Saturday, November 14, 2015

The wind blows the fallen leaves into a frenzy.
I stand there silent, doubt and rain clouding my vision.

Where can I go?  Even the ghosts are getting wet.
They are chasing the cats who are out playing,
Frightening the doe and her two fawns off the road
Just before a car clumsily rounds the corner,
The driver is half drunk and staring at me as he passes-
Soon the sound of the engine fades into the storm.

A quick gust sends me a step or two forward,
As if pushing me to make a move
But my arms have gone up
and I am spinning
As a stray maple leaf flies and strikes my neck
With an icy caress.


Thursday, October 15, 2015

A Shawl Made of Snow

I am tunneling into the cavernous abyss
Largely built and hyped inside my head,
Falling and groping around the further I travel
Down, my fingers grazing remnants of joy
Mixing among fear and the stagnant air of the past.
It is difficult to breathe.

I search for faces, strain my ears for voices
Belonging to someone I love, for the sight
Of a body I've been craving

Down the rabbit hole I go
Thirsty, hungry, needing answers
and a quick turn towards the shadows
Which have never helped me before,
But still I return and regret.

I keep moving through.
I think I may have reached the inner works
Of the brain stem
When at last I see a glimmer of light,
A tiny flame that is burning.

I see that same flame in his eyes,
The one who sparked the journey
and sent me along wearing a shawl
Made of snow,
But I only felt the warmth and sureness
Of his hands, and ignored the cold.

Saturday, October 10, 2015

The Vision (Everything Else Disappears)

He is tall, broad shouldered.  Handsome.
A square, strong jaw-  seemingly cut from stone
That curves into satisfied smiles and open snarls.
Eyes that stare into me, a harsh probe that I welcome
But believing I see too much,
I look away.

Coming up from behind him, I had an apron in my hands.
Slinging it on him backwards, I whispered,
"Now it's a cape."
He turned, smiling.  "I guess I am Superman now."
He is right!  But there is work to do.
I'm nobody's Lois Lane.

He is so young.  I feel embarrassment in myself, the aging crone
Looking up at him in near worship, feeling every year between us.
Everything else disappears.
Why would he ever look my way?

Trying something new, I took a deep toke
Just before falling asleep.
This was no dream, but a vision
That knocked me out cold like a ball of ice.

I woke up, wrapped up in blankets that had been his arms,
His chest fading into my pillow.  Depression.
The fall sunlight shines through the crack in the curtain.
I remember everything in my head.
My eyes will recall it all the next time I see him,
But I must be silent, because he didn't see.

I don't want the awkward pauses.
I don't want this to fade and die like other dreams in my past.
I want a moment of clarity, a laughing moment
Melding into silence, where at last he sees
and in the corner away from everyone,
Everything else disappears.

Saturday, August 22, 2015

An excerpt from my upcoming novel.

Wrote him a letter tonight:

It is you that I see, stroking my suntan oiled skin
On this hot afternoon.
Puerto Vallarta is a long walk away, yet here we lie
In a little shaded place we found,
The only green grass for miles
and it is soft on our feet.

Your warm body always close to mine,
Your eyes are still new to me
But now closed in bliss, sipping a margarita
Breathing in the salty sea air
Slowly and methodically, as if
Replacing the molecules of your being
With our surroundings, having become
One with me, then with this moment we share together here right now.

I give a light kiss to your brow,
Your body responds with a low growl full of sex-
and a seagull flies above us
Barely concealed in the palm trees guarding us from the world,
The only words I can feel are
Love,
Love,
At long last love.

To finally be able to drink only of love
and be taken care of, to have my tired body
Massaged at night until invigorated,
Then exhausted as you penetrate both my body and soul at once,
Our lips possessed, we freestyle poetry to the wind
As we rock together in climbing ecstasy.

This is what I have waited for all my life,
The void finally filled and passion to be shared-
I no longer want but only need,
and you give it all, the great provider.
In return I have blossomed to you,
Opened like an iris to let you consume me-
Never have I been so completely devoured by someone so hungry.

Later we will lie together in bed and write this joy into life,
Then read it all out loud, giving it breath as we again make love-
(the only time my body does not ache)
Like animals we are locked together in a state of perfect fuck.
Behold, paradise!
It is here with you.

Sunday, July 26, 2015

A Tiny Stab to the Heart

In a flash at a stop sign,
I saw your passing car and your turned head
Doing double takes while I sit and watch
You drive on, a sad acceptance
For your sullen passenger seat.

Subconsciously my fingertips touch the car window
In a half hearted wave hello,
But they wished to touch your face instead,
Or trace the outline of your shoulders
Or better yet, hold your hand-
Instead they grasped the steering wheel
As I made the right turn towards the green light
In the opposite direction of you and her.

I wonder if you said out loud
Whether you had recognized my car,
and whether she gave an indifferent grunt
In reply, or said nothing at all,
Staring straight ahead with a scowl
Souring her pretty face
When my eyes light up every time
You're around, then hide
So not to betray my inner wishes
To know your love, to see the artist
Living his art through body and mind.
Does she like to watch you work too?
Does she want to run away with you too?

