Cozmic Jazz

I know of a place
Where nothing is straight

Where the streets
All wiggle like garden snakes

Where the sidewalks talk
To your feet as you walk

Where the wind can
Whistle any tune

And the cartoon moon
Has a happy face

And the stars all dance
Down a long staircase

To the cozmic jazz
Far off in space

Yes, I know of a place
oh yeah

The Scariest Witch I Ever Knew

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Had two knobby knees and legs that were bowed
And limped with a limp and wore just one shoe
Had warts on her lips from eating small toads!

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Had hair on her back and hands like a chimp
Had one loose tooth and a tongue that was blue
And breath that smelled like a bucket of shrimp!

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Had fungus and mold instead of real skin -
And a mixed up face like a pot of stew:
One eye looked out and the other looked in!

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Had not just one but two separate heads
I swear this to you, I swear it is true!
One was alive and the other was dead!

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Had long finger nails as sharp as steel knives
That scraped on the sky whenever she flew
And if you got too close she’d scratch you, too!

The scariest witch that I ever knew
Isn't any of those I just described -
It's the one that’s standing right next to you –
Well, gotta run – it's been fun – so good bye!

Racing Time

In my youth I challenged you to a race -
My lungs and legs were powerful and strong,
And throughout my lifetime I set the pace
Over a course that was distant and long.

For most of those years it was I who lead,
While you trailed far behind no where in sight,
And during those moments I ran ahead
Propelled by the joy and beauty of life.

But towards the end you appeared from no where,
And for a while I matched you stride for stride
Till I dropped back and stopped, not from despair,
But knowing in my heart that I had tried

To go the distance in a race with Time
Over a course that had no finish line.

Haiku (3)

Flags flapping wildly
Like tongues in the wind
Speak nothing but rhetoric

A List of Things That Are Thin

This
Is a list

Of things
That are thin:

The curve
Of a dish

Warm sunlight
On skin,

A weather vane,
turned

into
the wind

the fin
of a fish,

a shadow
a wish,

The last
kiss

You left

on my
lips

Spontaneous Story

You go out for a drive
With no particular
Destination in mind –
No particular route mapped out –
No particular time to arrive
At the place you don’t know
You are going to.

The windows are down,
You’re left arm
Resting on the door,
Sunburned the color of a peach.
The inrushing air is deafening
And then suddenly you see it –
A big overstuffed couch,
Abandoned in a field.

You stop and stare at it.
How did it get to this field?
Did someone drive up?
Let it out, drive away
And abandon it like a dog?

This couch is massive.
The Plymouth Rock of couches -
A missing monolith from Stonehenge
And then some poor young couple
Comes along and builds a house around it
They sit on it at night and watch TV.
They share it with family and company.

And then one day the wife says -
This old thing has got to go.
Get it out of here!
So the husband puts it out at the curb.
But the next morning the couch
Is back in the house
And the wife says: I thought I
Told you to get rid of this couch!
You did. I did: The husband stammers.

So this time he loads it into his pickup
And his wife says I’m coming, too.
So they drive around looking
For a place the dump the couch.
Finally, they find a big empty field
And they stop. The husband and wife
Get out and dump it into the field.
It rolls end over end and lands upright.

As the couple turns to leave
The couch speaks:
I am not really a couch.
I am a magic coach.
I only changed a few letters in my name
So I could disguise myself.
My King sent me here
To find a couple to take over his kingdom
For he is ailing.
I thought you might be that couple,
But you aren’t.
You treated me kindly at first,
Like part of your family,
But then you tried to abandon me in this field.

Wait, we are really kind and loving.

No, I am sorry, you are not.
And now I must go.
And with that the couch
Turned into a beautiful golden coach
And flew back up into the heavens.

