Next

Around about now I know to know what to do next.

But the next thing I could do is not the next thing. 

So I need to do what I should do next first.

It's never really easy to do next what I should do. 

And it’s not the next thing someone else would do.

Because what I should do next isn't what I would do or could do, even if I had the choice.

And what I will do next isn't something I couldn't do.

In fact it's something that's never been done before, at least not not the way I'd do it- Not yet, not anymore  

The next thing I'm going to do is the next thing to the best and last thing I ever did, at least for now. 

Because the next thing I'll do might be better than before. 

Youth

Lightning struck where I once had tread.

But the halcyon days I had have all but gone, and my youth with it. 

And a black hole in the ground gapes where I gallantly once stood on green sod with defiance. 

With pensive ambivalence I have looked down at it now for years.  

I wish for that bolt again. 

For it not for that blast of fire I’m certain my joys of today would be lost. 

The dust in my mouth doesn’t bother me.

No, I want more  of it 

While I’m down in this hole,

Filling it back up with my bare hands. 

Mosaic

Life is like a glass mosaic 

With broken colored shards of glass

in unspoken truth,

Hardened as our days pass. 

But oh, when light shines through it

We see ourselves on full display 

And the breaks and hues tell what you know

About yourself. 

That broken piece shines so bright. 

And your eyes are drawn to it. 

Funny, thought that was what was hurting so much... why is it up there now?  

Acceptance, you realize, is like the sun shining bright through the window. 

And, with you all broken and put back together, Everyone enjoys you in their window.  

Hammer, Anvil, & Stirrup

When you are born without something 

That you should otherwise normally have 

Then you are.... special. 

The world is full of these people, like us. 

We don’t talk about it, unless asked. 

We live out days full with perception. 

Our brains active with compensation. 

Out in front of every conversation 

A sight that could not be seen

A sound not fully heard 

And a brain busy with the tasks of 

Seeing and hearing without eye or ear. 

Would you be able to spot someone like this?

Such a depraved person,

Who’d never had complete sight,

Nor hammer, anvil, or stirrup. 

So sharp would be the measure of all taken in,

With the one set had left, 

they’d best us all. 

My Smoking Carbine

This gun is smoking.

Whirring sounds above my head didn't sound like what I'd expected.

I'm in my foxhole, and I'm scared.

When I was young I'd think about this.

It was simple to come to a conclusion, about living, about dying.

And might and sharp cunning skill carried the day and adulation,

and fruits of all endeavors toiled at the surpassing of others.

But I have shown myself what I can do.

And I'm in my foxhole, now and again.

I'm scared, because nowadays I level my gun and pull the trigger,

They die, and I do too.

Arrow

Behind my eyes

Some things others might notice...

Might mistake me for being dismissive.

Settled in my chest above my stomach and behind my heart,

A heat of sorts which drives my nerve,

Keeps me alert.

Sometimes it wells up 

But I'm not sad.

I'm not what you think.

I'm an arrow, nocked with aim.

Beacon

See me through the thickets of brush, from the hill where you hide.

And you sneak out late and go further than the night before.  Yes, I shine on.

And those journeys you had through time and countries.  You wondered about me.  Me, here just the same.

Out there you know and you kick all the same.  You kick and kick.

Rain comes, and false promises, false gods, and wells without water telling you about hope and vindication.

Further out you stride.

Where, one day, a light shines where you can see, see your knuckles, bloody.  You wash your hands.

And then, alas, you look up.  And you see me still here, shining, leading you home.  Your home, ordained with expectation.

And after all these years, you finally see me, yourself calling out to the person you tried to be.

Welcome.

Dead Wood

 It is not the duty of a child to mend the pains of a parent.

Like a tree, a child needs solid ground to grow.

A child will grow nonetheless and dig roots where soil feeds.

No, a parent's love is a one-way duty, to supply fertile ground.

To give, to teach, to care.

