A Little

A little bologna
a little beer
trying not to think
about who isn’t here
the moon is getting full
but I’ve seen it before
don’t want to put my clothes on
just to walk outdoors

There’s baseball on TV
but I have the sound turned off
I’m listening to Dylan
as he growls and coughs
some kind of tale about
early Roman kings
wondering how that old man
comes to know these things

It has been a long day
think I’ll just let my eyes close
and let the music carry me
to a place beyond my woes

What Happened One Night

What the Moon saw
is unconfirmed
but rumors are rampant

All the other witnesses
give conflicting reports based
on agendas and axes
to grind, but everyone agrees
it was really something.

A written statement
from the Moon
would certainly quell
the speculation.


I guess I picked the wrong night
the moon could not be found
and the stars could not quite compete
with all the electricity around
the city’s conveniences
not really improvements
to nature’s dance

I listened briefly to the insects’ chorus
passing cars adding tunes
the air not quite fresh but less
oppressive than high noon
then soon returned to my room
satisfied the universe would
continue its movements
without my assistance

Still Blue

The moon’s pale eye
in the still-blue sky
watches patiently waiting
for her darkness to come

gleefully choosing
tonight’s victims
the dreamers the lovers
the madmen

the unwary sojourner
glancing up to be transfixed
by the cool stare
frozen in time

as night sounds
katydids and distant
traffic and machinery
recede into echoes

and reality hangs
in the balance
joy and sorrow become
equal partners

with the beauty
of her fullness
being perfectly
enough for this moment


With silence the cauldron
and darkness the fire
ideas simmer
and thoughts grow seasoned
in a stew of words unspoken
waiting for the precise moment
to dish it up
and serve it hot
with no more
nor less meaning
than sunshine or music
or a sudden cool breeze
on a hot afternoon
without even knowing,
is anyone hungry?


In the wee hours
of the night
it comes together
or undone
perhaps when
you realize
there’s no place
left to run
Yesterday seems
a long time ago
tomorrow is just
a vague rumor
grown accustomed
to the heartache
like living with
a benign tumor
the moon is wearing
her resting bitch face
from her we’ll get
no sympathy
still we look up
and offer simple prayers
that somehow
she’ll set us free
what you thought
was your real struggle
is in fact your only fun
so you chuckle
and you whisper,
“come on, morning sun”


A gray smudge of a cloud
like someone erasing a place
in the sky passes in front
of a moon so full it might burst
but it’s a small cloud…
and soon the pale light returns
bringing memories of the future
dreams of the past
and a deep joyful breath
of the present