I Wish Grandma Had Lived Forever

I Wish Grandma Had Lived Forever

I find myself walking down the path that almost wasn't

there, a path that I have made myself.

I am going to my grandmother's snowy tombstone

on Christmas Eve, because she is my only last relative

I have left, everyone else has left me, even if they

are alive.

I find myself walking, contemplating about life,

really, and anything that has been thrown at me

these past years. I am thirteen going on fifty.

All these years I wandered, dark and lonely,

wishing on a star that wasn't there, wasn't present,

wasn't omnipotent.

I know I will never be content as I was when I was a child,

and we lost my pet turtle that one day, Danny, my brother,

hid him in a box and he had climbed out somehow,

or the box had fallen over and he had crawled away.

He apologized to me after the incident, saying he hadn't

expected that to happen, just like I expected Grandma

to live forever.

I'D LIKE TO FIND.

I'D LIKE TO FIND

I'd like to find my way in this place

of peace,

where darkness is not prominent,

and I can see my hand in front of my face.

Shadows are full and daunting.

I am not wanted here.

This world is not mine for the taking;

crows flock the land.

I see myself in ten years, on the verge

of life, on the verge of hysteria,

and I don't know what this is all about...

I don't know what I'm doing this for.

Is it for me? Is it for someone else?

Gladys the mule meets me every day after breakfast

from her stall in the backyard,

and the stall is cold and cruel as everyone else.

I can't begin to fathom what my mind can reach.

Is this a heaven's place, or is this hell? My mind is

numb, far-reaching. In this void I think I have

found my home.

A WALK THROUGH THE PARK.

Walk Through the Park

It was 4 30 pm in the afternoon and I was taking a walk

in the park.

Dogs ran by me like they didn't see me,

sometimes sniffing my leg but not saying anything.

I had just moved to Florida with my daughter, she worked

at a bar downtown, taking the bus to and from work.

She was a hard little worker, never complaining,

even when the guys would hit her behind and call her dahling,

as if that meant something to her when really it didn't.

She thought she was the bomb in her own way.

I missed her while she was at work. She filled my thoughts daily

while she was gone, and when she got home we would make

dinner and talk about what we did during the day-me,

usually nothing.

CHRISTMAS DAYZ.

Christmas Dayz

I am past thirty and the days are getting longer, colder,

more bitter. I find myself looking into the flames of the fire

place and dreaming of white Christmas, just like the ones

you used to know and all that rubbish. I wish I could

see Santa. I wish I could get a dog for Christmas and

walk him every day and feed him dog cookies like I used

to do with Ruff, my little dog from long ago. I miss him

now, him who is in Heaven, running with all the other dogs

that had passed on, running forever, his little legs carrying

him as far as he wanted to go, which wasn't very far,

or maybe further, I couldn't speak dog language then and I

can't speak it now. Very little I wanted for Christmas,

maybe just one package. And then I will be happy.

THE WINDOW.

THE WINDOW

As we grow old together, I am constantly aware

that you do not like me,

you never did, and you are only here for food

and a blanket.

We park you in front of the window so you can

sit and look out,

but that's not what you want to do.

You want to be a fisherman or an aviator,

and I cannot let you have both-for, out of fear of flying,

I have found myself yearning for my foot on

the soft earth.

I have found myself waiting for you to come

to me in the dark of the night, your footfalls

on the wood,

but yet you never come. You never please me.

Yet you are always watching, gazing out the window

as if deep in thought.

The Dawn That Fills the World.

The Dawn That Fills the World

The spot between a rock and a hard

place is where I want to be right now.

In the middle of it all, in between it all.

Just like something out of a horror movie.

I guess nothing makes much sense right now,

but in time, it will, just like the sun will rise

over the earth each day,

and the night will melt with dew.

The seasons will change. Day to day, everything

changes at the heart of the world,

and the world is at the heart of it all.

We are one. We are the earth.

The soil rises up out of the darkness like a song,

rises up, the flower pushes past its roots

and sings to the dawn that fills the world.

I AM A WHOLE BIRD.

The moon goes round the sun.
In bitter reverie.

I am a whole bird,
trying to stay free.

