Light the Flame

Bernie burns his flame
using up all the last
hopes of my generation
of late 60’s all my contemporary
artists have died in January
cancer laughs as fake in its
pretense of power as Wall Street who owns it

earlier a dear friend left
suddenly then bone friend
Ellen lost her husband/father
in what seemed like days
i pray a silence of listening
nothing else makes sense

words are lame here
it’s superbly cold
nights light,,,days dark
money scarce work oppressive
we live an era of horror
disguised as prosperity

we sip our coffee for
a way to make it through
we give and give and still
they ask for more the religions
the governments the owner robber barons
give your taxes go to war tithe and volunteer

I dream of Silvana Cenci long ago
friend who sculpted with explosives
she’s looking for an old friend recognized
only by her purple hat like the part of me
who created business, taught prisoners, imported
beauty, took care of lost girls, performed poetry

where is the vision i lost in the whirl
of living went to graduate school
to accumulate huge debt and lose my
way wanted to make films a joke
even more laughable when I lived in Hollywood
my screenplay there in a long line of everyone

I think maybe we are checking out too tired
to start again, to burst through more barriers
too old to be let in anywhere we used to go
too young to die, too broke to live, too
lost to figure it out, ready to move
on but without a clue we simply die

deep in my breast i feel the war cry of
my ancestors rising, i wail, but without tears
i’m standing on the wall screaming look over here
nothing we’re seeing is real, life has love
thrives on truth and caring gives out of desire
is as abundant as a tree seeding to overcome drought

we are still here, many of us
gathering for a last push toward love
i mean toward working gentle and strong
giving what we were born to give not what
the monster tells us, we’ll make a village
small at first but viral in its power
exploding into beauty we light the flame together. Amen.


How Stuck Are You?

money is the main cause of
this prison cell we find ourselves
locked away in. few people love
their contributions and even those
who do lament that the huge system
whose rough skin we are often required
to kiss, that same leviathan eats away
our joy and causes us to miss the beauty
of life, in our children, a tree, the sky
and the cry of a bird, the still small voice
inviting freedom sometimes is made to feel like
the voice of insanity, until we loose a loved one
or find ourselves unable to give another day to despair
then sometimes the get huge cutters and sever the chains
we have carried so consistently their clanging now deafening
though before we could only hear the sound of our masters saying
buy this and be happy, sell this for me and enjoy your life, climb
over the sad body of your neighbor, shoot those who don’t look like you
only now it is clear which is the voice of the loco and which is the sound of God.


night i dreamt… a guy
letting his feet be rolled
up into a car window and
then having to have them
cut off later in the
wee hours a new dream
said, ‘you can’t be cut off
because life is eternal ala
the Long Island Medium who
gives messages from dead
loved ones because they
continue to be around and
connected, still today
i feel uneasy, like crying
i have been a dream worker
so i take time out, do
mundane chores searching
for what i’m trying to tell
myself, maybe something i
don’t want to hear here
in the isolation of Maine
where friends do not live
and freeze causes life to
take place indoors away
from the trees and wild
animals that feed my soul
i wait like a beached whale
for spring for a new year
renewal to find my way in
a world that finds me too
old to be of use and too
young to die i wait for
what i know is here dreaming



i woke early
the darkness still
deep though we have
passed the longest night

what place is this where
light comes but only after
so much absence i touch
the lips of dawn a lover here

the plants indoors hard put
to bloom with so little sun
they grow tall and green without
fruit but the trash plants grow boldly

i cut carrots and beets and celery
plant their leftovers after we eat
their core and voila! new growth
arises to feed us in the darkness of winter

our present of 9500 seeds arrived
yesterday on the eve of this new year
survival seeds it says making me wonder
about life on this planet how our thoughts compel us

will this year bring a new way of seeing a light so
bright we won’t need fosil fuels to fund our sight or
will we hide in caves and hope that the seeds of what
we knew long ago will grow without the sun our thoughts

dark and weary the sound of destruction filling our news
blindness so pervasive we don’t notice lack of eyes we lick
our wounds and hide from terror i say screw the illusion we
are living the dawning of the age of spirit and truth
let the love light beginlight-01