A Walk in Memorial Park 2000
In
the arms of a young pine tree
a
redbird, a squirrel and me
all
arrive suddenly
as
if we’d had our eye on the exact same spot at the exact same moment.
The
bird lands instead on a tendril arm,
And
the squirrel clings to a tree trunk waist with a peanut in his mouth,
while I stand on the sidewalk within two arms reach of them both.
They
eye one another then look at me
and we gaze at each other silently,
unsure perhaps of who should yield the shade of a young pine tree.
Bike
Ride on the Fourth of July 2000
Green explodes from the ground, still wet from heavy rains
Monster Trees billow and white clouds boil in the blue summer sky.
Little white clover sprinkles the grass like so many stars.
The moisture from the earth and the heat of the sun on asphalt turn the whole world into a sauna for tight, stiff muscles unused to exercise.
Bike Ride Past Bean Fields at Dusk
Come ride with me 'neath fading skies,
past floating fields of fire flies
Like champagne bubbles, they burst and rise,
and steal the star light from the skies.
Now here, now gone, the summer flies,
and fades to autumn before our eyes
So come ride with me in the pale moonrise,
past floating fields of fire flies.
April
Feathered chatter greets the day,
Winter's silence melts away,
Frozen earth warms to the sun
and all at once turns green and young.
Opened Window bids me say,
"Winter's business put away,"
April calls, "Come out and play!"
May and June
In May and June when the flowers bloom,
and the air is filled with a sweet perfume,
and the petals blow like the drifting snow,
then the neighbors forget their winter woe
and greet one another on a sunset stroll.
They
closed off part of the sky
They
closed off part of the sky today. At the end of a long tunnel, past the
vast walls of corn, across US 52, the tree line leads your eye to a farmhouse
on a hill. The clouds reach down to touch it and fertile fields stretch
away on all sides. Or used to.
At
first they erected a red metal frame – a giant skeleton that carved the
sky into assorted bright blue Mondrian pieces.
But
now there’s only a piece of beige sheet metal where the sky used to be.
The Race
The sun skims the tasseled corn, and bicycle wheels whiz over sun-bathed pavement in a race to see who will get home before dark.
22 mile Bike Ride along the Wabash River on the Fourth of July, 2001
Comes a cooling breeze through the tunneled trees
And I lean to the south and take my ease
Under open skies the heat bears in
And I long for the shaded trees again.
Backyard Lullabye
Crescent Cradle, Midnight Moon,
Slowly sink 'neath Dipper's Spoon.
on Pine Tree Branches gently borne,
Till
You journey on toward morn.
Walking by the Grad Buildings 2000
The sun beats down on a vast, asphalt space walled in by concrete, glass, and steel, fringed in green and tipped in blue.
Fireworks 2001
Tiger Lilies shooting through the air on long, slender stems,
and exploding into orange, and red, and yellow petals
are
Nature's Fireworks.
October Drive
As I drive home one late October afternoon, it looks like someone has dipped their brush in the colors of the sunset and painted the trees red and gold …
like someone has taken a wooden spoon to summer’s billowing cauldron skies, and stirred and stirred the clouds around until there remained only ripples and swirls in a gray- blue brew …
a white wisp here, a meringue puff there ....
From behind closed windows that shut out the chill air, I watch the lengthening shadows reach across freshly disturbed earth.
Gone are summer’s walls of corn and a vast orange moon rises on the horizon …
I turn on my radio and let the music sing me a lullaby
as the world turns toward a long winter’s night.
Hazelhound
Hazelhound,
Hazelhound treed my cat. I said, "Hazelhound don’t do that."
Hazelhound,
Hazelhound took my shoe. I said, " Hazelhound that won’t do!"
Bud
say, "Hiss!" And Bud say, "Foo!" But Hazelhound she
say, "Boo Woo WOO!"
Arch
be fat, Arch be round. Arch don’t know ‘bout Hazelhound.
Sky
go boom, Rain come down!
Bud
say, "Hazelhound, Foo, Foo, Foo!" But Hazelhound do what a hound
doggie do!
In pine tree branch hangs a crescent moon, and Hazelhound bays a midnight tune.
The New Wasteland
Cut loose to wander in the wasteland
a stranger to this present clime
Searching for a way back
home to a better time
Just got back from the funeral
where I laid my dreams to rest
mere ideal notions of existence –
it’s prob’ly for the best.
