found true sound
wrote in sand
essence
in act of taking in
a new ear we felt
found again
felicity in the crowd
fell from a wise stick writer
whose loose lips oft spoke effortless
saw within a song, in an eye, vista and canvas
the word of a wise stick writer
fell to us
felt
A night of endless sky
let go the hand into the sand
message to a passerby
all moment in silent honesty
Let
If you get your Street Roots from me,
I won’t show you my Pulitzer prize,
my Congressional medal of honor, or my Purple Heart.
I won’t tell you I was a war hero in Vietnam,
Say how much thinner you look lately.
If you get your Street Roots from me
No fruitcake is forthcoming from me for the holidays.
I won’t slip you my business card,
nor will your name be added to my mailing list.
If you buy your Street Roots from me,
You also have my personal guarantee,
I won’t say you’d make a fabulous hand model,
Nor will I tell you how I scored three points off of Kevin MacHale
Or that you just might be the second most attractive person in
Portland.
And if you decide to buy your Street Roots from me,
I won’t call up you parents to tell them how wonderfully you’re
Adjusting to life here in Stumptown,
now that you are on your own.
Did I forget to mention, my Oxford and Cambridge transcripts
will not be on display
Nor will I say to you I graduated first in my medical school
class.
So, Get your Street Roots from me, it’s almost free
Cuz I ain’t got nothing for ya but the naked truth, can’t
you see?
Mom, where are you?
I haven’t finished telling you
Galaxies sing
And mother,
We live amidst miracles
Most of which we cannot see.
Mom, where have you gone?
I haven’t shown you a deer gently speaking
How you can hear that and so many other things.
Mother, you left so soon.
I wanted to show you the dust of butterfly wings
Yet upon these I believe you have flown away.
Oh mother, I miss you
And did you know one day I’ll rise victorious
This you did know, and so much more.
But did you ever guess how much you meant to me,
And the wonder of your teachings,
How they live on in me.
Oh mother, I believe you have left me forever
just as I beg to learn the pleasure of your new dwelling place.
And how I’ll see you one day.
Being the peace you sought in this place
Where the only peace, elusive at that,
Is found in the center of a grain of sand.
The core of a moment to be strung with others
like a pearl on a necklace.
And, of course, in the secret heart of the seeker.
Mother, you’ve gone, yet your image still glimmers in me,
In all of us who still love you dearly.
Psychological Depravity
Emotional upheaval
Physical drain
Personal low
appearing unreachable
Friends nonexistent
Lifestyle – stale, nonexuberant
Needing to be approached, not to be
Life is meaningless, worthless, hopeless
Smiles that have no meaning
People don’t really care, just talk
End of everything for me
Don’t care either
about myself, about anything
Blue diamond winter
A treasure under the sky
Not sold in Wal-Mart
It hurts so fiercely
now that you’re gone
Can this be real
At times I feel relief
that you are free of this world
At other times I am sad
So much was felt and so
little spoken
I could not live your life
nor you mine
The Great Depression
Life in the wheat country
World War II
The transformation of society
From desperate poverty to
beautiful mesas and expanding vistas
You will always remain my first love
my connection to all women
Indeed, to life itself
Now you have given me my most personal
connection to death