Caught in mid-flight,
I don't know where to turn.

I wish to go out tonight,
it is what I yearn.

Moonbird, moonbird,
you flock the world,

gentle word,
feathers unfurled.

I KNOW WHAT I KNOW.

So I know what I know

is a feeling that I know

in my heart and in my mind

I rescue myself alone.

I heal my heart that has been

wounded

by an arrow

the love of my life left me

for dead

piercing the veil of the shiniest star

that looks down on me

with good tiding.

I have a misfortune to love

what I love and to know what I know.

Everything else is transient.

SPIRALING.

I am spiraling out of control.

Downward I go like a whirlpool.

My mind is a whirlpool that goes

and goes.

I am tapping my innermost force to

be reckoned with.

I eat salad like there's no tomorrow.

Drink a powdery substance until I am

bled dry.

I am a weathered vein.

I peel and fold

like a potato that is withered like

a stem.

I am gone.

I come.

MY BEAUTIFUL JAMAICA

I do not lie above the rest

my heart is at rest it is beating steady

Jamaica will always be my home

the clear blue waters the birds

making a nest in my roof

the old man selling fish on the wharf

Saturday comes and it is church time

I close my eyes and see my beautiful Jamaica

an old man is whistling as he walks by

my vision

an old man is calling

In the end I am in Brooklyn, New York,

selling jewelry on the side of the busy street,

looking for a way to buy a butter roll,

and the man at the counter eyeing me suspiciously.

In my beautiful Jamaica no one thought I was a stranger.

Here there are strangers everywhere.

IT'S FOREVER

IT'S FOREVER

Print is stuck forever in my mind.

It lacks on wind of chance and stormy days.

On the end of promise and poverty,

nothing is secret not the wind, not the wind,

not the rain that falls in sheets.

I found myself walking like a shadow born from pain,

in my heart and in my head. I am one with the wind.

While tending the lion, I ask myself do you know what

you're tending or who? What flock, what face in the mist?

Happiness glows and glows and glows

and I am standing here, waiting for the bus boy to relinquish me

of my stale food and old plates at a restaurant downtown.

THE HIPPO SAYS TO TRY HARDER.

THE HIPPO SAYS TO TRY HARDER

I told myself I wouldn't dance at the wedding

because it would make me look like a goddamn

fool and usually it did because I wasn't always

kept up in appearance sometimes I dressed up

like a hobo to keep the other kids occupied

because I didn't know how to stand on my own

two feet and yesterday was gone just like that

and no more making people laugh but then a new day

was coming and I could make people laugh again

just like every day after that and then one time I

thought I saw a hippo waddling across the road on

my trip to Florida and it smiled at me and I thought

I heard it talk to me in my mind just like animals do

sometimes when they're trying to tell you something

that was rather important more so than necessary

or even quite extraordinary I thought to myself

maybe this wouldn't be such a bad gig after all

you know but maybe I could do a little better at it

and sometimes that's the only thing you need to do,

try harder next time.

THE LIGHT SHONE.

The light shone on the window glass.

Life is passing before my eyes.

I can't find myself listening to reason anymore.

I want to do what I want to do and what I

want to do alone.

My mom is knitting a sweater in the den.

It is getting colder outside.

It is autumn and it is time for baking pumpkin

bread and pumpkin cookies and making pumpkin

spice,

and time for Halloween and jack-o-lanterns and

everything in between.

I don't want Halloween to come.

I want to stay cooped inside though reading books

and watching television but meanwhile my life is

passing before me at each and every waking moment,

and I try and try to put it back together before it falls apart

like it always does, as it is falling apart now,

I am going one way and life is going another.

This is how it is going to be from now on.

This is how it will be every waking moment of my day.

Me going one way and the world going another.

It is getting colder outside and I am painting a picture

of autumn leaves falling,

and my mind is not on anything else.

YOU ARE.

You Are

The clash between beasts is utterly complete.

She speaks to me through her words.

Time is like a transcending void.

I am utterly whole.

The foreign land glares in the distance,

we go by boat, not by shore.

In the rising sun we find different ways

to keep us from floating out to sea,

from the rising sun to the horrid moon,

to the day that breaks and bends,

I am here waiting for you, my love,

as the tide fades away.

