Posts Tagged ‘Grass’

Sleeping in Here

Posted: May 18, 1997 in Poetry
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Yes I am sleeping in here tonight.
And it is true I am writing again.
Attempts to communicate, compromise,
Tolerate, have failed like good ideas:
Practically useless and foppish.
I am simply complex, and my head hurts
From psychotherapy and coping.
We are both selfish and immature,
Egotistical bastards, spineless jelly
In the face of adversity.
An oboe, a flat reed
And symphony for a blade of grass.
Duh.

I
I can imagine a perfect spot
to have a picnic with you today;
the sky is a wee bit grey
at the edges —
I caught as many clouds as I could
with my butterfly net
(I came in wet
early this morning from the rain-dew
on the unmown grass stems).

II
I’ve found a circle of trees
by the brook in the forest
where it takes a toddler’s tumble
over a jumble of rocks;
the moss grows shaggy like old men’s beards
wisping from the branches;
faerie streamers from last night’s revelry —
perhaps Pan was here just a little while ago
rearranging or arranging this spot and my walk.

III
It’s only raining a little bit now
not like how it was this morning —
you were sleeping, darling —
I was watching the whole time;
the same clouds that dampened my socks
were protectively wrapped across your eyes;
It was no surprise that I found it so easy
to slip outside to explore, to find
a real secret garden for your majesty.

[for Dawn]

2 Stories

Posted: June 16, 1993 in Poetry
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I had a beer with an Indian.
he said he was an Indian
so I bought him a beer
and he told me about a ghost horse
who could run faster than the wind
who he was sure he had seen
in the long grass behind his trailer.
he bought me a beer and
I smiled and told him
that I loved him and
we drank our beers.
we left and I walked home
slower than the wind
to a bed of empty dreams.

Simple Things

Posted: May 28, 1993 in Poetry
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so we’re not seeing eye to eye
I think I’ll go splash around in the tide.
you are so beautiful when you’re upset,
it always comes to me as a surprise.

I’ll watch your face turn red and green
and I will listen to what you’re screaming
and when you’re done crying and bitching,
I’ll take you to get ice cream.

such simple things will let you smile.
such simple things will let you smile.

such simple things like poking your stomach
and when I dance and sing you songs.
when you get free coffee at Roma
sometimes you forget what’s wrong.

(chorus)

so quit your sour-face nonsense;
the sunshine rains down like leaves from the trees.
let’s go sit on the grass like mushrooms
and smell the flowers like bees.

(accordian solo)

these silly things just make you madder
when you’re in a crappy mood.
but all it takes is a little persuasion:
you can’t help but lose your blues.

(chorus)

For Jamie

Posted: May 16, 1993 in Poetry
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I still dream of the way
your long brown hair
fell over my face
in the wind in the park
as we played with the camera
and rolled on the grass
down the hills by the Mission
in a blanket of stars.

Untitled Poem #163

Posted: May 15, 1993 in Poetry
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when the dew-drops poise
on blades of grass I like to
wait until they fall
before I kiss your smooth brow
when I must wake you from sleep.

the most damnable thing
is that I’m wistful, how it could have been;
a cliff by the ocean, powdery earth
and a fistful of the tough grass
to keep me from falling
into a grey-green sky;
an ocean with waves and tarnished sparkles
to lap at the leaden bluffs
where I first remember dreaming
of being in love with a woman.

Untitled Poem #146

Posted: February 11, 1993 in Poetry
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I am free of ties to glide the skies
and romp and play like a colt in a field
of clouds and grass and care no less
for life is a packet of sugar I eat
while chatting with a pretty girl
on the sidewalk where an ice cream cone
has fallen and looks like crayon or chalk
the color of strawberry milkshakes, easter eggs
and we watch the rain come in and get us
wet and warm and tropical release of angel’s tears.

[for Dawn Spinda]

my imagination has nailed my hands
to the earth and
will not allow me to pass.
the grass
presses into the shape of me
and the earth forgives, crumbles away.
I writhe on my stakes,
arch my back and strain to tear them free
my hands. poor blistered and chafed.
I live.

Untitled Poem #93

Posted: October 31, 1990 in Poetry
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It rains
I stand
In a field
By myself
Me and mud
In my toes
Sunk grass
Ankle deep
Silent mirth
Big smile
Oh yeah
Oh god.

Dawn

Posted: April 7, 1987 in Poetry
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The first misty light of dawn
Caresses the edge of the world
And turns grey clouds to pearl
It wakens a peaceful fawn.

Rosy pink shafts of sun
Curve around a sleeping earth
Dancing in their endless mirth
Frolicking and having fun.

Dodging between blades of grass
Hues and colors, shades and tints
Sage, tulip, sequoia, and mint
Pine, oak, sassafras.

The deer stands on shaky legs
Lacking her mother’s natural grace
Yet having the same innocent face
Life can be filled with sweetened dregs.

The sun peeks out in its smiling way
As living creatures begin to wake
Even though another siesta they’ll take
Later on in the day.

Sleep
Dreams
White picket fences
Knights of the Round Table
Picturesque cottages
By a blooming pasture
With a lake some distance away
Away over a patchwork quilt
Of grass and poppies
And lilies and daffodils
And snapdragons and
Dandylions and petunias
And myriads of colored flowers
Like a living rainbow.
A silver-maned unicorn
Prances through the colorful sea
With an Elf princess on her back
Wading towards an unknown goal.
Shall she stoop to kiss a frog?
At the edge of the sparkling lake,
Unicorn as guardian, companion, friend
An entire land
Filled with knights and maidens
And emerald cities and Cheshire cats
And evil witches and giant beanstalks
Nottingham castles, Tom Sawyer’s clubhouse,
Sleeping beauties and handsome princes
A land whose boundaries are imagination
And not worldly restrictions and rules
Every land is different
Unique to that person
And this is what
Dreams
Are made of

Nature’s Path

Posted: June 1, 1985 in Poetry
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Nature’s Path
Of conflicting forces;
From first to last,
Eternal voices.

A group of trees,
The wind is coming.
A gentle breeze,
Inaudible longing.

The clouds are rising
Upon the wind,
Scarcely realizing
The danger within.

Within the glade
The wind is stirring.
The grassy blade,
Secrets burying.

Pressure building;
Night grows near.
Lightning flashes
Its threatening leer.

A fiery streak
From the sky;
A burning tree
Is the reply.

The storm is passing;
The damage is seen.
Burnt trunk lasting,
Disrupting the scene.