A Vision of Change

early evening of fall just barely
chilly night holds all that will
ever be held in place for me again
as i am splattered across the milky way i
want to sparkle like the star i traveled
here from, want to light up the night sky
with my splendid demise a small big bang a collision
of stars their substance unknown, form ever changed

at the Asian restaurant my fortune speaks
of new opportunities endings and beginnings
holding hands in their walk across the Universe
these two seeming opposites entwined in my
fragile body, or am i really a body of light
chasing again the forever donkey's carrot where
i still seek a better world a loving habitat 
stepping outside the convention where the
speaches have been the same since they were invented
traditon as boring as the old man who sits in front
of his television, his only vision as blind as 
his cultural teaching that told him he was useless

for no known reason before he opens his old scripture 
the page falls open to words so astonishing he reads on
your old men will dream dreams he remembers
something about Spirit, turns off the broken TV
and goes to sleep awaking in his dream he is surrounded
by dancing crowds dreaming his dream it's like
a vision one he had fifty years ago when his kids
were young In the morning he carries his coffee outside
looks up for the first time in years his neck stiff
and cranky and then just as the sun comes into full
view he begins to dance.

Advertisements

Crisis and Opportunity


bashed in computer
criminal intent
tears shed loss
accepted the end
of an era beginning
of a new that will not
be denied though there 
is a small group that hates

my brother sending me one of his
my son rigging the old and holding
my hand on the new venture adventure
there is a large group of lovers lurking
in all the crevases popping up to give.
a circle of need and abundance just as
the gunshooters get to the pass a time of planting
and reaping lest we forget we have been
reminded that though the dragons seem to
hold power there is only One True Source

we are leaving but not cowering we are open
armed and loving we are a small puzzle piece
to this grand plan holding hands across the cosmos
laying new tracks to point the way a trail that
always leads home ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Moving Back to Maine

guess it's time to write 
anew poem about ending
all the old life is priced
with blue painting tape tags
twenty-five cents dishes we
ate on and the pans of the wrm
way i used to cook, 2 dollars
for the sheets we used to make
love on, a dolla for the tender
mercy of our mixing bowls
nothing for the way our world
got shreaded by evil intent
but turned into new begginnings
by the One who makes all things
New