Write More Poems

The bedrock tells the story
Not the soil and slope wash
And mute alluvium
That covers the deep, silent stone

Do you think the hills form themselves?
The valleys, the meadows
The contours of the land?
Do you think they sprang forth fully formed
As if Titans from the brow of Zeus?

It is the forces below that
Leave their mark on the soft skin above
The rolling hills and valleys
And expanses of land
The delicious curves and contours
Of Mother Earth
Are only a veil, a thin covering
Thrown across the angry visage
Of the immutable bedrock
Far below

Our handball court is
a hot mess

A rutted sand
driveway -
surface
slick as ball
bearings

A crenellated
steel door -
handle jutting
like a rusty
knife

An ancient oak -
limbs grasping
down to block
the play

When our big red ball
strikes there's no telling
where it may careen

We're a bit of a mess
ourselves, my child and
I. We flail at the ball
we skitter and pant
The garage
door booms like a
dime store gong

one ricochet
arcs up high overhead
through the
oak's branches
- clean through -
as if piloted
not a leaf touched
to land
before us
like grace itself

we just watch,
she and I, entranced
and astonished
that such
perfection
could arise from
such
flawed
materials

Was there ever a poem
That wasn't about poetry?
A book that wasn't about writing?

Was there ever a joke
Not filled with rage?
A song that made sense without singing?

Was there ever a movement
That made any difference?
A war that was fought for peace?

Was there ever a hatred
Not spawned from hatred?
A killer who felt at home?

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great Fall
A marvelous Summer, a beautiful Spring
But Winter for him was a terrible thing

The Guide Dog survives
Being younger and
Smaller than depicted
The Guide Dog lived a lesser life
Eating the uncaring love
Of the blind one
The cleansing of the glass eye
Glimpsed once in a mirror
By a quiet dog
The Always Walk on the
Arm of sworn to protect
Sometimes at night
The Guide Dog turned off
All the lights
And walked the house
By memory and feel
Hoping to run into
The meaning of life
Waiting unconsciously
For the next twitch of the tether
As natural as rain
Cold rain
Until the end

The clouds part
The blind one leaves
Never saying a word
As natural as rain
Cold rain
The Guide Dog survives