The drive home was dark and silent,
The road an unseen guide home-
But not to the heart.
I follow it blindly.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

2 new poems

My latest pieces were written on 7/2 & 7/4/15, respectively.  You will see once again in the second poem how the Beats are inserting themselves into my writing.  They do inspire so much.  The ghost of Jack looms over me like the invisible lover who only wills himself into my sight.

My love, he dances 
Like a child-
The world, my heart

In his eyes.

For a kiss, my life
Is made-
A love I cannot share,
Only my body-
No one else has me
So lovingly trapped.


*********************

I wish more artists gathered here.
They would feel at home


With bebop jazz playing softly above me,
Intimate seating, good coffee,
Room to work, no- room to breathe!
They would feel at home.


I can see Jack sitting at a corner table,
His chair directly under a wall speaker,
Fingers tapping the blank pages of his
Tiny notebook pulled from breast pocket-


I can see Neal being bored, talking to
Anyone who comes in, the universal greeter,

The mascot and soul brother to all-
His roving eyes touching every female,
Chin nodding in appreciation.

In another part of the room
By the window, Allen and Peter and Corso
Talking, staring at everyone walking by and giggling.
Old junky Bill Burroughs sits outside away
From everyone yet within reach, with empty bags
In his pockets that once held a bit of dope.


But today it's only me-
Wishing there were more crazies like them today.
They would feel at home.

Saturday, June 6, 2015

Four poems written 5/23/15

My good friend and writing partner Scott finally moved back home, so the first chance we got, I headed up to his place for a day of good food, friendship, and writing.  Hope you enjoy them.  Poems 1 & 3 are co-written by Scott.


Sunlit clouds through ceilings of green
Brought forth by a wave of beat
Saints, sinners, and all around sad sacks
They sit together, passing the pipe
Talking about the beauty around them
and the music it brings-
Each quote a piece of gold,
At the end of the night
A necklace is woven
But no one brought a tape recorder.

*********

Glasses clink, a cigarette case snaps open-
Friends enjoy a toast full of meaning
That by morning will be forgotten.
Each refill brings a new
"Do you remember the time that..." or
"How about the night we got drunk and..."
Followed by laughter, rambled narratives
Over a clock that has stopped.

*********

Ringlets of smoke hover over periods of time,
Yet we don't seem to age
While others fall and falter
From view, from the table
Where we all used to gather.
The wind seems to push everyone away
But those like us have deep roots
Holding firm against a fragile beach.

*********

It was your birthday, but I kept silent.
Too much time passed without a word,
Perhaps you've forgotten us-
I refused to write because I wind up
Talking to nobody,
and with you never there
I am abandoned, ten years past that.

But I still think often of you,
How we used to bond over feelings
Unresolved and still lingering.
Given nothing but silence,
I'm forced to forget you too
But the dream inside still burns me.

Saturday, April 25, 2015

Jack and Neal

Cliff and I relaxed on the brown leather couch
Passing the pipe back and forth, laughing.
We were waiting for our man,
Waiting for our Neal-  who promised he would
Visit that evening and always kept his word.
I wasn't sure how Cliff knew Neal,
But then he knew everybody.

We were talking about disappearing childhood relics
and how as we get older, we are more alone
When who should bound through the door
But old Neal himself, looking every bit
The beat hero I'd only read about.
He was tall and lanky, liquid blue eyes
That burned fire and a smile that ached my heart.
Jack walked in behind him, the surprise guest
That I instantly pawed and cradled his face.
"Finally we meet.  I already love you."  I said
With meaning and without filter.
The look on Jack's face indicated happiness,
The pleasure of being found.

Neal carried a big grocery bag full of presents,
Though I did not know what,
and he smiled at me and said in his slow drawl,
"You will like what I brought."

He presented me with an amber colored candy straw,
Looked like a Twizzlers but smelled like medicine.
Jack let me lean on him as I chewed on it.
Cliff and Neal laughed together, watching me,
Reassuring my paranoia that I was safe
With them, and I believed them.

Introducing Jack and Neal to our conversation
We were having as they walked in,
I described a staircase I'd used all my life
In a store that kept changing hands,
Its faded orange steps now forever removed
From my feet and boarded up,
Or the tree whose roots I'd laid myself upon
Staring up at the great majestic through its branches
Recapturing the feeling of being ten years old
and feeling lost and alone for the first time,
Or sweeping the dirt around it
With a twig full of needles, my first living room
Now ripped from the ground where it grew for fifty years,
Resting somewhere in the Siletz river
With the rest of the magic forest.

"Where's my tree?  I want my tree."  I said,
Feeling drunk and sad.
The couch was too small for the four of us,
So we retreated towards the bed,
Scattering Neal's gifts in the middle
Of our sacred square.
But the bed became slippery, I kept rolling off-
I hit the floor giggling and it was Cliff
Pulling me up every time.
Somberly we all laid together meditating,
Remembering Jack's cats, Neal's old shoes
and Cliff's lucky hat that he'd outgrown
But still carried everywhere in his backpack.

