2010, A Space

So tell me, if we throw all of our skeletons
up in the air, will they morph into space-
ships, transport us to the next level? And
will we really be that more evolved? Perhaps
we need a Hal to give us the answer, as to
exactly how we fucked everything up;

how at the end of it, we are just tail-less
apes making bones about nothing.

Just More Sky

We could have walked together
under the Elm trees, arm in arm
along Champs-Élysées, laughed
about how the rich and famous
really aren’t that important,
about how music is secondary to
the rapid sound of a sparrow’s heart
as it sits in your hand after thinking
a living room window is just more sky.

Had the window been open, it would
have been different, the chance of
getting closer than a poem
to an expanded world of fantastic
reflection was like throwing a bread crumb
onto a river covered in ice, there was no
possibility of anything but reverberation.
At times, I think of her when I see a horse
standing in the early morning fog

breathing a memory of its first mate.
I remember how quickly she gave it all up
for the company of scoundrel(s) and wonder
had she known everything she knows today
would she have done the same?
Someone taps quietly, translating words
into deeds in the middle of the night.
I could have met her there, in Paris
if she hadn’t been such a bitch.

Poetry Anthology

Check out this link to the book "Lilith", A Collection of Women's Writes in which I am featured.

http://www.lulu.com/content/paperback-book/lilith/7923763

It's exciting!

only the weather

I often wonder did anyone
really walk on the moon

and who named it
Sea of Tranquility

perhaps it should be
Sea Now Disturbed

honestly
who tees off when they reach

something like the moon?
Could the first man

not have written his name
in a brick of cheddar cheese

and left it to petrify
sort of like a joke or an R.I.P.

carved in a tombstone?
The Eagle has landed

scripted and announced
in a soundstage in L.A.

Osama Bin Laden and George
Bush reminders that Elmer Fudd

hated Bugs Bunny, or how Wile. E
in pursuit of Roadrunner faltered

while an Acme weight fell so slowly
on our heads

while inside an unabandoned house
in New Orleans a man believed

it was only the weather -
a hurricane never lies.

Jeremiah Johnson made his way into the mountains
Bettin' on forgettin' all the troubles that he knew
The trail was wide and narrow
And the eagle or the sparrow
Showed the path he was to follow as they flew.
A mountain man's a lonely man
And he leaves a life behind
It ought to have been different, but oftimes you will find,
That the story doesn't always go that way you had in mind.
Jeremiah's story was that kind. . .
Jeremiah's story was that kind.
The way that you wander is the way that you choose,
The day that you tarry is the day that you lose.
Sunshine or thunder, a man will always wonder.
Where the fair wind blows.
An Indian says you search in vain for what you cannot find.
He says you'll find a thousand ways for runnin' down your time.
An Indian didn't scream it, he said it in a song,
And he's never been known to be wrong.
He's never been known to be wrong.