Saturday, April 5, 2014


It's all going to 
Come back 
To bite you on the A**

Everything you write 
Everything you say -
So why 
I ask -
do we even talk 
At all 

Why don't we have the sense 
To see this coming -
And shut up 

But what fun 
Would that be ?

As a child 
With no one to talk to 
A blank piece of paper 
Was a friend -
Someone who 
Would listen to 
All my moanings 
And groanings 

Now, I have no excuse 
Other than 
Pure cussedness -

I have learned to read, 
To write 
And to think 

And someone 
( maybe Al) 
Invented the 
Internet . . .

So now we write 
For a cloud of nebulousness 
Who is it 
That's out there?

That's the interesting bit 
I have no idea 
Who's listening 
Who's reading 
 But still, 
Like eating chips,
I dip 

Into the 
Guacamole . . .

Gently Rocking Train

Just nothin' like a 
Glass of wine on a 
Gently rocking 

Pacific surf liner -
In the dark 

And you by my side -

Muted conversation
Shuffling cards -

- on the phone -

-Can't see the scary tunnel 
When it's dark outside -
Will probably hear it 
And wish 
For another glass -
Of wine 

But must maintain 
In public -

Can't be too comfortable 

Just -

On the edge of relaxing -
Thanking all the gods ---
We are not 
Driving !!!

Train and Subway to LA

Train and subway to la. 
To see a play. 
There's a time for everything
I always swore I would never go 
Beneath the streets to ride 
In the dark 
In earthquake country 
I kept my eyes closed 
The whole way. 

Relieved there was no 
On the Richter scale . . .

A Play about Mormons
In darkest Africa 
They come through my neighborhood-

But what about women ?
What about divine mother 
Don't they know her 
In her brilliant light 
What of their hearts 
And their bliss 
And the joy 
     Of the Holy Spirit 

What has that to do 
With golden plates? 
The gold would be the color 
Of the chakra that opens 
And showers us with
Droplets of