Jack and I talked about poetry, rambling how
The poets may be dead but people like us
Keep them alive, by emulating them piece by piece
In our own daily lives, unconsciously
Yet meticulously, as if they were ingrained
Into our own personal blueprints.
I looked into Jack's eyes and he into mine,
Touching my face, he acknowledged without words
Our sudden kinship, and I called each of them
Brother with a kiss on their cheeks,
Which they returned with an air of communion
As Cliff passed around the freshly loaded pipe,
The room filled with smoke and laughter.

Then my own brother walked in the room,
I was jolted back to reality
As he asked for a ride to town and I struggled
To say yes in spite of my condition,
But feeling too drunk, I rested my head on Cliff's lap
and asked if anyone else could drive.
Neal jumped at it, I advised him to stay quiet
(Steven doesn't like talkers)
and we all went, Jack tagged along in the back seat
To keep everyone calm.
Steven was excited for the adventure.

The looks on my co-workers faces
As we passed through the drive-thru was priceless,
I ordered a large fry and a large diet coke
In my mother's voice,
Then when they discovered the ruse
I felt compelled to reveal "These are my brothers too."
As Neal eased the car slowly away.




This is a nearly intact recreation of the dream I had last night.  For those of you who don't know who Jack Kerouac or Neal Cassady were, I highly suggest you check out the following links:
Jack Kerouac
The Neal Cassady Estate

Thursday, April 9, 2015

In two days

I'll be having a little "coming out" party this coming Saturday.

No, not THAT kind of "coming out" party.

It's my first official book party.  It's online, so all of you can be there.  It will run from 11am to 7pm, possibly later depending on the turnout.  I'll be laying it all out for you to see.  Poems, links, excerpts, sneak peeks, even contests to win some of my books in eBook format.  I will also be stepping aside as host and let some of my friends steal the spotlight for a while, though I should be around.

Click here to go to the event page on FB, which is where the party will be held.

My co-hosts for this occasion are (NOT listed here in order of appearance) Mary Froehlich Gibbs, Michael G. Stone, Robert Niswander, and Beverly Cialone.  Between them we have a wide range of artistry in store for you.

Won't you come to my little party?

Monday, March 16, 2015

A Theory on Polyamory (a haiku poem...hope this doesn't suck)

I can love him, and you too.
Having just one love
Is so unrealistic.

Sexual identity
Now comes in a new flavor:
Polyamory.

Cheaters?  They still cheat.
No need to lie, be honest
About who you love.

I can love him, and you too.
There are no secrets,
Anais.  Burn that lie box.

The heart has many tenants,
You already have a room.
Stay for a while.

Share and share alike-
Keep it all open and true,
Wonderful and free.

I've got a theory
About polyamory,
I think I am one.


Monday, February 23, 2015

Sky

The sky was beautiful tonight.
A stark black velvet curtain
Full of perfect holes
and bright constellations.
It is always this vivid
Over at my parents house,
You can lie on the lawn,
Put on Dark Side of the Moon,
Get lost all night searching
For the cosmos within yourself.
The waning crescent moon shone
Brilliant over Yaquina Bay.
White ripples dance on the water
Looking like another Milky Way.

I wish I didn't have to go home
Where I have no grass to lie down on
Or a view of my idea of heaven,
Just my four cats to cuddle
While listening to the sound of passing trains
Or the slow rumble of the paper mill
While I try to read Kerouac
So I may drift off to sleep in love with his soul.



Wednesday, February 4, 2015

New year, new pieces

With time comes new little snippets of the past, written on paper that is as patient as Anne Frank once claimed they were.  Several of these are haikus, the rest...well, you tell me.  Feedback is always welcome.

Instinctively, your eye shifts
Away as if it did not see
A moment of realization, rejected
That it was I that you saw
Peering up in confusion,
I bite another finger
and repeat the question.

********

Feeling the emptiness
Of a sea of tables.
The darkness outside calls
"Spend!  Spend!  Spend!"
It cries to the broke traffic,
The ones who answer
Dig up their wallets
Hesitating, then obey in full
and beyond-  Poof!
Debt collectors rubbing their
Hands in glee,
The devil's work is never done.

********

Haikus

In a rage, she shot
Fire from her mouth and I
Ran for my dear life.


He undressed close by.
I said I didn't want to
See, but I had lied.


Clouds burning pink light
Against a busy street.
I feel the cold.


You look at me and
Inside my body quivers.
I despise your youth.


Sitting here alone, I
Await your walking into
My door drunk.  Come in.


Moonlight slips on a
Robe of sadness and black
Bearded ladies sing.


Kiss me, fantasy-
This is why you stay away?
The wait turns me gray.

********

The only time I like snow
Is when I'm inside
Looking out upon it falling
Upon a full, well-lit parking lot.

Seeing the shaven flakes
Play their Christmas dance
On my neighbors cars
Warms the shivers on my back
and turns me into a child
That craves hot chocolate
With marshmallows.