Friday, March 20, 2015

There once was a man named Sullivan



There once was a man named Sullivan who had several children.  Some of Sullivan’s children liked him a lot but most of his children didn’t like him at all.  Every chance they got they said, “We don’t like you!”, “You’re stupid!”, and “You look like a monkey!”  But Sullivan was very patient.  Even though he was sometimes angry with his children, he never lashed out or punished them.  Instead, he would say things like, “I’m really sorry you feel that way”, or “Maybe your ought to be more polite.”
These children didn’t like Sullivan because he made them eat their vegetables, he insisted they put some of their money in a savings account, and he didn’t let them fight with other children in the neighborhood.  He would say, “If we have a problem with another family, we should talk to them and try to work out our differences instead of just punching them all in their faces.”  This made the mean children more and more and more angry.
Living next door to Sullivan and his children was Beau and his children.  Beau had a small house but it was nice.  Beau hadn’t built the house himself.  After suffering a tragic loss, some of the other neighbors had joined together to build it for him.  There weren’t many places to build it so they asked another neighbor, Henry, if they could put Beau’s house in his yard.  Henry said yes, “As long as they are good neighbors, I’m happy to give them a place to live.” 
But Beau turned out to be not a very nice person.  He didn’t like Henry and threw rocks at Henry and his children.  He also threw rocks at Henry’s house.  He even cut off the water going to Henry’s house, and then moved in to Henry’s house.  Henry and his family had to move to a small room in the corner of the basement of their own home.  If they complained about Beau and his children then they all got punched in their faces.
The rest of the neighbors knew that Beau and his children were bullies, but they were afraid.  They were afraid because Beau and his children went from house to house in the neighborhood telling everyone that the Mayor Thornton – the greatest mayor the town had ever had – said they were the most favorite family in the entire town.  They told all the families that if Beau wasn’t allowed to take Henry’s entire house and punch him in the face whenever he wanted that Mayor Thornton would raise everyone’s taxes and give them all chicken pox.
Of course, Mayor Thornton had never said that.  Instead, he had said that if they got along with each other there would be a great reward.  If they didn’t, then everyone would suffer.  Mayor Thornton was so great because he owned all the land in the city.  In fact, he had even been there to build some of the houses where people lived.  Whenever he had time he would come to the neighborhood and tell everyone that it was really important that they get along and be polite to each other.  In fact, it was because of Mayor Thornton’s kindness and generosity that so many people were willing to help Beau after his tragedy.   
Sometimes, when Mayor Thornton didn’t have time, he would send one of his best employees.  They would be welcome in the town for a little while.  But soon the mean children didn’t like what they had to say.  They usually killed the Mayor’s employees and buried them down in the playground.  Mayor Thornton never really said anything, so the mean kids thought it was the best way to deal with Thornton’s messengers.   
Beau often complained that he didn’t have any money.  “Oh, look at my tattered clothes and my small house!  I’m so pitiful.  Please…please have mercy on me and give me money so I can have nice clothes and build a better house.”  And the people in the neighborhood did it.  They gave and gave.  Sullivan gave a LOT of money – so much that sometimes his own children didn’t have enough to eat. 
One of the other neighbors, Clem, was really tired of Beau punching Henry in the face and stealing his house.  See, Clem and Henry were cousins.  One day Clem said, “Beau, I don’t mind you living in Henry’s yard, but you need to move out of their house and stop punching him in the face.”  Beau said to Clem, “You’re stupid and I hate you and your mother wasn’t even a real person!” 
That made Clem very angry.  In fact, it made Clem so angry that he said he was going to burn Beau’s house down and then kick him in the face!  When Sullivan heard about this he knew it wouldn’t be long before Clem, Beau, Henry and a bunch of the other neighbors would have a huge fight and burn everyone’s house down.  So Sullivan decided it was time to talk Clem.
“Look, Clem,” Sullivan said, “It’d be really terrible if everyone’s house burned down.  That wouldn’t be good for the neighborhood at all.”  Clem said he understood but, “Beau makes me so furious!  I want to kick him as hard as I can – him and all his children!”
Well, while Sullivan was talking to Clem one day, Sullivan’s mean children called Beau.  They said to Beau, “We think you should burn Clem’s house down before he can burn down your house.  We think that’s what Mayor Thornton would want.”  Beau thought that was brilliant.  And he was very pleased with his own children.  They had done a very good job of making many of the neighborhood children afraid of Mayor Thornton, even though Mayor Thornton didn’t really care very much. 
Sullivan’s mean children called Beau one day.  “Beau,” they said, “we would really like it if you came over and told us all about how dangerous Clem is and how badly Mayor Thornton wants us to burn down his house.”  Beau, who never called to ask Sullivan if it was OK to come talk to his children, agreed.  “You’re right,” he said, “It IS very important that I talk to you.”
When Sullivan learned what his children had done, he was outraged.  But he remained kind.  He believed very strongly that his children should be able to speak freely.  “Now, this wasn’t the right way to do this,” he admonished the mean children.  “And I won’t come listen to Beau speak – and neither will your good brothers and sisters.”
“Fine,” the mean children said.  “Fine…you’re ugly and stupid and look like a monkey anyway.”
When Beau found out that Sullivan wasn’t going to come hear him talk, he said to the mean children, “Wow, not only is your father ugly and stupid and look like a monkey – but he’s very childish, too.  Shouldn’t a grown up be there and listen when another grown up comes and talks to the children?”
“Yeah!” they all said.  “Yeah, he’s ugly and stupid, looks like a monkey AND he’s childish!” and they all cheered. 
Sullivan sighed and went back to talk to Clem. 
When the mean children found out he was talking to Clem again, they were very angry.  According to Beau, Clem was about to burn down Beau’s house any minute now!  So they wrote a letter to Clem.  The letter said: “Dear Clem.  You’re stupid and ugly just like Beau said.  And you’re talking to our stupid, ugly, monkey look-alike father.  But just remember, meanyface, that one day our father is going to die and we’ll be in charge.  We aren’t allowed to say out loud that we’ll burn down your house if Beau says so, but that’s probably exactly what we’re going to do.  So, watch your back, meaney-stupid-face!”
Sullivan sighed again.  “These children just keep embarrassing themselves,” and he went to talk to Clem some more. 

