Save the last dance for me.

Dancing in the sand,
we leave an ephemeral trace;
then the wind blows our footprints away,
as if we never came to this place.

But those with whom we danced
will never forget their delight,
and when the day is ended,
will dance away the night.

On MYKU World

for volchin & his friends

True in what I write to you
despite distractions in the night,
the fears that rise behind my eyes,

I love to read your words,
surprising me with joy of life,
confronting all the world's confounding strife


Alone in the dark
I look down on a burning planet.
Points of light that horrify a mind inclined to feel,

that now must reel to see
destruction fueled by power
better meant to build and grow

(earth at night)

But what do any of us know
when faced with this great age,
when human minds reshape the Earth

and space itself is bent to show us scenes
before our birth
beyond our death
beyond our depth.

Our refuge lies
within the eyes
of each we meet,

friend,
or stranger on the street:

as Auden cried,
We must love one another or die.

Modern Love

Nellmezzo

There is a distance which I cannot reach across.
Your words reach me distorted by time
and shapes and garments,
the Palestinian breeze,
have more meaning that the careening
words that crash on Galilee's shore: What did he mean by that?

Why did he choose those words?
that ring so harshly in a cooler clime,
past millennia of time,
as if they could not have changed their meaning
by the time they reach me?

On this distant shore, undreamt by those more present,
only the sense remains; assumptions washed away
by the moving time,
just the bare words remain,
and some of them misleading.

And yet that sense seems to contain
seamless robes, the glance of a dark eye,
a supple body moving down a road with
one backward glance that is made just for me:

As if you had the time and strength to turn back once each millennium
for each of the creatures that follow you, gasping –
and yet they say you do,
and I seem to see you down that road,
turning once for me, and I am not so great a fool
that I would not say "Yes," and grab for your hand once
and never let go.

Urban Poet

There is no time or distance between us and what we love
whose every true expression is the same below among us as above

Whatever we remember of those days in Galilee is constantly repeated
which is why we still are free: select your path and choose your faith, or not

But God will still be waiting at the end
to laugh at us whatever we pretend
as if we couldn't know He always was our friend.

* ****** **** ****** *

It isn't always easy to be living in two worlds

To watch the groundhogs chewing on the grass
and doves aloft, wings flickering as they pass

We battle petty sins for the sake of truth and money
and forget the six days of the week are the same as every Sunday

To intermix the sacred and profane
to raise ourselves up instead of casting blame

You never have to drop it all to run and clasp His hand
just wave hello as He walks by each day. He'll understand.

whimpering softly

softly the old wolf whimpers as he dreams
vaguely remembering hunting long ago
racing over hillsides, splashing through the streams
running in the rain, plunging into snow

seizing prey in triumph as he hears their screams
never fighting nature, going with the flow

life no longer what it was, nothing left but dreams.

Woodland Lake

the sky above
the trees below
the lake before them all

ignore the cars on roads just out of sight
and all this looks like earth before the fall

with grace the waterbirds arrive as fleets of them deploy to feed
ducks dabble as swans cruise by and geese glide beside every reed

Double Dactyls

Higgledy-piggledy,
palaeontology
studies the ancient life
science has found.

Nothing they find for us
most unsurprisingly,
still lives and breathes, because
it's underground.

* ****** **** ****** *

Higgledy-piggledy,
parasaurolophus
carried a slide trombone
up on his head.

I would invite him to
play on it now for you
but the poor dino is
so very dead.

After hours

After hours,
close the store,
kill the lights,
lock the door.

The walls and floors all come alive
as mice and rats and roaches thrive,
hunting for a midnight snack,
knowing no one's coming back.

Running over shelf and table,
as only tiny feet are able,
sink and counter marked with tracks
as they leap from bakery racks.

In the morning, not a trace
of vermin all around the place.

The sun will also rise

The sun will also rise
If we're not here to see it;
What's precious in our eyes
Is not what makes it be it.

Solipsist introversion
Is sophistry most cruel,
Unnatural perversion
Of nature's Golden Rule:

We must cooperate, and compete,
Take what we need, and share;
And if we take more than we need,
When we need it, it won't be there.

Thanksgiving

A day for giving thanks,
And eating too much food;
America the bountiful,
from origins so rude,
Has grown to be so powerful,
Our children's toys are banks.

But we here will remember this,
As long as time remains,
Our families around us,
And all our rightful gains:
Feel sorry for the other folk,
Who think prosperity is just a joke.

Not for earth-shaking wars
Or satellites the globe around,
Our power's formed for only this:
My daughter's cheerful, loving kiss.

Taps

Limping slowly into winter,
Stumbling in the cold and dark,
As the evening breezes freeze me,
Walking through the park at night;

I wonder how to reach the end
Of the road I walk in pain,
While the world whirls round beside me,
Like a fickle, flighty friend.

Leaning on my sole support,
Clicking slowly as we wander
Far from warmth and cheerful faces,
Cane-tip tapping, tapping on the ground.

Snow Showers

Silver dust swirling in a crystal breeze,
Myriad motes descending from the sky,
Framing streetlights, an ever-changing frieze;
They chill the air, cover the ground, and I
Stand silent in the crisp cold haze, transfixed:
Adult, or child I was, emotions mixed.

Midtown Recital

The synchronized traffic light, as we turn to the right,
Keeps us from running down folks all over town.

As the bus stops to pick up some more,
A shabby old bum stands in the door.
He smells and he yells, and he keeps us from moving.
He's got an idea that he thinks he is proving.

We sit and we listen and soon he steps down;
He mumbles and stumbles, and leaves with a frown.
It's hard to imagine he meant what he said;
He probably wanted some change, to get fed.

He put on quite a show as he stood and recited;
Though his poetry thundered, his performance was slighted.