Many Roads

After 58 years in
school in various capacities,
I now face multiple possibilites,

all entrenched with considerations
and expectations.
I wonder if we do make choices

or if we are simply led my our
spirit guide who so lovingly
lets us believe we make

conscious choices about
such important dilemmas.
Unfortunately, I'm not sure.

Our ability to
change the course of history
is more limited than we would like to believe.

Crud and hugs

Crud. Freud said
that we leave something behind
because we want to go back.

Well, today was my last day.
Or so I thought. I'd emptied
everything out,

and then sat down at home
in the easy chair,
and put my feet up,

and crud,
I remembered
I had forgotten to empty one drawer

of some personal stuff.
Will have to go back
tomorrow. Double crud.

But the nice thing about leaving
is that everyone says goodbye,
and everyone hugs you,

not just with those
partial hugs where you
hardly connect, but real

bear hugs, where you
wonder if they'll
ever let go

and even a woman who usually wears
a pretty official exterior
was so nice as to smile

and then to throw a couple
of kisses.
What a day!

Social Occasions

As I move from one world
to another,
I notice

that I'm going to
have to interact more
with strangers

than I did in my
old world.
It feels awkward

to meet new
people who do something
different with their lives

and whom I don't know you.
So I grasp at straws
trying to find something

in common.
Very strange, indeed.
Almost like the dating game!

Baseball Card

When I was a kid, I bought
a box of baseball cards.
There must have been

a hundred packages of cards,
or so it seemed,
at the time.

I separated the bubble gum
from the cards,
and put the whole box

on a metal shelf in
our warm
summer kitchen.

All the bubble gum
melted together
and I learned

another life lesson,
as I do
every day of my life.

Back then,
we all dreamt
of being on a card

of our own.
Little did we know
that it was as simple

as having
a little imagination
and a lot of inspiration.

Obnoxious

There is something obnoxious
when you use all the crayons
in the box.

Maybe it is crass
to show off so much
wealth,

or perhaps
it is the
lack of restraint.

Is sophistication
about painting an all black
canvas? Do our

eyes (or brain)
shun sensory
overload

and blaring
loud
music?

Two Questions

Why is it
that you can be so close
to having things

the way you want them,
and then you knock over
a ceramic artifact

and it shatters,
or you cut your hand
with a rough fingernail,

or you get intangled
with the mess-ups
of banks and insurance

companies? Or all three?
Where does the
happiness go when

she is so deftly
replaced with one
screw-up after another?

Concentricity

When I was seventeen
I started painting concentric bands,
hoping always to let

every color and thought show
through, both because
they had "currency" (to me)

since they were once part
of the picture,
and also because

I never wanted to
throw anything away

(especially a color).
Now,
forty-four years later,

I return,
using a
different media,

but the same concept.
The picture becomes more
decorative as well,

giving (me) a feeling of a
Persian miniature
or rug.

My Friend and the Naked Nymph

When my friend went to the
rest room at the Thai restaurant,
I decided to start today's drawing.

Not knowing what to draw,
a bottle of red pepper sauce
caught my eye.

Then
"in my wildest dreams"
a naked nymph

came to the table
to test the sauce
with her finger.

Satisfied,
she quickly departed,
and my friend returned.

It is Sad

Yes, it is sad
that it is hard
to change things.

Sometimes we are out
in a desert and our
axle binds up and

we can't move and
there is no help
available, and

we know that
with just a little
shift all would be well,

but it isn't happening,
so we stand there,
helpless and alone

with our arms up in the air
waiting for a wisp
of fresh air.

What is this?

The Buddhist wondered
"what is this" for ninety days,
and then discovered that

time goes very fast,
and suffering is
just a point of view.

Relieved not to be a Mouse

We all had nicknames
in grade school.
I suppose it was

a rite of passage.
I'm not sure
I remember

anyone else's,
but mine
was certainly

etched in everyone's
vocabulary,
as well as in mine.

"Mouse"
they called me, partly
because my ears stuck

straight out,
and partly
because I was so short,

and then partly
because it kind of
alliterated,

if that's a word, with
my last name,
"Mosley."

The Little Prince

He stood on the
foreign world
for a long time.

It was a place
that was not his,
and one day,

when he went to leave,
he discovered
that he had merged

with that strange planet,
casting doubts
on any hope

that he
could now leave
in one piece

to go off
to his peaceful
kingdom.