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Gracie's Lion Heart

Sitting at the window
  Hail the morning star
Can her cat brain ponder
  Why we came so far?

Crossing Pennsylvania
  Tucked deep down in the van
Inside the darkened portal
  Quietly sleep and then

Bumping sliding through winter storm
  Pappa's hands on the wheel
Patiently she waits with care
  To find a mouse to kill

Death throws of a mouse for her
  Ancient throwback memory
Inside!  Inside!  dear mommy said
  That is your destiny!

But tucked away for days and days
  Traveling unaware
Did she dream herself a predator
  Tucked safely in her lair?

Would unsuspecting beasts flit by
  Small, warm 'n' succulent full
Claws, teeth to puncture skin an' bone
  Fantastical pounce and kill?

Upon release stuffed toys, catnip
  A litter box of sand
Warm hands massage her shiny coat
  In sofa safari land

Still with me she sees the sun
  Chatters at birds in flight
No fear have they of the untamed heart
  Wishing it could own the night.

Can the poems come again?

A year plus four
  Since the good flow stopped
Of words inducing imagery

Not in my mind
  But to yours they come
Your own ego stroke of flattery

Enlightened glow
  Still shines the page
With indulgent data fibbery

Distracts the one
  Whose purpose rests
Well inside the soothing webbery

Or is it here
  Beneath the sheath
Longing awaited revelery

A year plus four
  And now it comes
Unsuspected, flowing liv-e-ly

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Remembering

I remember our first kiss. Rain pattered on the leaves overhead, the
leaves that kept us dry. The sky was pink. There were fireflies.

I remember the skull I found on the side of the mountain. I don't
remember the plane crash. I remember the hand and the wedding ring.

I remember my mother slammed the door and the glass cracked.

I remember my mother holding me. Her breasts were soft and she smelled nice.

I remember my father had to kill the cat because it was sick.

I remember when my father found the large beaver on the side of the
road and took it to the taxidermist. We had that thing for years.

I remember basic training. A bird pooped on the drill instructor's hat.

I remember saying good by, and saying good bye, and saying good bye.
I don't remember saing hello.

I remember the vodka in Tajikistan.

I remember finding out she wasn't pregnant.

I remember she said it was over - "I want a divorce"

I remember the puppies in Iraq. And the fire. Lots and lots of smoke.

I remember the men praying. They prayed a lot. They made me tea and
welcomed me even though I forced them to work all day. They were good
men. Poor, but good.

I remember her getting drunk in Korea and needing to be escorted home.
I remember feeling like a good man when I walked away even though she
didn't want me to.

I remember the stars. I remember blowing smoke up at them and they didn't mind.

I remember meeting John Popper. He's a huge man with a good heart.

I remember my baby girl crawling around the house just to be in the
same room with me. I remember leaving her to join the military.
She's a woman now.

I remember that she drove two hours out of her way to have five
minutes with me. I felt special.

I remember making waffles with my sons.

I remember helping the nurse change the diaper on my son because he
was sick and needed help. I remember wondering if he would live. I
remembered cutting his cord when he first arrived to earth. I
remember when he changed his last name. I remember that I love him
anyway.

I remember the dog in the ditch and nursing it back to health.

I remember her red hair

her brown hair

her blonde hair.

I remember the looks in their eyes.

I remember a whole lot more.

Buzzing

What dream may come
  When the mind is clear
If the heart is free
  From life's despair?
Will we conquer worlds
  Or will we conquer man?
Can we earn the earth? 
  Will we own the land?
All the little things
  That haunt our life.
Micromanagement
  Of a buzzing fly.
Will those things fall in
  To their rightful place
And give us love
  Or abiding grace?
We try and try
  With same result
Focusing outside
  Won't change our faults.
The land will come,
  All the wealth of earth
Beyond our hopes
  What we think we're worth.
A new dream begins
  When we open our eyes.
If we boldly look up
  And dare the skies
The things of earth
  The traps we claim
Can fall like leaves
  Will end our pain.
So see the new dream
  Hold it tight as you pass.
Cleaning the mists of days
  And boldly ask
What dream may come
  When the mind is clear?
If the heart is free
  From life's despair?

