Feeling

Mr. Lowe

to a great poetic griot
who's presence was felt
who's pressence is missed
a teacher who taught 
who spoke words he meant
who's kind words meant 
more than the ink it took
to write poems and haikus
that shall forever live

Feeling

the shape of your face 
reminds me of a perfect 
mold of clay

pressed against my fingers
but it leaves a heavy ache

I try to trace the lines of 
us before they smooth away

soon it's gonnva rain and
muddy the promises we made 

we try to hold it together
regardless of the weather
forecast

our vow to make it last is
just an oath in the past

the clouds are rolling in 
turning everything gray

we're running out of road
maps to trace a perfect day

you went ahead instead but
in time I'll find the thread

to sew a perect reunion
that won't tear again 

The Lion and the Sun

Every dawn, the sky bled gold, and the king on the hill grew angry and bold. He shook his heavy mane at the rising light, screaming at morning to give back the night. He claimed the high peak as his earthen throne, ruling the grass and the shattered stone. To him, the sunrise was a challenger's face, an uninvited stranger in his sacred space. So he bared his teeth and let loose a roar, wagging a useless, prideful war. For years, the great sun simply climbed up the sky, ignoring the beast with a bright, blinding eye. It warmed the cool plains and it guided the herds, paying no mind to the predator’s words. But pride, like a weed, only deepens and grows, and the lion’s loud fury became a grand pose. He thought that the sun rose because he allowed it, that his majestic roar was the anchor that bound it. Then came the noon of the ultimate day, when the sun stopped ignoring and started to play. No wind stirred the acacia, no shadow could hide, as the heavens flung open their fur...

The Cup

they say he asked for the 
cup to pass
but I don't think he was
asking not to die
I think he held the future
in his hands
and wanted to remain
touchable by fear

we do the same in the
quiet mornings
staring into dark liquid
of another day
a hand holding fait

we hold it in wating rooms
clutching styrofoam 
in our palms watching the 
coffe go cold while the
bad news settles

the cup was never the 
problem
knowing what is in it was

but what good is a vessel
if it cannot hold what it
means to be human?
perhaps every cup we pour
is just a future asking 
to be lifted 

Away

some people go away

some people move away

some people pass away

I sometimes drift away

I can be sitting right here nodding away
at everthing you're saying

and be a thousand miles away from this
chair listening to a different 
conversation

funny thing about away

it don't always mean distance
sometime it means I'm somewhere
inside myself trying to find a way 

Forgot I Had

when I'm in my notebook
      I'm in my bag 

      pulling out stuff I forgot I had

      a backward K and question mark
      both been waiting in the dark

      some were seeds I couln't sow
      now they're things I finally know

A Little Silence

some nights I write love poems
some nights three women sing
and my heart demands one

  Ella sings about a room 
  
  a chair 
  
  in a house 
  
  that's not a home
   

  Sarah sings about what it's like
  to be strung out on love 

  
  Nina demands attention
  and lets the piano fill in the blanks 

I, Me, and Self

I says "I know me"
Me says "I don't know me"
Self says "I agree' 

The Sign

there was a school of 
   mastery

   over the doorway hung a
   sign that read

   MONK

   except the K was bacward

   a student pointed it out to
   the master teacher

   "the K is backward"

   the master teacher looked 
   at the sign and said
          

   "I Know"

   the student thought it odd
   but said no more

   days passed

   one morning while
   sweeping the courtyard
   the student accidentally
   knocked the sign from
   its hooks

   the student bent down to
   pick it up

   before putting it back

Go. Go. Go.

tick tock out of the box breaking the locks running the block you want speed I’ll give you speed no time to breathe no time to bleed no time for the things that we thought we’d need the city is a machine dumping coal in the fire higher and higher wire to wire burning up tires of the old desire spent twenty years waiting on a platform for a ghost wasting the most coast to coast toast to the host of the ultimate lie watch the days fly watch the sky die don't ask why just run outrun the sun outrun the gun outrun the done and dusty memories of everyone who told you to sit still who told you to take the pill who told you to wait for the thrill that never, ever, ever comes hear the drums that’s the pulse in the vein the nerve that complain forget the station forget the train forget the pain forget the rain we’re moving too fast for the ice to freeze ain't got no time to watch it melt on the surface feel the breeze shaking the trees till autumn leaves and winter enters like a...