Friday, November 30, 2007


1965—Tonka truck red
plows through dirt mud
sand and rock
while Barbie justle-bounces Ken
in the bed.

Today—Ford F-150 speeds on
set cruise control on superhighway
while she adjusts the mirror
and Blackberries him.


Thursday, November 29, 2007


When I poured out our juice this morning
there were the same old faded
streaks of color
and flecks of paint on our
jelly jar glasses
that I don’t notice every day.

Years ago these were brilliant
cartoon illustrations
shot through with sunlight at
the breakfast table,
more vibrant than TV;
now dulled beyond recognition
after a generation of dishwasher

But you still knew mine
was Winnie the Pooh chasing
butterflies, and yours
was Tigger bouncing.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007


pacing marking time
across the room
and back again
wringing hands while
striding from now to now
to the impossible future
the calendar dates fall
with the clock swing
the sun up and down
but I’m in the same room
back and forth pacing
the future so far–
is here

Tuesday, November 27, 2007


Flickering streetlamps
that November evening chilly
dim brown
then darker still
in the parking lot
of the motel we call home,
we stop our racing game with the ball
and find Mother
in the kitchenette
with one burner cooling
the muddy light overhead
and the big room with the beds
and cots strangely rumpled
after that quick
cross-country trip
darkens with each thump of
our hearts
and we blink into black as
the grid tumbles
relay by relay
town by city by town
joining the millions of star-lost;
we hold our ball
and our words while
Mother finds a candle
a transistor radio
and the soup sits cooling fast.

Monday, November 26, 2007


Tree cut and split
ready to burn
but obstinate
and standing wounded so for years
the mighty oak
finally yields
now tumbles earthbound
in woodstove pieces slow autumn leaf like
there’s no place to hide
from the crashing free fall
despite all that time gone to run
no escape now possible
it’s inevitable
what the saw of years has done.