Sunday, July 27, 2014

from The Book of Mary Grace

Now that field is full of houses,
where the flowers were
is gone.
The wind is blowing
from the past…
Blonde on blonde hair
in the air
carries abalone shell
rainbow laughter.

Friday, July 18, 2014

Speaking With Dragon

    speaking with Dragon

      "The ocean is still missing," he said.

  I had trouble understanding,
   it didn't make sense,
   missing, how could an ocean

         be missing?

        I opened the map...
       right where the ocean should be.

      There was a note that said,

     "U can'T gEt theRe froM hErE."



       "... he don't live here no more."

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Seven Shades of Blue

I knew seven shades of blue
when I met you.
No other colors were coming through.
You introduced me to my heart
and claimed you were my counterpart.

Seasons changed and so did I.
Where you lived behind my eyes
poems seemed to multiply.
A strange, smeared palette, a waxing world,
and the pillowed comfort of the perfect girl.

When I could no longer touch the ground
or follow warm small thoughts around,
you cried to me with silver sounds.
But busy with a life on stage
I lived inside my velvet cage.

Then stumbled to my knees and
wailed, lost all will, all reason.
Love can be such a cruel season.
Hard to hold like water in the hand,
a xeriscape of affection I never planned.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Geneva Awaits The Morning

She had heard rumors about tomorrow.
This time she swore to believe them.

In the past the future had let her down.
What began with starry promises
turned into stony, lovesick afternoons
and endless evenings caught dreaming
in someone else’s back room.

Something about midnight’s echo
convinced Geneva a different dawn was in place.
If a new day could be unwrapped,
opened with the sun,
no fragile enemies would hear.

First light promised to heal the hollow places
where sadness traces appear.

So now…
Geneva awaits the morning.

Monday, July 14, 2014


After rhyme declined in ‘99 
I began to weigh my words. 
Rather than timing the rhyming, literally, 
I found sound has an affinity 
for a much larger harmony. 
A word's weight is different than the   
sound of the thing. 

Some words echo when not said out loud 
Some words rise like mist off the page 
Some words cannot walk alone 
Some words act differently 
Some words find old souls 
Some words can swim 
Some words are for the future found 
Some words were never there 
Some words have music in them 
Some words without a sound 
Some words are misunderstood 
Some words will never be forgiven 
Some words cannot be taken back 
Some words fit perfectly 
Some words are poetry 
Now, many people believe that
something new cannot be true. 
Old ways are the only ways for them. 
But, look around, things have changed, 
and there is no going back.

Used to be, the shortest distance 
between two points was a line. 
Now, it turns out the shortest distance 
between two points is a fold in space. 
So I shall look where I am going,
weigh my words, and describe it. 
The future I am living in requires
new phrases that will become clichés,
not old clichés that will become phrases.