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A Walk in Memorial Park 2000

 In the arms of a young pine tree

a redbird, a squirrel and me

all arrive suddenly

as if we’d had our eye on the exact same spot at the exact same moment.

 The bird lands instead on a tendril arm,

And the squirrel clings to a tree trunk waist with a peanut in his mouth, while I stand on the sidewalk within two arms reach of them both.

 They eye one another then look at me

and we gaze at each other silently,

unsure perhaps of who should yield the shade of a young pine tree. 

 

Bike Ride on the Fourth of July 2000

 Green explodes from the ground, still wet from heavy rains

Monster Trees billow and white clouds boil in the blue summer sky.

Little white clover sprinkles the grass like so many stars.

The moisture from the earth and the heat of the sun on asphalt turn the whole world into a sauna for tight, stiff muscles unused to exercise. 

 

Bike Ride Past Bean Fields at Dusk

Come ride with me 'neath fading skies,

past floating fields of fire flies

Like champagne bubbles, they burst and rise,

and steal the star light from the skies.

Now here, now gone, the summer flies,

and fades to autumn before our eyes

So come ride with me in the pale moonrise,

past floating fields of fire flies.

 

April

Feathered chatter greets the day,

Winter's silence melts away,

Frozen earth warms to the sun

and all at once turns green and young.

Opened Window bids me say,

"Winter's business put away,"

April calls, "Come out and play!"

 

May and June

In May and June when the flowers bloom,

and the air is filled with a sweet perfume,

and the petals blow like the drifting snow,

then the neighbors forget their winter woe

and greet one another on a sunset stroll.

They closed off part of the sky

 They closed off part of the sky today. At the end of a long tunnel, past the vast walls of corn, across US 52, the tree line leads your eye to a farmhouse on a hill. The clouds reach down to touch it and fertile fields stretch away on all sides. Or used to.

 At first they erected a red metal frame – a giant skeleton that carved the sky into assorted bright blue Mondrian pieces.

 But now there’s only a piece of beige sheet metal where the sky used to be.

 

The Race

The sun skims the tasseled corn, and bicycle wheels whiz over sun-bathed pavement in a race to see who will get home before dark.

22 mile Bike Ride along the Wabash River on the Fourth of July, 2001

Comes a cooling breeze through the tunneled trees

And I lean to the south and take my ease

Under open skies the heat bears in

And I long for the shaded trees again.

 

Backyard Lullabye

Crescent Cradle, Midnight Moon,

Slowly sink 'neath Dipper's Spoon.

on Pine Tree Branches gently borne,

Till You journey on toward morn.

Walking by the Grad Buildings 2000

 The sun beats down on a vast, asphalt space walled in by  concrete, glass, and steel, fringed in green and tipped in blue.

 

Fireworks 2001

Tiger Lilies shooting through the air on long, slender stems,

and exploding into orange, and red, and yellow petals

are Nature's Fireworks.

October Drive

As I drive home one late October afternoon, it looks like someone has dipped their brush in the colors of the sunset and painted the trees red and gold …

like someone has taken a wooden spoon to summer’s billowing cauldron skies, and stirred and stirred the clouds around until there remained only ripples and swirls in a gray- blue brew …

a white wisp here, a meringue puff there ....

From behind closed windows that shut out the chill air, I watch the lengthening shadows reach across freshly disturbed earth.

Gone are summer’s walls of corn and a vast orange moon rises on the horizon …

I turn on my radio and let the music sing me a lullaby as the world turns toward a long winter’s night.

Hazelhound

 Hazelhound, Hazelhound treed my cat. I said, "Hazelhound don’t do that."

 Hazelhound, Hazelhound took my shoe. I said, " Hazelhound that won’t do!"

 Bud say, "Hiss!" And Bud say, "Foo!" But Hazelhound she say, "Boo Woo WOO!"

Kitty Bud

 Arch be fat, Arch be round. Arch don’t know ‘bout Hazelhound.

Kitty Arch

 Sky go boom, Rain come down! Hazelhound she run round and round.

 Bud say, "Hazelhound, Foo, Foo, Foo!" But Hazelhound do what a hound doggie do!

Hazelhound, Hazelhound chased a skunk! When she got home she got a dunk!

Fuss little Groundhog in my tree, "Hazelhound, she won't let me be!"

Treed Groundhog

In pine tree branch hangs a crescent moon, and Hazelhound bays a midnight tune.