Cause’everybody’s standing in line
it seems
for their cardboard copies of the American Dream.
But I sent mine
to greener pastures
where I set them free
within the Places in the Heart
where you and me can be.
Away from fractured freedoms
and disconnected lives,
these broken strands of promises
that begged to be retied.
Raised by Mother's nurturing hand
then slapped down by the Taliban
(and I'm not even from Afghanistan!)
just as I reached my prime.
They cut me off and threw me out
Hoped I'd wither off the vine.
Knocked me all
the way back to high school
to a world sometimes so small
it's a wonder anybody
could find room to breath at all
And tho I clung to hard found freedom
upon which I'd grown and thrived
and I fought like something cornered
til my brain fell out and fried
til I shriveled up inside
til we both lay down and cried
til my bones curled up and dried
of opportunity long deprived,
No justice was in sight.
And no mercy.
Who'd have thought that Freedom was a well that could run dry -
and all the things we count on were no more than just a lie –
just depends on who you are
and I was just a fly
but I'm not the one
who had no soul,
or a cold stone who knows you
but can't say hello.
they made me want to die
Might as well not even try
when you're invisible to all eyes.
So sting I love that you are you
(and I love all you sing and do),
but who the hell am I?
But I'm moving on to greener pastures
Tho sometimes I still can't find my way
I turned the page to spring this year
away from Winter's grey.
Small hints of beginnings
appear like spring's first blooms
They linger for a moment
then disappear too soon
but maybe and just maybe
on some fine summer day
they’ll spring right back up from the ground
and they’ll take root and stay.
I honestly don’t recall what
all the fuss was about
I just pray that the rains will come
and wash away this drought.
But for now it is enough
to just get through each day
any way that I know how
with no big dreams in the way,
That's what Jimmy Buffet would say.
inspired from life and listening to sting's cd "A Brand New Day" and Jimmy Buffet's cd "Songs You Know by Heart"
and in honor of the liberation of Purdue University on August 5, 2006
I can still remember the dreams of my youth! :) Let the river run by Carly Simon, music track for Working Girl, March 2008
Last bike ride to Stockwell
It's the end of an era.
The old grocery store burned out inside
and left an empty shell
on a corner
where people liked to meet
by the pop machine to drink a treat
and rest before they went their way
to come again another day.
Dream Lover
Face to face in my dreams last night a lover did I meet. Tough and tender, accosting me, he took me hard and sweet - catching me totally by surprise, for in daylight I did not realize how this gentle unassuming man would materialize in my dreams.
Face to face at work next day, my dream lover I did meet. I smiled and looked into his eyes, my secret did I keep? With great composure he met my eyes, but his tone it teased and tantalized and I wondered did this youth surmise how last night my dreams he occupied?
I cannot tell what this all means, but what he woke up in my dreams has slept for a thousand years it seems - So tho politically impolite, meet me, Dream Lover, again tonight and let me taste your mouth on mine in my dreams.
Ode to SIA, Federal Mogul, and Chrysler 2005
Where the faeries
play
by night, by day,
not in the meadows far away
nor by river’s stream
or enchanted glade
seeking refuge in its woodland shade
but on truck yard docks
by the old time clock
and on factory floors
through the big bay door
they race dragon flies
down the corridor
past roaming robots that never stop
tinkling on and on like a music box
and on monarch’s wings'
erratic flight,
they dance with the fork trucks
at deep midnight
while the moon outside
shines full and bright...
In car hulls suspended
on pulley and chain
they ride to the rafters and down again
And down in the pits where snake arms spray
the black undercoating they sit and crochet!
And when overhead the tornado roars
and buckles in the big bay doors
like paper kites a foot or more
and through the roof the rain does pour,
they gleefully glide on the flooded floors.
And out in the lot
where few men go
where the new cars sparkle row on row
and turtle doves nest under wiper blades
and a goose floats easy in a pond man-made,
t hey ride the breeze with the cottonwood trees
then re-enter the plant with intent to tease,
herding gossamer seedlings everywhere
whilst the people labor unaware
of the magic floating in the air
Until someone looks up and winks and smiles,
and leaves his work to flirt awhile.