You are the river that waits for me.

I am the course of the action in the void,

I am the darkness that seeks out darkness,

I am the wading of the tide.

Night hides from me. It is broken.

The seeds of the grapes have been bitter and weep;

I weep along with it.

Nothing comes short of darkness,

bitterness fades to gray.

I am the wholeness and the light,

the darkness does not take me,

nor will take me in the night.

You are whole with me.

You are the grape to my strawberry.

MYSELF LOOKING.

MYSELF LOOKING

I found myself looking

at the glow of the lights of

the city

and everything looked surreal

in the dark

like in every house there were people

living sleeping playing

in all hours of the moonlit night

shadows bounced on the leaves

of the trees because the wind was

blowing

and it ruffled my hair and I called

out to you in the depth of the night

but you didn't answer and refuse

to

answer

still

THE VASE I WAS MAKING.

THE VASE I WAS MAKING

The sand paper rushes against the slowly

turning vase on the pinwheel that doesn't

run as smoothly as I hoped and I looked outside

and the sky was a little wishy-washy and I felt

like I was at the top of the world.

The world had me by the heels and I couldn't shake

off the feeling that something wasn't right and I looked

in my fridge and there was no food there.

The cupboard was bare as well and I got on my coat

and went into the rain and walked down the street

several blocks to get a whole bunch of food to

eat for the next four days and my mind was not

on food at the moment but what I was going to create next

because creating is all I know even more than food.

FOUND MYSELF.

I found myself

deep in a void

I can't get out

I can't refuse to breathe

like water receding

coming back in

the tide jumps

I am the rain

I flock like a flock of

sheep

they flock in meadows

made of pain.

In the summer I will flight

like a sheep that is in fight.

Airplanes run on runways

that are empty and void

I am void too.

DULLY NOTED.

DULLY NOTED

She said it was dully

noted like it was some

kind of perch,

a band of some sort

she didn't particularly like.

She was known for her scones, that tasted bittersweet

as the sky,

and a man who didn't love her but loved her for her

movies.

She was known to be promiscuous, as if that were

a word I would use otherwise,

a mother I never knew about but read about in obituaries.

we are growing...............................................

we are growing

All the ways I found myself

looking at the abyss

that which is the knight

full of light

and life

and yesterday's days

into the night that

is bright

and misery's praise

full of sorrow

and again

we are home

I found myself alone

yesterday's home

tomorrow

like bright as

light in a dark room

full of misery and gloom

like a shadow

WATER.

WATER

The water carries me like a little

bit of a dragon

calm in its wake

like a little bit of night

that is liquid and shimmery

like a shimmery night

in the dark

I am alone

I am not the only one

who is tempted

to take the stone

and throw it in the water

that is also like a willow

that grows in the garden

in the garden where I live.

I am the sister and friend

to water

I am all water

I am the water of good

I am the water of wise

I am tempted

I am not fending

Water goes down in my mind

like the mind that is there

it is my sister

it is my brother

I am not tempted

i want to talk to you the essence of the moon.

I want to talk to you one on one

about my moon problem

that seems to be heaven's problem

as well

like a flight in fright

like dracula's mammoth sized

moonbeam based in a jar

she is shadowed based on yesterday's

dream

that didn't know what it was dipped

in tomorrow as in today

and today as in tomorrow

following fast along the way

we bend and break

like moonbeam's that wans

and waxes

saturday's purse

fallen onto the head of things

like yesterday's strife we

don't know what's best of us

or what's least of us saturday

is more than today

ESSENCE OF EVERY DAY.

ESSENCE OF EVERY DAY

The essence of the self

is to know more than what one

will know

far away like a dream

nothing glows like what it seems

the fireworks of early dawn

encompasses itself

like a morning glow

into ecstasy

a new dawn

comes

falls like shadows in

the midst of it all

nothing comes without

all of us falling into

sorrows of doubt

in it we will not find out

the other thing that doesn't

stand out in the middle of

morning

into the neverending

void

you don't know how long

you'll

live or

even die in the neverending

veil of life

long-lived

tonight is the night

sacrifice

is imminent

SNOW.