Paint

Down inside is where the truth lies deep.
  Not out here where vision lies.
So much to entertain us and fill our hungry eyes.
All the nonsense.  All this noise.
When silence begs us come.
    I cannot harm.
      I am your home.
        I am your seed.
          I am your root.
How long were you deep
    and darkly in the womb?
What noise was there to trouble you?
  What was it you saw?
You moved and churned inside her,
  first a cell and then a heartbeat.
An emotion was your first thought.
  Your first paint brush set.
And you've been painting day and night.
  Broad strokes.  Fine detail.
Is this the painting you meant?
  Are the birds a brilliant color?
    Are the trees tall?
      Is the mouse inside a cat?
Did you turn your brushes over to someone else?
  Grandma cannot paint this.
    Daddy's vision is all wrong.
Go fix your eyes, adjust the light.
  Finish the painted world.

Speak

Do you piss off your neighbor?
  Will you slap her in the face?
You know just what she doesn't like,
  What will bring her deep disgrace.

Can you insist your ways are right?
  That hers are always wrong?
Or can you just for once admit
  We each sing our only song.

She sets herself on fire
  When offenses flutter by.
No matter what we try to do
Her tempers flit and fly.

Is it we who light the flames?
  Showing her herself?
Can we then extinguish them?
  Keep the matches on the shelf?

The fight was always bound to come.
  You can't avoid the fall.
When narrow minds decide to fight
  You're up against a wall.

So don't enrage your neighbor's heart.
  Don't put her life in flames.
Keep your boastful righteousness.
  Call you sin by no other name.

Crappy Paint

Try to cover up the stains of yesterday
When all there is too offer are looks of dumb dismay.

Staring at the monitor and wait for words to come.
When all the while they're deep inside, frozen and numb.

I'll try to cover over sin with layers of cheap paint.
When all I really need is to admit I ain't no saint. 

There

Falling from the free into the hands
of the humble.

Crawl into our single bed and no longer
have to stumble.

When all's OK in paradise and jokers
come to crumble.

You'll kiss my lips and squeeze me tight
chin upon my stubble.

Garden and Heart

I did not take the time
  To prep the garden loam.
I did not take the time
  To give my plants good homes.

The soil is too sandy
  Organically bereft.
The soil is too sandy
  For plants to spring up yet.

Soil compacts harder
  With each passing rain.
Soil compacts harder
  Tender roots are left to strain.

I can try to build it better
  Mix the compost in the Spring.
I can try to build it better
  Help the plants avoid death's sting.

We pressed in seeds on knees together
  Hoping for a great bounty.
We pressed in seeds on knees together
  Hoping joy would set us free.

Sun and rain and earth do work
  Despite our poor laid plans
Sun and rain and earth do work
  Correcting errs of man.

Marigolds and vegetables
  Work against my bumbling hand.
Marigolds and vegetables
  Spring up healthy from the sand.

Will our love spring up, too?
  Our broken protocols.
Will our love spring up, too?
  Sprout from where it falls?

Can love be resilient?
  Is it a fragile thing?
Can love be resilient?
  Like seeds pressed in the spring.

In the fall I'll tell you
  If love and seeds grow.
In the fall I'll tell you
  All the things you wonder now.

Can you?

Can you release me
From darkness to light
Fly with creation
With word of your will
Can you set me free?

From darkness to light
Down in mire-ed shame
Suffocation laughs
Good sister, beware
Light can dim behind.

Down in mire-ed shame
Mightily move on
Goliath's failed strength
Cannot propel one
From within comes all.

Mightily move on
True power now found
Turn and see the light
From you shimmered out
Growing with your faith

True power now found
Surprising its source
With sincerity
Turns to ask aloud
Can I release you?

Untitled 3

Will you chase the money?
  Stacks of paper. Little coins.
    that bring your world crumbling
      down around us all?

What choice is there to make?
  The cultuer says go, go
    get, get.
      But it is a failing game.
        Count me out.

What is real wealth?
  Piles of paper?  Digits on a screen?
    Or is it eternal?
      Does true wealth lie beyond?

Poetry feels good

Forty and five will be the day of light and
  home and peace.
    Seventy three stones forgive the love lost
on Jonah's heart
  Thirty two are bound beneath the trees of bending doom
    Eighty eleven souls march on, bring
the king his medicine.

Untitled 2

From the deepest places
  Below the rocks
    Under the logs, matted leaves
      and worms

A coil rises to entangle
  Grip my leg
    Allow not my heart to soar
      with the clouds

The man will walk forever
  Worn out shoes
    Wobbling knees will soon fail
      into dust

Will the woman come to lift him
  Expose her bossom
    Intimacies seduce the heart
      and revive

Untitled

The tug on my heart releases
  When your lips are close to mine
Your eyes flutter softly, too
  When your lips are close to mine
There is something strong between us
  When your lips are close to mine
All the worlds can fade away
  When your lips are close to mine