And when the last
new car rolls
off the line that day
And someone climbs in and drives it away,
On the long walk back to the plant's front door, they say, "See you
tomorrow on the factory floor!"
No, not in offices
sealed and tight,
devoid of air, devoid of light,
but out where you feel the heat of day,
you'd be surprised where the faeries play.
Looking Back
Just because the momentum's forward doesn't mean we're making progress.
Into July and Finally Steady Sunshine!.
I woke
up this morning to find
sunshine pouring
down like rain.
It splashed yellow and light over the trees,
covering the grass, soaking the flowers.
It flowed over the roads and sidewalks,
drenching the buildings,
and rinsing the sky
til it was perfectly blue.
The above poem was one of the selected entries in the Citibus/TAF Poetry and Art Contest - selected art and poetry entries were paired, printed, and displayed on the ciy busses
Long Hot Summer in Retrospect
Yesterday brought such a cooling breeze, that I laid outside underneath the trees and looked up at the sky through the rustling leaves til a single fire fly lit the night summoning another to answer his light much as the breeze's cooling call awakened thoughts of approaching fall and freedom from air conditioning for a while. Trapped in the heat, no rain in sight, til a cooling breeze runs through the night, yet how quickly do the seasons pass calling us to enjoy them while they last.
Midwest Spring 2004
Alas a poor man's pleasure
depends upon the weather
The months of April, May, and June
arrive too late and leave too soon
and rare's the perfect summer day
that Mother Nature sends our way,
leaving us to look toward fall
to grant us respite from it all,
all her extremes and excesses
which she ever with us blesses.
Lament Over a Long, Cool, Cloudy Summer
Did I dream those summers of yesteryear
when the sun was out and the sky was clear
and butterflies fluttered from flower to flower
as the locust song whiled away each hour
and the grey heron in the pond did wade
while the baby toads hid in the garden shade
when each day Paradise did mirror
O did I dream of yesteryear or was it really here?
At the end of the rainy, cool summer
there we sat on the front porch one evening in late august
lapping up each last drop of sunshine like
we were barn cats with a bowl of cream ...
Transformation …
As if to defy this midnight hour,
the trees all color their hair.
At first their green roots
show through
as they tip their tresses
into buckets of blond gold
and carrot top orange,
and blazing reds,
and peaches, and plums,
but eventually the transformation
is complete.
As the late evening
and early morning rays
tickle and tease their highlights
they shimmer in the breeze,
kicking up the volume,
and going winesap wild
against the relentless,
blue October sky,
fighting it the whole way,
this inevitable journey
towards becoming
balding dishwater blondes and
mousy brown brunettes.
And when the hard rains come
and the cold winds blow,
the trees toss their tresses
till their roots show dark once more.
Then they finally settle down,
sedate frosted skeletons
delicately lacing the pale winter sky.
A long dry summer
The land lays parched and dry
beneath the cloudless sky
of August and July,
"How long wilt Thou deny?
O, refreshing rains supply!"
Thy things with wings,
Thy things with roots,
Thy things with legs
all sigh.
Wooster Boy
I has
a little wooster boy
he's cute as he can be
When I goes out each day to play
he comes be's friends with me.
He
flaps his wings and tries to crow
but he still needs some time to grow
So he runs and hides from those big ol' hens
but he comes back out every now and then.
He
scratches 'round to inspect the ground,
and pecks the wall with glee.
He says, "Thank you, Mr. Spider,
for trapping all those bugs for me."
When
I carries out my blue scrap bowl
filled with yummies, wide and deep,
then Wooster hops inside it
and commences right to eat
before I even sets it
on the ground down at his feet!
He climbs on my head
to reach the top
of the coup to survey
what he's got.
He struts
around
with his wings swept down
and back like a cloak majestic
with purple hues
he tall and proud
awaits the day
he'll crow out loud
a rooster now domestic
Cock-a-doodle-Doo!
And
sometimes if I sit quietly where
he can reach with his beak
to comb through my hair
to perchance trap a bug that he might find in there -
Wait a minute.
A bug in my hair?
EEEEEEwwwwwww! EEEEEEeeeeeek!
And the mules they comes and looks and sees
This little newcomer and his henny pennies.
while Hazelhound bays and sniffs and fusses,
And Butterball stares and purrs and watches,
Yes, we’re one big happy family –
as long as we’re all cautious.
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