THE SNOW EGRET

The snow egret is large

as a mountain in the summer

against the powdery blue sky

just yesterday I said to myself

I wish I was a bird and I could fly

anywhere through the clouds

that mend and mold my future

any day of the month it can turn

fresh and sour and I don't know what to

do with myself because everything seems

and sounds too complex

and complicated

and everything that works

PROGRAMMED.

PROGRAMMED

We have been programmed to hate

everybody

the mailman the minorities

even the people who wear jeans

and have flowers in their ears

I don't know why we hate

everything or don't know much

about history

but it's still staring at you

the way a man stares at his

beautiful wife

ignorant of life as it

passes you by

ignorant of anything you

chose not to see

like when someone loves

you we don't know why

and when someone hates you

everyone tells you everything

about the hate and when and why

love isn't catching it is like dandelion

fluff that catches on the breeze

and sometimes you don't know anything

about the people who love you

but you wish you did.

Because that's what makes the world

go round not cars or even the depths

of space

which is dark and round as your heart.

poem.

The alien forgot where he was and wondered down a path that was lit with white noise and he didn't understand where to turn and where to go this is planet you know something that moves around the sun and doesn't fade forever we remain in this slumber like the hands of time rocking outside your eyes the night comes from dew and within everything is broken and the same.

SHADOWS.

SHADOWS IN DISTANCE

Shadows fade on the stone.

Just like yesterday when life is

a token of things I couldn't find

in greed and redemption

just like losing yourself and losing

you

and what it's worth

I never knew anything

but the sad and broken lies

full of shattered things

and broken wings

like a mirrored image of

dark

I wallow in self-pity

in the night of the light

I am not the worry-filled

terribly burdened by my

will alone

into the heart that's where

you met

I can't find reason to end this

you and of me

and bitter and alone

I can't forage through

the darkness

when night is bent on time

and so are the you and I

and I gave myself a light

to see by

but nothing is more worrisome

than despair

and the hate that surrounds me

the you and I

in talk in code

and you're no longer there

but I am

and you're here

THE TIDE.

THE TIDE

The tides bend

like waves of shadows

forlorn movements

into walls of darkness

in the eve

when the night falls

and the storm rolls in

fireflies are gone

and children are asleep

everything turns into

balls of fire

that is nothing more

than helping what we find

like broken bones

and things long gone

into the lone woods

where nothing moves

except the lone wind

and the shaking branches

of ever swift moving hands

CURSES.

CURSES

flew far away into the night

where traps are full of animals

and I see myself standing

on the edge of a cliff looking down

into the darkness

that is nothing

where shadows fade

into the ether

and I couldn't see

but the thing

that was next to yesterday

and everyone betrayed

who I was

the night that

was there

and there was calmness

everywhere

into the void

I don't know anything

but darkness

and things are thicker

than water

I found myself floating

on the edge of fear

looking into the abyss

I couldn't seek

from anywhere else

and the shelter I found

was somewhere inside

myself

not anywhere outside

and I found nowhere

to hide

INSPIRED BY WORDS.

INSPIRED BY WORDS

I am inspired by words of

beauty

not by making people

miserable

but by getting rid of the planet's

greed

and

giving everyone a purpose

for purpose unknown

a human is a human

who makes mistakes

but that what makes them more human

and drives inspiration

beyond the greed

and realms of space

thinking is unknown

beyond mother's forces

into a life where I live

forgiving things I can't

achieve

a dream of sorrow

that I don't need

LIGHT WILL.

LIGHT WILL

Light will exist

if we exist

and words tumble

from shattered mouths

all light is dim

in words of wisdom

like building blocks

moving in shadows

words form

from broken dolls

on all molds of time

and sorrow

moving forward and backwards

into the voice

where we remain

in hospitals on the other

side of the city

in drug-darkened fields

that sing of rain

and molded rags

and nights are calm

and we live trapped

in a world without words

THE BUILDING.

THE BUILDING

It is made of a box

the box is like a brick wall

I fall in love with the wall

and move away from it

just like the ways

I used to be

in short of time

I am growing old

and one day

I will want to look back

and try to find

the difference

in so many things

like love and life

and how many ways

I can fly

standing on the

edge of a wall

I find myself

wondering how many

times I never noticed

anything

or nothing

in special ways or normal

ways

glorifying

things that are mine

and maybe

never were

WHY CAN'T ADULTS.

