Thank you to Editor Agron Shele for publishing my poem with the beautiful Hebrew Translation by Isaac Cohen in today's Atunis Poetry.
THINGS I LOVE
Long walks, Yoga, Tai Chi, swimming, Geography, History, Mythology, impressive photography, the ocean and its creatures, my family and close friends, movies, driving on an open highway, vampires, dancing, poetry (reading/writing), cooking, laughter, positive people, waterfalls, Summer, Astronomy and stargazing, live music, Art (looking at/creating), Italian - Mexican - Mediterranean food, traveling, Architecture, scarves, incense, languages, museums, heroes, singing (I didn’t say I could), waxing philosophical, trees, beautiful flower gardens, oranges, animals, biking, Skechers, candles, Christmas, soft rain, the smell of freshly mown grass, building/playing classical guitars, crossword puzzles, champagne, fire-pits and campfires.
Thank you to Angie Tibbs and all the other editors at Dissident Voice for publishing my poem on Poetry Sunday.
Your progression of thoughts,
like old movie reels played.
A shabby, cramped newsstand,
next to a hosting train station.
Newspapers delivering reports,
using wrecked grammar,
as quickly as flood waters rise.
the past or the future,
but only what hums right now.
A collective desolation,
strange, yet familiar.
You know in your head
the sweet arms of happiness,
or the sparkling beauty
of dew encrusted grass,
as your fellow man intended.
about others who struggle
no less than you.
Hold your familiars close,
and grow them
in greater numbers,
each day’s headlines
if you stand
side by side
with all the others
whose warm hearts
do not register controversy.
A sputtering engine, a baby’s cry,
and the sharp, piercing call of our pets,
all amplified in volume,
should never be disregarded.
But, there are some hard truths
we choose to ignore:
No one else loves your art
as much as the person closest to you.
(but, I forgive my mother.)
The world doesn’t shine as bright
when we can never go home again,
but we, forsaken and forlorn,
would rather live in a lightless bubble
than not at all.
Excessive editions of the book of drink,
however much fun to read,
makes the galaxy spin
in the opposite direction
of its usual trajectory.
Tough times are not bank investments,
as dues paid, guaranteeing smooth sailing
during times ahead, anymore than
a box of used batteries
can light up one’s house.
Thank you to Jared Treadway and staff for publishing my poem in the Summer 2020 issue of Apparitions, the creative arts journal published by the Ghost Town Arts Collective.
Breaking the Sound Barrier
Make each day your own as each morn’s begun.
Heeding the glory of the sound before
the worst is set to fall, like salmon run
upstream and butterflies must deplore
the trap of the cocoon wherein once stored,
they’re held tightly no more.