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wisps of poems
             circle around my brain
                     nothing settles
snatches of color
            enter the shining of words
i long for the special closeness of my father's spirit
                gentle counseling found in a silent look
what would 'pappy'do with poem pieces?
he would gaze at them like  dark, red roses
                     trim   fading leaves
    shape tender petals
                     look upon them with flower love
what would 'my dad' do with poem phrases?
he would instinctively touch them
                like ripening beefsteak tomatoes
remove unnecessary    insects
                          wait until the right moment
what would 'my father' do with aching hearts
he would water and fertilize them
                        lullaby them under the waning moon
                                     knowing they're eternal treasures
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to wash away winter woes
   make             borscht
           you          can speak to borscht
                                          it will listen
no two are alike
               each one changes
                          a   s it nears pot bottom
            becomes more philosophic
                                 has been known to give advice
consult the borscht on onion size and strength
there is always a garlicopinion
               my favorite winter borscht
                                    is
                                      very
                                          joyful
it is full of:cranberries, beets, onions, garlic, chicken broth, raisins,
brown sugar, red cabbage, red wine, sometimes an errant vegetable
                                        like            kohlrabi;
it is a wonderful companion for a holiday season
if you are missing loved ones
                    run to the pot and have a taste
             sometimes it will speak; othertimes it will bubble happiness
if you are feeling overwhelmed
                           sit and slowly savour a small bowlful
sing to the beat of the popping cranberries
                           dance to beet drenching
it is
    sacrilegious
 to      be    sad    in    the     presence   of     b  o  r  s  c  h  t 


money fell on wall street
                     like manna from heavenly banks
the stockers and the buyers
             ran through narrow streets
stuffing their clothes with
                  green, green money
stuffing their mouths with
                                old,  green money
stuffing their thoughts with
                                              old, greed money
feeling indomitably green
feeling impenetrably rich
                         feeling without feeling
money fell on billionaire mansions
                             like snow from neverending skies
the richers and the hoarders
                        danced on their green lawns
                                 stuffing their homes with
dead,  dead  money
                                 stuffing their cars with
dead, hollow money
                                 stuffing their children with
dead,  paper money
feeling indomitably flush
feeling impenetrably privileged
                            feeling without any feeling
money blew in the wind
                  like december snow flurries
                                  among the moderates and the poor
through the wide, frozen gardens
                         barely giving them clothes
for the cold, cold winter
                         barely giving them food
for the cold, lean winter
                         barely giving them strength
for the cold, hard winter
                         feeling eternally grateful
                         feeling constantly blessed
                         feeling the warmth of love
Zeus looked down and said, "This isn't right."
Jesus looked earthward and prayed, "The blessings must be balanced."
Buddha silently meditated, knowing words were futile.
Gods of countless centuries gazed at thin, calculated greed
Stared earthward with anger
                     Moving toward the mansions and money mountains
the oregon coast is very wide.
                          if you look to the east
                             you can see the sand
                                       disappear
                                        into the horizon, 
if you look to the west
   you can see the waves   splash into the distant sky                                       
                       
 a beautiful woman came to the shore
                                   each day and searched
                                         along
                                         the eastern sandway.
            searching as far as her eyes were able to see;
               hoping    for a figure to appear in the faraway.
 each day she searched
               into
 the western seaspan;
                   hoping for a person in the pulsing tide.
every day her entire being reached out 
                                   until she was stretched
                                                   beyond
                                                   recognition;
until she imagined becoming an egret
                               standing stately at sandend.
                         until she imagined entering a pelican
                     diving into the watersend.
alldays she washed sadness from her being;
forever she covered her soul with glowing joy
            knowing that somecentury his spirit would revitalize.
he would appear on the skyline,
                       squeeze between earth and sky,
   come running to her with smiling, flowing white hair
                 open arms
        diving into the vast portals of her waiting heart


[for Christie]
rejoice in the days
                alway
                and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the silver
   of sunrise
                and again i say rejoice
in the morning light
      which opens up
all that can be seen
rejoice in the smiles
        touching eyes
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in our hearts
   of           warmth
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in our joining hands
                 and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the air
     we breathe
        in the depth
     of stars
        in the gift
     of life
                 and again i say rejoice
we shall never forget
          the dream
of all that happened
                  and again i say rejoice
rejoice in the endless
                     soul of the universe
                   and again i say rejoice
                         and again i say rejoice
                               and again i say rejoice   










