Saturday, July 28, 2012

Red Planets

The first bootprints on Mars
Mankind’s mark on that red soil
Will read ‘Made in China’ and be
Made from sweatshop toil

Build another mega-church
Forget about a moonbase
When churches don’t pay taxes
America can’t afford the space race

Space in English will stay orbital
Floating hotels and low gee sex
The rich’s highest playground
Dreaming of nothing next

Russian space will be for work
Ferrying payloads for others
Astronauts will pay for rides
While at home NASA smothers

No more freeze dried apple pie
Eaten with a spork
But a pair of plastic chopsticks
For mabodofu and mushu pork

I do not say that it is bad
That English space will die
I’ve already seen the future
In an episode of Firefly

Sunday, July 22, 2012

Snake Spot

As I do karate on the deck
In the park by the gymnasium
Where girls sweat through
Endless rounds of volleyball
I fail to move like a tiger
Fall short of a crane’s poise or grace
Turning to kick like a mule
I see
A black green ribbon
Weave across the green reservoir
Lapping lightly on the waves
Then disappearing noiselessly
Up the path between the trees
Straighter and swifter than any shot
I will ever make

Sunday, July 15, 2012

Kyoto Friend Litmus

If we are at Sanjo
Near the old bridge
Over the duck river
Surrounded by backpackers
Bongo drumming Jippies
And firebreathers
Bad boy bands
Where the old samurai
Set heads rolling
And floated poetry on the water
Drinks in our hands
And I turn to you
And say
“Let’s walk all the way
Back to Kyoto Station”
And you say
I am not sure
We can stay friends

Friday, July 13, 2012

Night Drive # 142

The night drive
To the clinic
Tired from a day of tests
I sit at the wheel
Driving you to a night of tests
Two people with hope in their eyes
Like fog on the road

A train off its track
Snaking down mountain roads on a flatbed
Slows us down
Give us more time in shadows
Between our door and clinic fluorescents
Trees shush by

Back roads home
Quiet save for your loud tears
The tablet plays Irish songs
Under sepia halogen bridges
Two hopeless lovers
Flying over the lute shaped waters

Saturday, July 7, 2012


Plants standing in the dark
Cold, inanimate
Colorless, ungrowing
Until the word was spoke
And became light

Two girls plied glass after glass
Of wine from their vineyard
Till father was reeling
Then took him to bed
Milked him of their seed

The angry father
Looked with regret on his creations
Turned the heavens loose
To murder them all
Then changed his mind

These tales
Have a beauty of image and word
Like every lie ever told

Thursday, July 5, 2012

Ode to Youth

Youth is beauty
Even when cruel or ugly
Youth is true
Even when wrong or stupid

Which is why the young live
Trying to be older
Youth makes them bolder
Than their years
Which is why the old give
Anything to be younger
Age makes them hunger
For days without fears

Youth is beauty
Even when cruel or ugly
Youth is true
Even when wrong or stupid

Sunday, July 1, 2012

My Poetry, My Breath

I will only buy new books
To keep the writers
In their cages

My poetry, my breath
Short, sharp intake
Of the world
Long, deadly exhalation
Of its poison
The only good poem
Is a short one

Poems, like bubbles
Arise and die
Before fully formed
In the busy mind