with just seven words
you’ve taken away thousands
our picture no more
A Thousand Words
with just seven words
you’ve taken away thousands
our picture no more
choices
You Are Unforgiven
i told him
FROM NOW ON
i’m writing in extended metaphors
then no one can get pissed
feel left out
never forgive my words
YOU ARE UNFORGIVEN
don’t quote your
classroom time
don’t try to be
the person you are not
the teacher
you are not
it would take
less than one day
less than one hour
to step into that classroom
and see the deepest connection
to students
that you will ever witness
it would take
ten minutes
sticks in hand
plethora of patience
resting on lips
less than the time it takes
for you to compose
the first draft
of your horrific email
I WILL NOT WRITE IN METAPHORS
because you need to hear
that the teachers you claim to support
are fleeing like migrating birds
and soon you will be
in the midst of mediocrity
go ahead
tweet your latest
run out teachers
who know better than you
how to form
the society
you claim to adhere to
Sailor’s Delight
i know the old phrase that brings down the sea
each dawn my mind sees the words cross the sky
it haunts the sailors but doesn’t haunt me
the beauty of dawn is what i live by
it shares, red sky at night, sailors’ delight
though surely the pink Pike’s Peak wasn’t viewed
on each red morning with pink clouds so bright
i can feel my whole soul being renewed
it warns, red sky at morning, sailors give warning
missing the mountain peaks’ glorious blue
pink skies at night bring nothing but mourning
to craved-strength muscles that ache to break through
i hear old phrases with opposite terms
as i cycle my way to a new day
what’s beauty to me, to you is just worms
so i’ll take my colors and sail my way
Crossroads
every morning
as i come to my crossroads
just after dawn
touches her fingers to sky,
i make my decision–
an uphill battle
breaking my muscles,
the wind of the highlands
an ever-greater challenge
than the meandering creek
i pedal for simple sights:
the middle-aged blonde
with two matching goldens,
(sometimes leashed, sometimes free)
the bright yellow spot
of a SmartCar, and me
always wondering just where
on the curvacious beauty of
a road i will pass it,
the ever-silent deer
who peer intently at my machine
as they stand cautiously
at the edge of civilization.
and today? a gift,
the top of the most tenuous climb,
the wind bending back leaves
and straightening out flags,
pushing against my will,
when what should cross the road
but a lone pronghorn,
its native spirit leaping
over barbed wire and into
the chaparral, leaving me to
finish my ride, open up
a starvation-induced chocolate
whose wrapper reads,
You are exactly where
you’re supposed to be
(i don’t throw it away,
its aluminum words
imprinted on the crossroads
that may lead me elsewhere tomorrow)
Tree
in one week my life
will sprout a new leaf–
i hope to know
just where the wind will take me
as i add another ring
to my tree
will i blow to the east
and the sun that rises
so coldly each morning,
or stay west
where my roots are buried
as deep as my soul?
i wish i could see
the color of the bud
as it blossoms from my branches,
but only time will tell
just which way the wind will blow
Spain Haiku
anticipation
disturbs every thought in mind
waiting for our fate
If I Were to Make You Mine
i know you had it in you this morning,
the urge to pull me close,
to wrap me in your warmth.
i know it was there between each of us.
could i have spared more time?
could i have cut back
on the hills hovering before me?
sometimes i wonder about the miles
that lie between here and there:
how tightly knit they appear,
how curvacious and beautiful they can be
and if i were to make you mine,
would i have seen the shrinking moon,
would i have made all the green lights
that graciously gave me my record time?
would i have been the same person,
giving in to one moment over another?
these small decisions
made before dawn
are the ones that haunt us in the end
Golden Dream
a three thousand pound weight,
sacks of gold too heavy to lift.
if i could fill them with feathers
and build myself a pair of wings?
i would fly right into the sky
and release myself from monetary need
instead i face a financial dilemma–
drop the gold i can’t quite carry
into the gaping hole of a beast
who will swallow it whole and us too,
leaving behind nothing but wisps
lighter than feathers, unable to fly?
or hold fast to a dream that flies
into every moment of my sleeping wake,
forget the beasts that bear down on me,
and throw my sacks of gold into the sea
as i fly my way to a tomorrow that
i have waited for years to belong to me?
Electrified Files
outspoken as always
he asks why i smile
she loves watching us work,
his classmate chimes in
(all teachers live for torture)
he has caught me in a moment
(one of many on this first day back)
where my available memory sits
on the forefront of my monitor
(the smile will never be far
from lips that can’t hide happiness)
(i will never tell him
i will tell almost no one)
the images i tuck in electrified files
at the base of my hard drive
ready to upload
a screensaver’s pleasure
at the smiling touch of a keyboard
Across the Ice
i don’t fit in here,
this suburban-sports-mom place–
ice skates and hockey pucks,
wealth dripping from
concession-stand ketchup
onto Gucci bags,
iPhones snapping
pictures of perfection
(pictures i will never take)
she wants to be a part of it all,
not for one second
jaded by the disorganization,
the preferred treatment of boys,
the simplicity of the lesson
she’s too skilled for and
that costs as much as i make in a day
i want to give it to her
and take her home
all in the same moment,
to tell her she won’t lose her childhood
if she spends her afternoons
playing in the cul-de-sac
with the homeschooled,
underexposed neighbors
but her eyes?
her weeks of anticipation?
i can’t take back this gift,
this inherent joy
that will carry her across the ice
and into her miniature version
of the dream
we all have inside ourselves
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