WHY CAN'T ADULTS

Why can't adults act like adults and stop acting like

children?
Why can't they live in the sea of today

instead of the sea of tomorrow?
Why can't we dwell when hope will collide,

and things are broken and torn down in ruins?

Why do we live in a perfect picture image,

where nothing is shattered and lives are not

grown?

On the edge of the world where hope is bestowed.

Love is an ingrown nail that follows like lilies.

Some people do not hear the wind in the windows

or feel the pain of their blood running down their

hands,

shadows and moonbeams are just as strange,

and we cannot live on the moon because

the moon is strange,

shifting patterns of light and darkness.

Oceans and vast and unique in their days,

and everything is wrought of vision and destiny,

but everything is torn and hope is broken.

We strive to win but nothing will win.

Everything is torn of darkness.

HAVE YOU TRIED.

HAVE YOU TRIED

Have you tried to see me at the end of the ocean

where nothing is more solid than gold.

Everything is more transparent than weather

that is old,

and the shadow of courage is lost in the end.

Taking nothing more than anything

we weather like fear;

broken like yesterday all the words

are quite clear.

I fold like diamonds on the edge of a river,

I melt like courage at the head of a giver.

Round we go like a little lost fish,

it would be in sorrow that we give us a wish.

In the broken world that we know of today,

hope is a garden that is helpful along the way.

Folding like flowers we know what to do,

on the brink of extinction we have risen anew.

The world is more solid than that of gold,

the world is for the strong and the bold.

ANEW.

ANEW

A sunset is a void of color

etched in the lot of time

it is yours and it is mine

like a shard of grass

that doesn't bend

in times of dew colors mend

tomorrow is both near and far

beyond the setting of the star

into the world where we grew

all we held was life anew

where u r i think of u.

where you are, i think of u.

where you are, i think of you

like soldiers on a silent hill.

your voice it whispers like mountains.

sound folds in a cave.

i hate people who abuse my trust,

who put themselves above other people.

who trap themselves when they don't need

to be trapped,

a person whose wrist needs to be slapped.

i am strong and i am willed.

my lover is harder than anything.

in my heart i am not gone.

the night is gone for the taking.

where you are, i think of you,

like night molding out of dew.

twilight sparkles in the night.

some things go and some things come.

out of all the darkness,

a man stands in a corner like a prop,

and thoughts whisper in my mind

and i am stiller than the dark.

drifting outward in sleep.

DRIFTING OUTWARD IN SLEEP

The house stands close to midnight.

It is alone with its thoughts.

The thoughts are half-willed.

Drifting outward in sleep.

All we have left are our dreams.

He is with me; he is in me.

He is the man I do not know.

He is pain and he is sorrow.

Nothing without will or pain.

A light goes on in someone's house.

The motorcycle gets tossed in the gutter.

Someone's breath is moving so shrill.

The house is empty. Life is gone.

I'm finally ending myself. All the pain

will be gone, just words on a page,

it is raining, nothing left for me here,

nothing left for me to go on,

just me standing on the end of the world,

alone.

I drift in and out, the waves of the sea.

Whispering to me into the night.

He makes me lonely. I am no one without him.

My best friend who taught me to be alone,

the man who is full of pain.

Sorrow is like sorrow in night.

We are gone. We are not.

Words are wounded.

CLOSE.

CLOSE

In this world time is a shadow

that moves and bends in waves.

Numbers crawl slow as molasses,

and hope furls in song.

I whisper in the night of time.

We don't have many seconds to spare,

on the edge of the shadow that bends,

in time that's wanted wear,

we move in grace and space that mends.

Space is beckoning to the night.

On the end of life we sing in song.

Hope is burrowed into the light.

Love will conquer all our wrongs.

It's snowing, it's raining,

all of life is abating.

Everything we know inside,

is like a dream that will collide.

On the edge of hope and fear,

we do not fade and disappear;

in the tides that run quite near,

hold us close, the ones who are dear.