Saturday, 29 June 2013


There is no quiet
but an absence of sound.
There is no dark
but an absence of light.
There is no turmoil
but an absence of peace.
There is no hatred
but an absence of love.
There is no sickness
but the absence of health.
There is no hell
but the absence of God.
There is no me
but the absence of you.

Food Court Patrons

Waiting for my friend,
while sitting in the food court
at a round green table
with steel chairs attatched.

An old man reading a free newspaper,
Lifting colorful pages against the air
and they fold peacefully into place.

Groups of Greek elders,
Socrates and Plato
scraping caked ink 
off the lottery game cards
and blowing chaff with weak lungs.
Thick glassed eyes
telling tales of old,
of events that happened to them,
free of the editors mind,
the splendid ego
on a rampage.

A pretty Asian girl in slim slacks,
and fine ruby red sweater
and stiletto boots,
walking, texting, talking.

Old women,
complain about hospitals
and nurses while sipping
from coffee time and shaking their heads 
in disbelief.
I am 
waiting for my friend
in whom schizophrenia
has reigned  for many years.
I see
him walk in from the opposite side,
furtively glancing,
until I walk over.
His smile is an awakening
at first,
but then his countenance lowers 
onto his face like wrinkled wax paper,
red and welted with bloodshot eyes 
and half his smile knocked out.
He tells me gambling stories
and of women who are burning to have sex.
How he won two thousand dollars
then gave it all to a friend
week by week
until it was spent.
because she needed food for the kids.

"Do you have the Holy Spirit?"
he says.
"I can't tell anyone
but I can tell you
the secrets of the kingdom."
He rubs his palms,
"I know something I can't tell,
I'm going to change into a baby."

I look
At infants in strollers
with so many mothers,
and believe him.


Still shadow in the grey mist
Crystal sounds of clear springs over pebbles
Odor of cedar acrid herb
Contemplation of emptiness a cold fear
Gnawing at my mind replaying the voice
forgotten its timbre the heightened laugh

Anxious scoldings almost but still a construction
Not an authentic memory
What was the last thing she said
It felt so good to vanish with her
All of my emotions resonated with the songs
Of her arrivals and departures
I am dissolving because of the loss of her

How Can You?

How can you be so happy
after telling me those words
and laying your burden on me
while you dance away gleefully.

Could you not see it in my eyes,
the gnawing fatigue of loving,
with a fragile conscience,
those who cannot be trusted.

I decided today that I've
given up being the strong one,
the reliable stalwart pillar;
because I have deteriorated my core.

And the roof is not certain any more.
So please let me go to drift
into the river of randomness,
where lives are like flotsam carried

by any eddy and flow into
pools of events where
eventually they become water-logged and sink.
Just let me be that, once.


Is love anything but attatchments and habits
and remedy for alone?
Am I so drawn out of myself that I can never
find my way back in?
God help me that pathetic.
I should infuriate at waste.
I am!

Jehovah called David his beloved while David took Bathsheba.
Solomon was the greatest king but had more concubines 
than chariots and horses.
I take pride in monogamy.
Shoulders like granite bearing.
I was.

I am confusion left on it's own to bury deep
in a hill of stale dry crumbs,
trails of ants leading down into busy mines.
I lunged ahead for the best.
I fell, alone for the empty.
I sing.

Many come and go but I am one who is fearless.
Not for courage but for weariness and discovery.
You cannot hold me anyway.
You spoke too often to hear.
I end. 

Love Fear

I was afraid to love
for so many years,
as I was afraid to hate.
But one comes 
with it's mate;
another poison
for they both will kill you.
The Buddhas and the Christs,
the Gurus and the Sufi s,
they do not love,
not like that.
They detach and
float off
and then holler back
for you to come along. 

Love Kills

It was between my breast bones where
The crest was hard and 
Inpenetrable like the shield
Of granite that held our footings 
But your love turned that
Into a smear of jelly
And when I saw the spear
In your aim
I knew I was free 

Friday, 28 June 2013

Marsden Theatre Saturday Night

A jet sparks the sky 
with movement and noise that
strives to catch up.
My wife, drunk, is humming
In her snoring.
And a grandson is in bed,
with mommy far away
In mind and intention.
The sky is still light grey
as the day slowly retreats.
Listening to Marsden
as I do so often
sitting on this deck.
As Mosquitos come to greet me,
to eat me,
this silent supplicant:
this seeker of what
can never be answered;
for the answer
is being

Things I Notice

One small bird stretches a vocal chord,
mixing with the smooth carriage 
of wind and leaf.
Purple crab apple blossoms slouch
over a grey panel fence.
Streets reach between tall narrow houses,
siding, grey brick, red brick,
bright signs advertising error-
not this way.
Concrete telephone poles holding
street lamps over us.

Did you see the leaves poke through the fence,
the stop sign concealed by a shrub?
The bearded man walking a hairy dog?

The years have thickened my skins,
though I look weather-beaten and mangey,
my eye is keen as a hawks
and my hearing discerns like a razor.
My gait is swift and silent.
Few notice me anymore.

When Death Comes

When death comes,
The room you were always going to finish 
Stays the way it is.
The grandchildren miss out on you
The garden has grown wild and untamed,
And you will never get to it
They will all miss you
But you won't know or care.
There'll be nothing to resist,
No problems to fix,
No one to be disappointed in,
No one at all, 

Worth It!

Love has me stretched on the rack
of your mercy.
It is like a shot of tequila,
has me wincing at the taste.
I am an addict for the cringing feelings;
forcing my shoulders together,
and it is so good,
even if you reject me
and cut me off from him,
that smile and the energy
of his small body,
dancing and skipping,
throwing his joy around with every movement.
Just the memory and the knowledge of risk
lifts me off this chair
and I will not succumb to despair.