Monday, February 25, 2013

Calm (from Glen)

You tend garden in the dusk
carefully pinching back plants
with a thick thumb brown around the edges.

Light in shadow, color in bright splashes
sunflowers, asters, and coarse grasses
zinnias, blushing beauty berries
and a funny flower you call frogbelly.
Each has a feel and a face
to know and to hold in your hands.


The day's breezes fade. This kingdom is calm
with tree toads starting their song,
swifts circling above,
white evening sky
scrubbed clean with salt like a skillet.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Ruin of his Mind

Man sat sad and said "I am amid the ruin of my mind."
I balked, talked tough "pity is hard to find."
Some would starve in Pakistan,
Some dine at the Ritz;
But they'll all be sitting at each others' elbows,
They're on the final dinner list.

Man cried, said something, died;
"All was fine when we were young in 1969."
This I chided, as old men confided:
"You've been weaned off the milk of human kindness--
The days of dreams are far behind us."

Mad man's head was in a daze:
"Reality over easy on our breakfast trays
May nourish the mind,
But leaves the soul hungry.
It leaves a man angry,
A lonely dreamer left to pine

Amid the ruin of his mind."