, his times, his music, in grad school.  How about a book of poems on Guthrie?  I’m considering this as the working title for my next book of poetry:  Words on Woody: A True American.  

 - dan

the stories of real life

Ripples shimmering in orange sunset,

the boat cuts water, knifelike, as

academics party, discussing theories

and politics, attempting to solve

problems without truly understanding

underlying causes.  Intellectually

towering above common folk,

PhDs offer solutions based on

textbooks and hypotheses, an

exercise in futility.

I stare across the water, knowing I

no longer belong.  Perhaps,

I never did, my creative spirit

driving me against the institutional

tide.  Now my vitae needs

updating, but I don’t care.  No

more feathers in my cap, I’ll

let them fly into the wind like

the eagles that soar above the lake

in January.  I’d rather describe

the moment, the breeze,

the whitewater of the wake,

the excessive homes along

the hills, the occasional minimalist

gem that would make the perfect

writing shack, a place to record

the stories of real life.

in good company

Imagine a world without chicken soup,

where cooking is joyless.  Imagine a

world with no rules of order,

no elements of style.  Imagine a world

in which Peter Rabbit and Huckleberry

Finn never existed in word or

imagination.  Imagine a world

with no “Leaves of Grass.”

 

The “self-published” have often

been looked upon as less than writers,

sneered at by a snobbish industry.

They’ve been rejected, accused, ignored

and left to rust.  They’ve been treated

with disrespect, disdain, and dismissed

as amateurs.

 

I know.

I was once told,

“Your story is splendid, but we have no

room on our shelves.”

Splendid?  Indeed!

It’s a harrowing tale of rape and child abuse.

The critic never read a page.

 

Stories survive.  Survivor’s stories live on.

Mark Twain, Upton Sinclair, Carl Sandburg,

James Joyce, Steven Crane, Edgar Allen Poe,

Walt Whtman, Ezra Pound, Henry David Thoreau,

Thomas Paine, and Virginia Wolff,

just to name

a few.

drive-by

He stands on the corner

with sign in hand.  ”Need

food: $1.00 please.”  I watch

as he strolls up and down

the sidewalk, waiting for

windows to roll down.

Dirty jeans, ragged shirt,

hollow eyes, but his hair is

perfect, like a werewolf of

London or something.

I wonder.

News of doctors coming

down from the hill dressed

like hobos, panhandling on

the side makes me leery.

I’m a drive-by.  I pay no heed

to the need of my fellow man.

I’m a drive by.  I’ve got my

own mouths to feed.

I’m a drive by.  Perhaps, I’m

not much better than a

shooter.

broken

He was beaten as a child,

she was treated like a queen.

He had to fight to get out,

she settled for the machine.

He failed 10,000 times

to discover ancient truth.

She never learned to leave

the trappings of her youth.

Freedom and success,

two words thrown around,

are complicated concepts,

touchstones to be found.

To realize we’re all broken,

a storm before the sun.

Yet, together we’re all part of,

a greater, broken One.

2:28 in 634

It’s 2:29 in the morning.  I’m awake.

Slept well enough, not long.  Annie’s

on the queen sofa-sleeper, stirring.

She likely senses my restlessness

and the gentle illumination from

the Macbook Air.

I turned off the music I’d left on as

a lullaby, country, not my favorite,

but they tell good stories.

It’s 2:35:31 and a draft of this writing

has been autosaved.  Comforting, yet

obsolescing ink, paper, something

precious lost.  It’s 2:40.  Annie’s restless,

making little dream sounds and

stirring even more.  It’s 2:49.

I feel sleep

returning

to room 634.

broken prose

Driving through the scablands.

I reconsider.  Is poetry easy?

Really?  How do I describe

scabs that won’t fully heal

using beautiful streams of words?

Jagged cuts and scabs

cover the land, my heart, my soul.

My words come in jumps and

starts, fits and stops.  I spit.

Hell, poetry isn’t easy.

I’m not even a poet.

I’m just wandering aimless in life,

a wounded man in the scablands,

writing broken prose.

tolerance and bigotry

Tolerance treads lightly over jagged

rocks, burning coals, and frozen waters.

One misstep might be death for her

or the ones she nurtures.

Bigotry treads without care, stomping

out love, starting fires, drowning dreams,

all the while, living the high life

at the expense of the downtrodden,

and using the same tools as

Tolerance.

the elements

…as the Earth crunches beneath my feet.

I gaze forward into water and sky.  The

roaring creek, swift in motion, carries

my worries away.  Clouds split the sky

into a yin-yang, white-blue scape,

filling me with inner-peace.  Light reflecting

on dark water shimmers divine.  A tiny

blade of grass stabs through last year’s

composting leaves, death bringing new

life.

 

I praise the elements:

Earth.  Water. Sky.

Body.  Blood.  Spirit.

I take and eat, thinking not

of generations to come.

I take and eat.

I am forgiven.