And the couple,
Unable to recover from their stupidity,
became homeless,
And spend the rest of their lives
Pushing around shopping carts
Full of discarded odds and ends,
Looking in fields
For large abandoned couches
That might be magic coaches

Spring (1)

Each day
The spring rain

Washes away
A little more

Of the gray ashtray
Color of winter

Until only
A few stubborn

Stubs of snow
Remain

In the shadows
Of the house shrubs

Shift

For years
You can look at a poem
And everything appears fine

And then one day
You find a word
That no longer belongs -
Perhaps never belonged,
Or a space
Where a word
Should have been
But wasn't put in
for whatever reason

So you remove a word
Or insert a word,
Depending on the case,
And everything
Seemingly
Falls back into place

And then you wonder
What impact
If any
That small alteration
Had on the universe,
On the meaning
Of things

Perhaps nothing
Perhaps everything

Tanka (1)

Ringing in my ears
Makes it very hard to hear.
What did you just say?
I don’t listen anyway!
Let's end this conversation.

Darkness

In the End

Thin
Threads

Of smoke
Rise

Up from
The ashes

And stitch
The darkness

Back together

Sparks

failing
to ignite

the damp
kindling

in the cool
night air

i look up
at

a billion
sparking

stars
and laugh

Bamboo Mountain

On Bamboo Mountain
The walls of our house
Were made of wind
And the moon
was our lantern.
We slept
In a soft bed
Made of shadows -
But that
Was a long time ago -
Before
Your restless wishes
Became a river
And you sailed away
in a boat
made of dreams.
I stayed behind
Thinking
You would return -
But rivers
Only flow
In one direction.
And now
For the first time
Snow has fallen
On Bamboo Mountain.

Enemies

In elementary school
Our defense against the atomic bomb
Was to either crouch under a desk
Or in front of the hallway lockers
In the fetal-frog position

As an extra precaution
Talking was prohibited
Just in case the missiles
Had voice seeking capabilities -
But we whispered anyway

And if you happened to be placed
Next to one of the heating pipes
That ran down the wall
From the ceiling to the floor
Someone would make the whistling sound
Of a bomb traveling through the pipe,
Like in a 3 Stooges episode,
Followed by an explosion

This would make everyone
In the vicinity laugh
And bring reprimands
From one of the roving teachers
To quiet down or else…

But today it is different
The children do not crouch
In school hallways or hide under desks
To survive their enemy
Like we did in the Fifties and Sixties

Their enemy cannot unleash
One bomb and achieve
The type of mass annihilation
Of the Cold War missiles
And they have no silly jokes
To break the tension

Their enemy is like the Mythical
Monster that lives in the darkness
Under the bed –

And chooses one victim at a time

A Journey from A to Z

You mark the route
On the map

A journey from A to Z
And then head out

And drive until
The monotony

Sets in
So you exit

The freeway
And soon you are lost

So you pull over
And ask for directions

But no one can tell you
Where you are

They simply say:
"You are here.
This is the place”

And then you notice
That every street
Has the same name

Every face you meet
Looks the same

So you get back in the car
Reenter the freeway
And continue to drive

Until the monotony
Sets in again

And you exit
The freeway to rest

Soon you are lost

So you pull over
Get out of the car
And ask for directions

But no one can tell you
Where you are

They simply repeat –
“You are here.
This is the place”

And then you notice
That every street
Has the same name

Every face you meet
Looks the same

So you get back
in your car
And pull onto
On the expressway

But this time
You head back home
And get off at Exit A

As you drive
A car pulls along side

Someone leans out
And asks for directions

He is lost

You say:
“You are here.
This is the place.”

He looks you in the face
And then speeds away.

He was wearing your face.
Driving your car...

EAT

Thank god
The tongue
Doesn’t fear
The teeth

Thank god
They exist
In peace

One to taste-
The other
To chew
The meat

Not
Separate
And free
Like hands
Or feet

They Share
A tight
Space
Behind
The face

The teeth
Fixed
In place -

The
Tongue
Moving
Around
Like
The Head
Of
A Snake

Working
in tandem
To clean
The plate

Thank god
The tongue
Doesn’t fear
The teeth

How else
could we eat

At the Periphery

Startled at your approach -
They take flight

And disappear instantly
Into the nearby trees,

Mixing invisibly
With the leaves -

These are the words
that live

At the periphery
Of memory -

The ones
That cannot be seen

The ones you
Will never find

In any poems -
That answer

to no one -
That appear

only briefly
in moments

of inspiration-
And even then

Those who have
Witnessed their migration

Are never certain
Of what they have seen

For even when they fly
They blend into the wind.