Hazelhound

The New Wasteland

Cut loose to wander in the wasteland

a stranger to this present clime

Searching for a way back

home to a better time

Just got back from the funeral

where I laid my dreams to rest

mere ideal notions of existence –

it’s prob’ly for the best.

Cause’everybody’s standing in line

it seems

for their cardboard copies of the American Dream.

But I sent mine

to greener pastures

where I set them free

within the Places in the Heart

where you and me can be.

Away from fractured freedoms

and disconnected lives,

these broken strands of promises

that begged to be retied.

Raised by Mother's nurturing hand

then slapped down by the Taliban

(and I'm not even from Afghanistan!)

just as I reached my prime.

They cut me off and threw me out

Hoped I'd wither off the vine.

Knocked me all

the way back to high school

to a world sometimes so small

it's a wonder anybody

could find room to breath at all

And tho I clung to hard found freedom

upon which I'd grown and thrived

and I fought like something cornered

til my brain fell out and fried

til I shriveled up inside

til we both lay down and cried

til my bones curled up and dried

of opportunity long deprived,

No justice was in sight.

And no mercy.

Who'd have thought that Freedom was a well that could run dry -

and all the things we count on were no more than just a lie –

just depends on who you are

and I was just a fly

but I'm not the one

who had no soul,

or a cold stone who knows you

but can't say hello.

they made me want to die

Might as well not even try

when you're invisible to all eyes.

So sting I love that you are you

(and I love all you sing and do),

but who the hell am I?

But I'm moving on to greener pastures

Tho sometimes I still can't find my way

I turned the page to spring this year

away from Winter's grey.

Small hints of beginnings

appear like spring's first blooms

They linger for a moment

then disappear too soon

but maybe and just maybe

on some fine summer day

they’ll spring right back up from the ground

and they’ll take root and stay.

I honestly don’t recall what

all the fuss was about

I just pray that the rains will come

and wash away this drought.

But for now it is enough

to just get through each day

any way that I know how

with no big dreams in the way,

That's what Jimmy Buffet would say.

inspired from life and listening to sting's cd "A Brand New Day" and Jimmy Buffet's cd "Songs You Know by Heart"

and in honor of the liberation of Purdue University on August 5, 2006

I can still remember the dreams of my youth! :) Let the river run by Carly Simon, music track for Working Girl, March 2008

Last bike ride to Stockwell

It's the end of an era.

The old grocery store burned out inside

and left an empty shell

on a corner

where people liked to meet

by the pop machine to drink a treat

and rest before they went their way

to come again another day.

Stockwell Sag Stop

Dream Lover

Face to face in my dreams last night a lover did I meet. Tough and tender, accosting me, he took me hard and sweet - catching me totally by surprise, for in daylight I did not realize how this gentle unassuming man would materialize in my dreams.

Face to face at work next day, my dream lover I did meet. I smiled and looked into his eyes, my secret did I keep? With great composure he met my eyes, but his tone it teased and tantalized and I wondered did this youth surmise how last night my dreams he occupied?

I cannot tell what this all means, but what he woke up in my dreams has slept for a thousand years it seems - So tho politically impolite, meet me, Dream Lover, again tonight and let me taste your mouth on mine in my dreams.

 

Ode to SIA, Federal Mogul, and Chrysler 2005

Where the faeries play
by night, by day,
not in the meadows far away
nor by river’s stream
or enchanted glade
seeking refuge in its woodland shade
but on truck yard docks
by the old time clock
and on factory floors
through the big bay door
they race dragon flies
down the corridor
past roaming robots that never stop
tinkling on and on like a music box
and on monarch’s wings'
erratic flight,
they dance with the fork trucks
at deep midnight
while the moon outside
shines full and bright...

In car hulls suspended on pulley and chain
they ride to the rafters and down again
And down in the pits where snake arms spray
the black undercoating they sit and crochet!

And when overhead the tornado roars
and buckles in the big bay doors
like paper kites a foot or more

and through the roof the rain does pour,
they gleefully glide on the flooded floors.

And out in the lot where few men go
where the new cars sparkle row on row
and turtle doves nest under wiper blades
and a goose floats easy in a pond man-made,
t hey ride the breeze with the cottonwood trees
then re-enter the plant with intent to tease,
herding gossamer seedlings everywhere
whilst the people labor unaware
of the magic floating in the air
Until someone looks up and winks and smiles,
and leaves his work to flirt awhile.

