Music Box Dancer

For ev'ryone when first conceived
Inside the womb they each received

A tool of brass; a tiny key.

These keys were wrought for one design-
That when a man's heart so inclined
Him toward a happy thing he found,
He needn't leave it to the ground.

But rather place the key inside,
Turning-making fully-wound
Himself.

Whereupon wound, he might then dance,
And sing and laugh and cry and prance
And put on such a marvelous show
That all would see his face! Not know
That deep inside his heart, the springs
Were slowly winding down.

Spring

Stride out to open places
snowy ground warmed by the sun.
Throw wide the heavy curtain!
Release the captives-Spring is come.

Comes the Light

I went room to room
with a torch.

Not for light.

Not for light, but
for burning.

I burned all the curtains.

The End

I swore that it would never be
again,
the thoughts, the cares, the
lack-there-of,
all piled high in sleepy burdened blossoms,
nightshade
And thousands of bodies.

And when I awoke,
Strewn about in bags the parts
of all the mother's sons I'd died awaking...
And I clung to the windshield, clung to life.

But if this is the end,
I would make such an end,
as not like the tow, ember glowing,
but as a rage,
a furnace,
a city on a hill.

Try

It is hard to imagine going on living

if I mean nothing to everyone

I want to mean something to-

But I must try.

Winter Haikus

Stupid truck won't start.
I hate you, stupid old truck.
Stupid stupid truck.

Now I'm at Starbucks.
I think Audrey Hepburn's here.
Or her look-a-like.

I hate everyone.
Everyone who's car started.
Look at them driving.

Just drink your Mocha,
I say to my cranky self.
You still have your health.

Break

I have to hope
That when I finally break,
It will be as an egg.
New life will emerge,
and be satisfied.