Popcorn

Many evenings
the wife and I
watch television and eat popcorn.

It sounds a little decadent,
like we are couch potatoes,
but to the contrary,

we neither watch TV
nor eat popcorn.
She works on jewelry

and I make a drawing.
Sometimes one of us
makes popcorn, but

that is mainly for
the dogs, who consider
it quite a treat

from their monotone color
and taste
daily meal.

The TV is on, but
neither of us can
afford to watch it

because she might
drop a stitch (she
weaves copper wire)

and I might screw
up my drawing.
Here,

Zoe is waiting to
see if this is going
to be a popcorn night.

She had a long day
chasing rabbits,
and would rather

be off snoring in a
dark corner of the
dining room if

the popcorn
is not going to
make an appearance.

Symbiotic Relationship

Crossing a street
many years ago
I told my son

to look both ways
before he crossed.
"What," he said,

"should I do
if a car
is coming?"

Now I have
a better idea,
some would call it

a two headed person,
but I'm happy calling it
a symbiotic joining,

so each is looking
out for the other
to preserve the whole.

Now we are looking for that
specialty clothes store
so we can come out of the closet.

Dr. Stout and Dr. Pavlov

Today we went to
the vet,
the dog and I.

It used to be once
a year,
but now that she's older,

it is twice
a year unless
we have some issue,

which deserves
a special visit.
My dog started sniffing

every inch of the office,
and then started
profusely salivating,

as if Dr. Pavlov
had suddenly rung a bell,
and the food would soon

be coming.
Then Dr. Stout
came into the examination

room,
and listened to
her heart,

and then gave her
an array of shots,
at which point

he commented
on the salivation,
which he said to watch

when we got home.
Later that evening
I made some popcorn,

and,
low and behold,
the salivation reappeared.

Pavlov lives,
may he
R.I.P.

Science and God

Some say that science
is the answer,
that it tells us

where things came from,
why things work,
and when they will

change into something else.
Others say God is the
supreme being.

Still others are not
so sure, and remember
that science gave us

the atomic bomb,
while God gave us
a world with one

disaster after another.
God tests, some say, and
other insist that he

works in mysterious ways.
Art, for me, grasps
the wonders of the universe

in a much more
comprehensive manner,
understanding that the

whole is a more holistic
and beautiful
methodology.

Postmodernism at the Eye Doctor

We were both waiting
for the eye doctor,
she reading a book,

and me
drawing a picture
of her

reading a book.
She seemed to be reading
a book that she never

wanted to be over,
like some people
live their lives.

I watched her
out of the corner
of my eye

read the last
page over
and over,

as if she could
prolong
or

change the
ending
the next time around.

Who'd like to Step on two Faces?

I thought I'd make
a carpet, so I took
two lovers

and put them
smack bang
in the middle

of a pattern.
When I showed it
to my friend

she said,
"who'd like to step
on two faces."

Honesty sucks
at ll:30 pm.
Wouldn't it be nicer

to have someone
just give compliments,
or would it?

Wise Dog

I'm not sure why
they say
that the dog

is man's best friend,
or visa versa.
Is it because

men don't
have any other friends,
or is it

just that they're
so darn smart?
I envy my dogs

sleeping
all day, and also
how their ambition

is limited to chasing
rabbits
around the yard.

What would
I have to do to be
reincarnated into a dog?

Perhaps something really dumb
like selling Mary Kay
door-to-door for twenty years.

Confusion

We rush around,
looking for peace
here

and peace there,
yet sometimes
peace is (about)

being still,
looking at us,
as we look

into a mirror
at ourselves
looking back at us,

ad infinitum
laughing and crying
at the same time,

for a brief moment,
when
hit by a speeding car,

or a high temperature illness,
we, seemingly
for an instant,

recognize
that for once
we have touched

a slower and deeper
consciousness
of our universe.

Dad

After a complete life,
he happily laid his head
on a pillow,

listening to the waves
from the ocean,
and yearning

to meet his
soul mate
in the next universe.

Cleaning for the Party

When you haven't
given a party for awhile
you forget to clean your house.

Mess that you can easily live with
you wouldn't want
anyone else to see.

Afterwards it doesn't
look as bad
than before the party began.

Yes, things are in disarray,
but underneath, you believe
there is a thin layer of order.

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.