"Hope" is a thing with feathers

Guns are things of death 

Tokens of misplaced masculinity 

Macbeth knew well the last sharp breath 

How blest to rest in benign sanguinity 

And sweetest - the tempest - of these dark days 

To identify boldly ignorant in the righteous right 

To kill innocence of youth & creatures tender grace 

That feather and fill our hollow hours despite 

"Hope" resilient yet in this golden land 

There in the vastness of morning sky & the depths of seas 

How do we value life's polar extremities 

And keep the spark of hope alive - in me 

knock knock

         o'clock o'clock 

where is here? 

Nebraska 

the middle of the country Nebraska?    (had to ask ya) 

Nebraska golden prairie meadowlark here where 

Dear imagination,

What are you and where to you abide? 

imagination inspiration insight 

are you there in how I see things? 

how the atmosphere feels against my skin? 

in these reluctant boring fingers? 

are you there in the smell of an already warm morning as it reaches in & grabs ahold? 

do you reside in the lyrics of that song or in the spaces in-between? 

why do you sometimes float about me in drifts of azure cloud 

accessible & agreeable 

other times

aloof & distant distant distant 

Come and lay hold of this hand and ink these lines bold & sure 

Come. 

Miller Park

13 days since the last school shooting 

"i'm gonna pop you"

9 kids 

31 flavors 

1 old-school metal merry-go-round 

red yellow blue green laughter 

spinning spinning ridiculously 

13 days since the last school shooting 

"i'm gonna pop you" 

70° southerly wind Saturday in a park 

merry-go-round carousel roundabout 

two fingers pointed out 

two fingers curled to palm 

both hands pointing to the 

2 that belong (for a short time) to us 

"I'm gonna pop you" 

9 kids become more 

this park becomes something more 

this air something more 

13 days since the last school shooting 

we step closer 

trying to be bigger trying to be present trying to raise awareness trying to love thru the implications 

(what the hell)

"I'm gonna pop you" 

sonnet #44 ~ didn't need this

This vessel within my chest holds close
love and the twisted things I’ve created myself so  

the regret of letting you down the most 

was my own myth to dispel or grow 

love and time wasted—thrown to the winds

of wringing hands and tormented mind 

tucked in a heart whose walls paper-tiger thin 

your love and attention undefined disinclined 

easy the time when youth lies close 

easy the line between right and astray

harsh the feel of time’s weathered ghosts 

harsh the knowing of love's betray 

this vessel within my chest holds close 

love believed real was merely hope

 

Baa Baa

She was the black sheep of the family 

wearing nothing but a blue sky crinoline butterfly 

tasting of honey on Sundays only 

and 

smelling of the first downpour of Spring 

morning’s chill feels like electric rivulose 

see how it brightens the stripes of day? 

how it tickles your sense of play? 

oh April in Aspen 

wearing morning’s everything 

(or maybe not) 

when it rains things become faster 

so 

give it a lash you fluthered culchie!  

there where you see the worn old path to rocks & rivers 

the softening comes as the rain torrents down down down 

April flies to Venus in Taurus 93% illuminated 

as Bird rests....

oh come to pass in June this will be! 

the black sheep of the family 

blue fields burning turning night to winter’s carnival 

céad míle fáilte 

“goodbye 

good night”, says the rock from river deep 

she was the black sheep of the family

in 

Spring she found her gravity 

 

chant me away!

I have dreamed of the rolling sea 

as long as I remember me 

rocky shores and white sand beaches 

turquoise seas and distant marinas 

albatross and pelicans 

gulls and terns and keel-billed toucans 

whales of every variety 

dolphins play with gaiety  

grab your kit and grab your cap 

long our journey short this nap 

Hey ho we sail at break of day 

raise the jib and steer the way 

hey ho we sail at break of day 

to far off lands and starlit bays

I have dreamed of the rolling sea 

as long as I have remembered me 

a joy to scrabble every day 

to clean the deck and find our way 

stars and sun do guide our course 

sextant, compass and telescope 

Zanzibar, Galapogas

Bora Bora and Mykonos 

Lycian Coast, Bay of Islands 

Tahiti, Tortola and Ireland 

Hey ho we sail at break of day 

raise the jib and steer the way 

Hey ho we sail break of day 

to far off lands and starlit bays