Little House

Sometimes we get
a little house,
where you don't get tired

moving from the front door
to the back door.
Hell, you don't even

have a chance to pick
up speed as you get
up from your couch

to go to the kitchen
to get a snack.
Your TV remote works

anywhere in the house.
Cleaning is easy,
because you just

have to wipe off
one table and turn
on the vacuum for

a small nanosecond.
You better hope that
you like your visitors

because you won't
have much opp.
to hide from them.

You shouldn't have
much trouble finding
your lost possessions,

for you'll just
have to stand
on a toe

like a ballerina
and spin
around once.

Rows

Rows,
rows,
everywhere.

Grocery, Walmart, and
Excel
spread sheets.

Farmers plant in rows
and killers wait on
death row.

Some
even build houses
in rows, so

our cars have streets
to get
from place to place.

When we have
too many rows,
a tornado or

earthquake comes
and returns Earth to
its natural order.

Line in the Sand

We draw a line
in the sand
when we won't go

any further toward
acknowledging someone else's
perspective or needs.

We say we've reached our limit,
but really
we mean that preserving

our stuff is
more important
than is connecting with another.

On the other hand,
the wisest is the sand herself,
who sleepishly lays down

all day long,
and connects all
the grains on

one side of the
line
with the other.

Too Tired

Eighteen minutes until midnight
and too tired to write a
poem tonight.

I won't tell about having
my teeth cleaned today,
or about the Thai salad

for lunch that had much too
much garlic, or the shoe
store that wanted $20

to shine my shoes, or
$3.50 for a pair of
shoe laces,

or even the crazy people
at work who did this
or that,

not to mention the wonderful
celebration tonight
and gifts of glass

and a neat book
about how everything
works. No, I'll

leave all that for
another day, when
there is more time

to hone and nurture
or nurture and hone
all these words into

clever
thoughtless
flowers.

Big Man, Little Man

We come
in different sizes,
and different shapes.

Some of us are (relative) giants,
and others midgets,
or drawfs.

The little ones
lead lives of quiet
intimidation,

while the big ones
believe they rule
the Earth.

I understand that
in China they get
painful operations

to add a few inches
here and there.
Does the pain

of being short
surpass the pain
of such an alteration?

Wipe your feet, please!

Sometimes they want to walk all over you,
not for any
special malice,

but because they
either don't know
where their boundaries are,

or what is the difference
between a face
and the ground.

Hopefully, in time,
they will become wise,
or at least you,

on the ground,
will get up and
stop being a carpet

for those sorrowful ones,
needing an available spot
to wipe their feet.

Liquid

We are land creatures,
but envious of
birds and fish,

who move through their
domains effortlessly,
(or so it seems).

We rarely return
to that primordial state
when, in our mother's womb,

we floated in the
amniotic liquid
like there was no tomorrow.

Yet, in these moments of fear
and passion we can no
longer look at our

ourselves but rather
become immeshed in the
event itself,

only, upon recovery,
to be reminded
that we are mortal and conscious.

Light at the End

As I get closer
to the end
of the tunnel,

I'm blinded
by a bright light,
as intense

as the full moon
against the darkest
of clouds.

I wonder
if the new
landscape

will be as
rich as the last,
and question if

my new life
will approach
(in any ways)

the beauty
of what
I have left behind.

A Challenge

He told me that
he liked my profiles
better than my frontals,

to which I replied,
guess I'll have to
do more frontals.

Then he wanted to see
if I could do a dog
"face-on."

I described that
I'd do the nose with
concentric circles

and he said
it wouldn't
work.

"Maybe, someday,
I'd give it a try,"
I thought.

My son believed
that he got stronger
carrying a heavy bat.

We push ourselves,
even when "good enough"
is ok, just because...

Buyer's Remorse

Should I or shouldn't I?
it is all so simple
in the midst of passion.

Then, later, I turn it
over in my head,
over and over again,

wondering if I
should have paid less,
or picked a different

specimen, with
rationalizations
battling with realizations

until finally something
else comes along
to occupy my cluttered mind.

Numbers

The exasperation of numbers,
showing one side,
and a moment later, another.

There are always multiple
convenient
truths

depending on one's persuasion.
Years ago I read,
How to Lie with Statistics,

yet, I'm still often persuaded
by one strong argument

while another sits
so quietly
on the sidelines,

waiting to come out
just at the right time
to embarrass and harass.

Home Again

"So, are you going
to travel when
you retire?" they ask.

I feel like a lump
when I tell them
how much I like it at home.

I keep trying
to travel,
and keep appreciating

more and more
just being home,
and traveling

in my mind,
and not,
in my body.

Interest

It is hard to know
how interest rates,
and interest of the more curious sort

are related.
The curious interest
lets us know

that we are still alive,
while the other interest,
as in rates,

let's one person help another.
One could say
that both the

money lender
and lendee gain
from the transaction,

though the lendee
appears to be in debt
for most

of their life,
while the lender
goes home each day

with a wallet
that grows a bigger
and bigger pot belly.

Yikes!

Making a big decision
is always
scary,

though
I've done
a number of them.

I feel like I'm on
a high diving board,
and at the point

of no return where
my feet have left the board
and my weight is over the water,

and then I think,
oh, my god,
do I really want to do this?

Invisible Man

The man who wasn't there
posed for me
when noone else would

(because they weren't around).
He didn't like to stay still,
and finally he vanished altogether.

House Hunting

She read about one
on Speedway,
and decided

that was the
one for her,
but upon seeing it

in the flesh,
found that her heart
was elsewhere.

Still more days
to play the field,
we'll see where her

heart ends up...
though
I doubt

Speedway
is still
in the running.

Little Man, Big Man

When I was little,
I couldn't wait
until I was big,

yet I didn't
really believe it
would ever happen.

The wait seemed endless,
only to find out that
bigness wasn't especially

an age thing,
but rather
a state of mind.

If only
I had known,
I could have

flipped a switch,
and towered
over them all.

Color Again

Color again,
the sun shines,
the light at the end

of the tunnel,
he said.
The end is near,

so he reached
upward,
warming his

hands with the sun,
and wondering
what kind of

permanent damage
the rays will make
on his happy face.

Son (sic) Unworshiper

He was blinded
by the son (sic?),
so much so

that he could not
see light
from darkness.

Each day he
would hide
from him,

only to forget
by morning
his daily rebirth.

He needed him to
see his reflection
in the stream,

yet who was he
without him,
except

one
who struggled in
darkness.

Goodbye Dr. Doolittles

Since the fifth grade
I've drawn Dr. Doolittles
as if he was going

out of style,
(or whatever
the expression is.)

I thought
I should
try creating

something else
to see if it would
"come alive"

as when
Steiglitz photographed
clouds to show that

he was really good,
since he had
no hypnotic effect

on the personalities
of his
human subjects.