 

silent night; holy night
search for joy, search for peace
open hearts will sing of love
calm is found in the glowing dove
sleep in earthly peace; sleep in earthly peace

silent night; holy night
greed is gone, turned to dust
join our hands with gentle grace
shine like stars in eternal space
sleep in earthly peace; sleep in earthly peace

silent night; holy night
angels sing from the sky
earth is bright; earth is dark
hope descends within a lark
sleep in heavenly peace; sleep in heavenly peace

silent night; holy night
every being wrapped in soft
mankind chants its endless song
centuries wake to a silent gong
sleep in heavenly peace; sleep in heavenly peace

 

 

 

in the end there is no end; there is only light. darkness is the shortness of your sight. vision stretches and you discover there is an edge to darkness where there is only light. all defining lines disappear as you melt into the forever and experience the bright lightness you once feared

in the end
there is no end
there is only light
darkness is the shortness of your sight
vision stretches
and you discover there is an edge to darkness
where there is only light
all defining lines disappear
as you melt into forever
and experience the bright lightness you once feared
 

                                                                                  
       in the end            there is no end                                                                                     there is no end
 there is only      light
 darkness is the shortness of your sight
                                   vision  stretches and you discover
 t  h ere                is        an edge to darkness
                                                where there is only light
             all defining
                                           lines
                                          disappear
                                                    as you melt into forever
                                                   and experience the bright
                                 lightness               you     once            
 feared 

 


 

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rats were the first to smell it
                       smell came before sound
                       smell sank          into
twenty five thousand          rat  hearts
        it                    was the    smell of losing
        it   traveled faster       than           horrible
twenty thousand more  rats joined         the crowd
fitting into every         possible stadium   crack
           there were sixty thousand           fans
           there were fifty five thousand      rats
           the Yankees were losing
           the last game before the world series
           it  was         do        or     die
rats are enthusiastic baseball fans
they love  tar smell, wood fragrance, incredible leftovers
                           ballpark    cuisine
the last strike cut through the noise
                                 like a mammoth guillotine
         silence was instantaneous
an enormous, five foot two, multi-colored butterfy
             flew into the stadium and landed on second base
                           stared 
                  into the stands                    
                into the    rat faces
                into the people faces 
into the face of new york grief; into the face of american grief
the gigantic butterfly smiled into the joyful       green of     grass
as the organist began sweet,            romantic chords
                      modulated into sighing Puccini phrases
the butterfly glowed at the sound of music
                            gently sang   "un bel di vedremo"
                                     "one fine day we'll see"
reaching beyond  realms of despair, searching for joy
utter hopelessness transferred to all the fan faces
                               to the open,sorrowing hearts 
the final batter began to weep and knelt at home plate
the       catcher         dissolved into sobbing
   umpires        left                           the field
                       the game ending
                       was frozen into soft sound
          millions of tears blew over the center field wall
spread into the sighing city
  reverberated from sympathetic shining stars
love is redeemed                 love      is               lost
                 baseball                  is 
                                              overshadowed
                                                             by grief

[for the Yankees,Pasquale and Puccini]

                
                


there is nothing left for us
                 we      must become wolves
                              gather all the
multi-million middle class people
become        middle class wolves
become                     poor
                           wolves
                                surround the banks
of every country
                      shape the sound of howling circles

                                                   halloween howls
which can melt computers                           ghost     howls
 destroying         money

there is nothing left for all of us
                 we             must become wolves
long-haired      red-eyed         sharp-toothed.
           nothing       but ghoul howls
           ragged careless bodies
           gigantic murderous howls
           
          filling the canyons of lower manhattan
          flooding the  golden bricks of wall street
           chewing stock exchanges
until evidence of before can only be found
            in our feces                                  

only wolves remain
              gathered on mountain tops
                                     peering from peak to peak
waiting to be attacked
                waiting to attack
                      circling mountain wind is the only music
    howls swirling in the universe
witchowls, krakenhowls, dotard dripping
                         moron moaning
                         idiotincessantness 
howling the end of greed
            chewing the disappearance of power
                                     howling away excess
annihilating wealth
                  howling, howling, howling
sharpen your teeth
                strengthen your claws
                                continuous howling
 cyclops are coming
             gargoyles are gathering
                           minotaurs are massing
                                 ogres are orchestrating
howl sirens howl trolls howl howl howl
                   vampires are framing the earth in blood
drive the greedies into oblivion
                        howl until there is nothing but silence                
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