Sunday, January 4, 2015

Dem Dominos

Shake dem bones acrosst da table,
mix 'em up real good.
Keep your wandering eye from knowin'
where "thousand-legs" is  hid.

Old men whoop it up all night 
with whiskey from a jar.
Playin' games and bummin' Luckys,
jus' like friends will do.

The liquor's strong,
the dogs are howlin'-
time for Shoot the Moon.


I bit my tongue

while you wasted your breath

on what sounded to me

like deliverance from

the bitterness

of just desserts.

Playing the devil's advocate,

you whispered in my ear

"All that glitters surely is not gold."

I heard what I wanted,

while you toyed with playing possum.

Without further adieu,

the cat was out of the bag

asking the elephant in the room

if he was ready to taste

the fruits of his labor.

"No time like the present," he said

but in no hurry to leap before looking,

reasonable thought prevailed.

Rhyme over reason was not to be

and we all lived happily ever after.


Cold Hope

January's lean wind
carries tumbling crows,
all flap flapping up to rearrange themselves.

Their typewriter heads hammer in the white snow
at forgotten bits of autumn.

Floating in the snow-globe field
the black hunters flail up into the sharp air
again and again.

Black wings flutter down this one time
each perfectly into place
spelling out the bold and mostly-still letters of,

A word that lifts me more than spring

Dick Larsen

I got the close parking spot that morning.
There at the corner, the last one before the stop sign.
I drifted in, joining a friend on the stair.

" Had I heard,"she asked?

And in such few words Dick was gone.
No "Bon Voyage," or goodbye for me or anyone.
His death-words dripped from my ears and stopped my steps.
I heard my wail and felt the tears
burning my throat and cheeks. Gone.

The story replayed to me from different mouths;
it was so sudden, decisive and final.
He and his broad smile, full of teeth and kind eyes,
had gone to the coast when his heart rebelled and quit the job.

Smiles like his shed so much of the daily light
in the world I see about me. I am sure of that.
Someplace has been thrust into darkness
with no posted sign nor explanation.

That unlit spot could be a lonely stand of fir trees
or a small island or a small store,
now waiting out this blackened time of vigil
till another new smile comes to light the world.

Then the missing rays will be restored.
Casting those long, familiar, shadows
for all to see.
Warm wonderful light.

Be watchful for Dick's familiar smile
among new and passing faces
Seek it, greeting it in kind
smiles light our way