Any parent who confuses this will find themselves alone on rocky ground.

Or worse, in their own grove of dead wood.

We All Are Thespians

Sometimes you find yourself unseen

Where you expect to be noticed. 

And the decision, the process of deciding, to make yourself known happens.  

You decide to make yourself like someone you’re really not. Or rather you become the person that you think you ought to be. 

Just so, just so you’ll connect, you’ll be heard.  While that hole you’ve kept covered with your vest grows. 

Because what they all saw wasn’t really you at all.  

Shilo’s

I remember the diner in downtown San Antonio. They had the famous split pea soup. My dad went there. His office was on the next block, with all the pigeons, cigars, and mid day sun, and they ate and planned and laughed while I tagged along. 

And now I have worked in a downtown, in fact I have worked everywhere. And it’s 25 years later, but dammit I’ll find my Shilo’s.

Tree Trimming

What does it say about a man 

When I know that chainsaw can fall 

On me......

But I cut the branch anyway.  Nevermind that I’m standing on a ladder twelve feet in the air. 

And sure as hell, the freshly cut butt of that branch came right at my head.  I clung to my ladder, and the tree. 

Down it all came. The weight of it was so much more than I’d figured. Glad it didn’t take my fence with it. 

And the scant little bit of blood on my arm... well that’s just where the saw teeth  touched me before I threw it down- all the way down, before it cut off my arm too. 

But now the grass can grow again.  That vitex tree I planted can bloom again. Now the webworms are gone.  

Maybe it’s just that I was aware of the peril I just created, like a stimulant of sorts.  And, I’m so pleased with my yard.

But worrying for the safety of my family will make me lose sleep for days. 

Riverstone

A riverbed would be my most likely home.
Where, only sounds through water make sense...

Such like the thoughts in my head.

My world is my own.
As jagged as I once was,
I am now smooth.

Apply by Monday

The contradictions of this place irritated my mind. 

In front, a statue of a man washing another man’s feet, but a door locked only to allow approved visitors in. Yes, I had to wait to get in. 

And, an invitation to see for your self, 

To witness all the learning and personal growth of a class full of people paying $88 thousand for the privilege. By the way, class is limited to 36, but they’re flexible if you apply by Monday. 

This....building, which was built by the charitable donations of others, now belongs to a completely different owner who, wants you to apply by Monday. 

As I left I got an invitation to a poker game,

Tomorrow night from an old friend. I think my odds are better there. 

I like the statue though, Good reflection of the ones who actually paid for it. 

The Problem

You have done it again.


   What have I done?


You have put yourself in the middle of things.


   So, what's your point?


Well, it's about what you did.


  What?  What did I do?


Whatever you did, they didn't come away with whatever they wanted.


   Well, OK, what did they want?


What, you couldn't tell?


  Tell what?


They wanted to be proven right.


  Oh, was that what that was all about?


Yes, and you couldn't tell?


  Well, I really wasn't thinking about that.


What?


   I was just thinking about the problem.


Oh, well that's good I guess.


   Wasn't that what this was all about....solving the problem?


No, they wanted to blame you for the problem. And, they wanted to prove to you that you were wrong.


   Really?  Why?


Well, were you wrong?


   I don't know.  I was just trying to make sure we were right.


We?


  Well, that was the purpose of the discussion, right?


No, not at all. Did you solve the problem?


  Yes, of course.

What a woman does to a man

A ricochet,
Piercing the plans made..
Bounding from wall to wall
While I dined on my dinner.


With breaking glass
I forgot what happened before
And sit among shards tonight,
Staring out the door.


And a bullet still spins
In my wall,
Shot from some gun out there,
I can still hear it.


At one time in my life I was a solitary man.
I'd fry my steak and make mac 'n cheese,
Sit in my chair and watch TV.


Then, a shot rang out. 
And now I'm dodging bullets.
Or, I'm trying to get shot.
I'm not sure anymore.