Saturday, December 29, 2007

a singular excellence of companionship

Be my long distance lover,
go and be not with me,
except in spirit.
It'll be a wonderful time,

Devotion to each other
in heart and in word,
sometimes in deed,
such as to commit to
mutual loneliness.

Now-and-then reunions
on lucky weekends
will be distance-grown,
full of hearts fonder;
but always too short

The rest of the time
when we're together-apart
will be phone calls,
and aching hearts.

Saturday, December 22, 2007

silvered senseless

Flow into me that tidal forces meet, diffusing one another's lacks and abundances. Keep me not part but take me in, ebbing and melding until inseparable. A tear or a laugh or a love all together and altogether profound, each one, though partial, is partly unbound.

A mind and a mind, but what's in a mind? A mind's in a body but a body's outside, and though means of grasping, cannot grasp abstract, nor without mind can a body abide.

A heart is a part, yet a thought and an art, a place and a space for an end or a start. Feelings described do not there abide, rather the beating life's blood do provide.

A soul cannot be, the essence of me, tied as it is to the sum of the three; sum of the thee. Taken apart is each singly dead, incomplete; taken together they cannot be beat.

Except by one fear, that one time all should end, and thence desperation to stave, to pretend. Though hopeless it be to forever extend, faced can it be, that each moment distend.

Thursday, December 13, 2007


Make love to an island,
a thousand ships to sail!
Let shore meet wave,
trireme to moor,
For more to see
her gloried land,
this greatest isle,
would make me rave
like man gone mad

(or make me chase
like god gone bad)

On Women (different ones)

Though generally a woman,
she was,
one lucky Friday,
a girl.

women, pretty;
I observe like a child,
with a conscious innocence
watch all,
from a great age
to a small.
They go by
and I see
as I wait

If she's available,
that look she gives
means I'm interested

tidbits from the bus

Not really poems so much as thoughts:

tedium vulgaris
te diem velocis
per diem brachius

It's a they!
congratulations on your diagnosis of paranoid schizophrenia!

in actual fact/in factual act

thrice commuted

Day of purples, set and rise
colors rosy, azure skies

then one of grays brings surprise,
misting lakes it falls from high

next a cold one does arise
like many people:
but cold as ice

Urging Masses

Look at the space I've made.
Christ of the freeway,
and they just look the other
can save their own merging asses
some other way.

Sunday, December 9, 2007

Wallingford Joe's

In, out, crowd all about
upstairs or downstairs same season without,
comings and goings so many to count.
too come encounters
of funny nature;
though party for snow,
none out of a globe.

[well, I tried...I'll have to get back on the poetry thing]

Thursday, September 20, 2007

The Haunted Loiter

like a clever but
useless ghost,
I haunt this house
opening, closing drawers,
rattling dishes,
moving objects.
I wait restless ages to resolve
a skilled specter's
lingering issues,
and leave.

Thursday, August 23, 2007


a mountain unforeseen
observed but not believed
obscene he sits so high
as god of summer sky

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Avian Perfection

what perfect flight is this?
rising overhead
across from setting sun,
white but lit with gold

Monday, August 20, 2007

Letter to the Sky

You've been busy, clouds.
I had a taste in England, Holland,
Read about it in Switzerland,
rivers made infamous for
banks submerged in low countries.
Now I return to Deutschland,
finding trees left on banks.

You've made a mess, clouds,
ruined some things in some countries.
I understand you had no choice.
Rivers do as best they can
to drain it.

But the grass is such a sweet green

Saturday, August 18, 2007


The rainy side of the country
slips by, not gleaming in the
overcast afternoon twilight,
English summer chilling,
English rain wetting
gentle hills roll past
like London, who's
heading toward motionless train

'What History Means', or, 'The Troubles of Fame'

ancient grounds
modern crowds.
once just winds,
now all of them
gather gawking round.
heckled from street
& watched by sheep,
they walk the henge around.

but what trace do we leave?

Friday, August 17, 2007


A copse of trees
fleck of forest
is an island
in a farmland sea

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Low Countries

sailing seas of grain
oceans of pumped water
held at bay
from lowland fields
where grow each season's grains

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Hunter's Delight

leaves the canvas backdrop
under this monochrome sky
herbivore bites herbivore in Jachtlust
green tangles, white-mottled leaves,
thorns & branches & at all angles

once well-tended flower garden,
now indecipherable, wild in its beauty
fills an empty pond full
and sun turns cloudy to night
on a summer eve at Jachtlust,

then nature blows the door shut.
a rapping sound in windy night,
some stalking will seems to wait.
but one knows in here no fear--
no danger comes within these walls.

Sunday, August 12, 2007

On Navigation

let down by
human advances all around,
it's just my feet
that don't drop me

helped by head
they find the way
but timing off?
arrived wrong day?

till doubts made right
must one but wait.

Saturday, August 11, 2007


A Belgian surprise, low country rise
on either side in cliffs, some high
and river-carver lies between
such landscape here quite unforeseen


a smeared-reflection angel
smiles vaguely back in the dimness
of dark-tunnels between daylights


undercity, wound around,
lies a maze hid underground.
underfoot all undertown,
stand dark walls gray black and brown,
creeping tunnels down down down
longly lying, scarce a sound
but from above that does resound
until the day unburied, found,
exposed to light, known all around.

Friday, August 10, 2007


In the rain-scented wind,
in the girls' eyes and steps,
is something wonderful found.
What in Warsaw could it be?
Not station, skyscraper behind me,
not these steps on which I lunch.
Turning round I cannot see,
but it is here, I know this much.


like human pigeons
they wander round downtown locales
looking for fallen crumbs.
feeding off of what they find,
always wanting, always need,
but what could help, will ever see?

Thursday, August 9, 2007


Undermountain, since our birth
under stone, tons of earth
overhill, till above,
deep underneath is where we love.
in darkened caves with rocken walls,
daylight treads not in such halls.
snug beneath these alpen heights,
we shun the days for longest night

The Mountain Kings

Long since mountain kings have built,
are their towers ground to silt.
Although well made and sturdy built
they sink as sand and river silt.

Tho grand their empires long had stood,
their all 'gainst time could do no good.
Tall and proud those kings had stood,
but mortals were, tho' fair and good.

Now their abodes are high green farms,
ploughshares yet reign, no call to arms.
Atop once-tow'rs rest now farms,
the kings interred in alpine arms.

Thursday, August 2, 2007


fishing for trains,
metaphor soothes me.
I 've cast my line,
now see what I can catch.

Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Flensburger Pils

Deutschen in Dänemark
oder geänderte Grenze?
Nördliche deutschen oder südliche dänischen Dialekte?
Man kann's kaum merken.
In die Straßen
dieses Boothafens bummeln
wundere mich:
wo sind die samtlichen Wikinger hingesegelt?


Germans in Denmark,
or a changed border?
Northern German or southern Danish dialects?
One can scarcely tell.
In the streets
of this boat-harbor
I wonder:
where have all the vikings sailed off to?

Sunday, July 29, 2007

the struggle

it's peace vs. power
it's me vs. us
it's hate vs. wisdom
it's love vs. lust

it's time for a change
it's time for some growth
it's time that the world
learned strength from the truth