And when the last new car rolls
off the line that day
And someone climbs in and drives it away,
On the long walk back to the plant's front door, they say, "See you tomorrow on the factory floor!"

No, not in offices sealed and tight,
devoid of air, devoid of light,
but out where you feel the heat of day,
you'd be surprised where the faeries play.

 

Looking Back

Just because the momentum's forward doesn't mean we're making progress.

Into July and Finally Steady Sunshine!.

I woke up this morning to find
sunshine pouring down like rain.
It splashed yellow and light over the trees,
covering the grass, soaking the flowers.
It flowed over the roads and sidewalks,
drenching the buildings,
and rinsing the sky
til it was perfectly blue.

The above poem was one of the selected entries in the Citibus/TAF Poetry and Art Contest - selected art and poetry entries were paired, printed, and displayed on the ciy busses

 

Long Hot Summer in Retrospect

Yesterday brought such a cooling breeze, that I laid outside underneath the trees and looked up at the sky through the rustling leaves til a single fire fly lit the night summoning another to answer his light much as the breeze's cooling call awakened thoughts of approaching fall and freedom from air conditioning for a while. Trapped in the heat, no rain in sight, til a cooling breeze runs through the night, yet how quickly do the seasons pass calling us to enjoy them while they last.

Midwest Spring 2004

Alas a poor man's pleasure

depends upon the weather

The months of April, May, and June

arrive too late and leave too soon

and rare's the perfect summer day

that Mother Nature sends our way,

leaving us to look toward fall

to grant us respite from it all,

all her extremes and excesses

which she ever with us blesses.

 

Lament Over a Long, Cool, Cloudy Summer

Did I dream those summers of yesteryear

when the sun was out and the sky was clear

and butterflies fluttered from flower to flower

as the locust song whiled away each hour

and the grey heron in the pond did wade

while the baby toads hid in the garden shade

when each day Paradise did mirror

O did I dream of yesteryear or was it really here?

 

At the end of the rainy, cool summer

there we sat on the front porch one evening in late august

lapping up each last drop of sunshine like

we were barn cats with a bowl of cream ...

 

Transformation …

As if to defy this midnight hour,

the trees all color their hair.

At first their green roots

show through

as they tip their tresses

into buckets of blond gold

and carrot top orange,

and blazing reds,

and peaches, and plums,

but eventually the transformation

is complete.

As the late evening

and early morning rays

tickle and tease their highlights

they shimmer in the breeze,

kicking up the volume,

and going winesap wild

against the relentless,

blue October sky,

fighting it the whole way,

this inevitable journey

towards becoming

balding dishwater blondes and

mousy brown brunettes.

And when the hard rains come

and the cold winds blow,

the trees toss their tresses

till their roots show dark once more.

Then they finally settle down,

sedate frosted skeletons

delicately lacing the pale winter sky.

 

A long dry summer

The land lays parched and dry
beneath the cloudless sky
of August and July,
"How long wilt Thou deny?
O, refreshing rains supply!"
Thy things with wings,
Thy things with roots,
Thy things with legs
all sigh.

Wooster Boy

I has a little wooster boy
he's cute as he can be
When I goes out each day to play
he comes be's friends with me.

He flaps his wings and tries to crow
but he still needs some time to grow
So he runs and hides from those big ol' hens
but he comes back out every now and then.

He scratches 'round to inspect the ground,
and pecks the wall with glee.
He says, "Thank you, Mr. Spider,
for trapping all those bugs for me."

When I carries out my blue scrap bowl
filled with yummies, wide and deep,
then Wooster hops inside it
and commences right to eat
before I even sets it
on the ground down at his feet!

He climbs on my head
to reach the top
of the coup to survey
what he's got.
He struts around
with his wings swept down
and back like a cloak majestic
with purple hues
he tall and proud
awaits the day
he'll crow out loud
a rooster now domestic

Cock-a-doodle-Doo!

And sometimes if I sit quietly where
he can reach with his beak
to comb through my hair

to perchance trap a bug that he might find in there -

Wait a minute.

A bug in my hair?

EEEEEEwwwwwww! EEEEEEeeeeeek!


And the mules they comes and looks and sees
This little newcomer and his henny pennies.
while Hazelhound bays and sniffs and fusses,
And Butterball stares and purrs and watches,
Yes, we’re one big happy family –
as long as we’re all cautious.

 
 

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