POETRY

My Poems Are Like a Persian Rug

My poems are like a Persian rug,
in each there is a flaw,
a word, a phrase, a rhythm off,
an over reaching metaphor.
So close they are to what I feel,
but close is all they are,
like wooden spokes are to the wheel,
like children wishing on a star.

Mental Floss

MENTAL FLOSS

c.march.2008

THERE’S SOMETHING STUCK IN MY MIND
EVERY WAKING MOMENT AND AT NIGHT…
I FEEL IT
AND IT ANNOYS ME EVERYDAY
LIKE SOME FOOD STUCK IN MY TEETH
EVERY TIME YOUR TONGUE
GLIDES ACROSS AND MEETS
IT INTERFERES AND WON’T GO AWAY
…
SO WHEN YOU FIND
YOU CAN’T GRASP
THAT PEACE OF MIND
I’VE FOUND SOMETHING THAT WILL WORK
I’LL GIVE YOU SOME FLOSS
TO HELP YOU LOOSEN AND TOSS
THAT THOUGHT THAT
KEEPS GETTING IN YOUR WAY
…

the single drop

small pieces of duct tape
hold together the world of man
as our lights dangle from the christmas tree
the dried out christmas tree

in the eyes of humans
the spark remains
laboring behind masks of sadness
the concrete of laborers
cement, broken bridges of ages
the community of unconsciousness
the disjointed dance of unknown drummers

from somewhere deep, longing glows
the lost ember of certainty, grace,
sweetness;
our home we left eons ago,
we seed scattered winds
we wanderers of empty heart

the optical fibres of light
hold together the certainty of love
as one ignites beside the other
and celebration begins by fragrance on the wind

all it takes is one small cake
to feed the heart, hungry to know
the silence inside, the place where we hide
is both begining and ending
of the road home.

small hearts, small lights
in the dried-out tree of man
the dried-out sea of man
the dried-out me of man.

inside the desert,
the single drop

thE maiN coursE

something in me smells the way i feel
something in me knows the things i don’t
everything in me jumps and spits toothpaste
on the broken mirror of life
small things in me reach out small hands
for larger longings
and medium-size wantings
and tiny cravings

turtles crawl like broken lepers
through my vacant nostrils
singing songs in hindi,
songs containing life,
sweetness,
longing,
butter,
chai

and dessert.

when is the main course arriving?

Give Everything You Have

Give everything you have,
and after you have given,
give what’s left.
After you give what’s left,
give what remains.
After giving that,
give the feeling of having given.
After giving the feeling
of having given,
give what you get
for having given.
Then give again,
never stopping, always giving.
And should it come to pass that you forget,
forgive yourself immediately.
Then begin again,
giving everything you have,
and after you have given,
give what’s left.

sunrise calling

small circles
golden eagles
smell of cold
winter’s play

sunrise falling
feathers calling
smoke-rings drifing
summits lifting

all our dreams
are here today