Sweeping

Whsht whsht whsht

The sun kaleidoscopes the maple

into orgasmic explosion
sending life upon death

through the vacant street

in 1968, his son met jimi hendrix
in Da Nang, but
only the music returned

giving voice
to a folded flag

wushhh wuushh wushhh

lost a sister in '73 in the
damnedest wreck clay county
never did see, and

A maple leaf falls

in twist and float
but settles short of

the potter's field
where it's too sad
for red to die

Wushhh wushhh wushhh
sweeps the broom

as Tom's mail truck

rounds the corner

unnoticed

by the stillest of motion

whsht whsht whsht

Mary passed in '87 from the cancer

-brother earl, two years later

when his heart paused

a moment too long

over the snow shovel

cars pass, some wave

some stare

a few understand

and most ignore

in kindness

but it matters not to him

he who

at first light sidles down

the porch steps

clutching his purpose,

the only one he can keep alive

and the leaves fall

and the wind laughs

and the town cries

for greater recognition, but

time means nothing here

having been swallowed whole

by the seasons of his passing

and the cold hand of loneliness

so all day long he sweeps

that same God damned spot

of clean dirt

like an upside down grave

he can't gain entrance to

and the children pass

to school

and back

quiet feared and wild-eyed

while Marge Thompson

sips her coffee while

leaning to her kitchen window

remembering

to when the maple was a sapling

and hope sang harmony

over green grass seeding love

whsht whsht whsht

~rick

Snow

Oh sky of grey broken tender
Do you feel my beg?
Feast upon my longing?

Old friend, season of my song
Have we not earned each other?

Roofs are for raindrops and
Dream weaver sleep while
Fires tend the fearful's
Broken heart

But you and I, old friend
Kindle a different passage
Where loneliness makes trump
And comfort settles within

So here i am
And there you are
One losing purpose
Without the other

So hush the pines
Who baby bird-like
cry for their supper

Drift the frozen lake
That cracks in flex
Prepared for cover

The owls wait for
Your moonlight glow
And still, telling shadows

We all wait, old friend
As you ponder your mood

I am here, in the field of wait
Alone and jacketed
Longing for the cleanse
Only you, old friend,
Can offer

Hear my longing
As i walk the alone trail
I turn my eyes to you
Throw my arms wide
To your roll and dark billow
And bend the knee
In pleading obeisance

Snow, old friend
Snow

~rick

Making Do

The man at the corner
sells stolen roses
a dog may have pissed on

I bought three for you

remember the Chinese place,
where the cook smoked
to keep the flies miserable?
you kissed me first there

I sang you a song
from the balcony
of super eight
and wrote you a sonnet
when the ball game was cancelled

your mother blushes
when I kiss her hand
with twinkle and smile
while your father beams
to my adventures and travels
from his lazy recliner,
seeming quite weary of his fat ass

all in all, I've loved you well
wouldn't you say?

but if i could
love another
whose breasts stood taller and mightier
whose lips fountained red in full bloom
whose hair sailed the milky way
in fragrant mist

and if I could
win the Pulitzer
sit upon senator's thrones
win the royal cup or
save my soul
from the heart of hell
by simply throwing your mother in
my place

the man on the corner
would be one dollar poorer
and the Chinese fly factory
a table richer
while your father's fat ass
mourned, for his supper

~rick

Civil Wars

Up high on the ridge, i watched
As two hawks battled
For supremacy

While
Just down the line,
The crows gathered to witness
Wearing the petticoats
Of first Manassas

Down here, in the cheap seats,
Twenty hummingbirds
warred over nectar for fifty
While the ants thieved
And the cat watched

A car grinds down
The drive way, flags waving.
It's Mr. brown bearing gifts as he tells me the evils

Of casting my vote for Mrs. Green

This all i ponder
From a seat of ease
As I have no one
To overthrow

I look to the horses as
Surely a worthy foe
But hay and flies
Seem a poor booty

I look into the window
To more cats
Occupied in a fight
Not worthy of my join

My wife comes out
But that battle
Was Korea'd long ago

And we honour the DMZ

The dog barks
At a plastic bag
Ghosted in the autumn breeze

"shut up stupid!"

The dog retreats
Victory is mine

~rick

Cafe

I don't care for restaurants
They're all shoney
And crackerbarrel

Buffets and chemical cones

The waitresses have clean
Green skirts, matching aprons
And name tags

Tightwad teachers meet here
To tip poorly
And compliment each other

For doing their job

All the pie crusts are stamped
Sysco, and a regional dick
Strikes fear, twice a month

Some restaurants are lovely
And the pies from Deflor's bakery.
Teachers don't go here
But neither do i
As i always feel like I entered
A church
with too much God
And not enough sin

But a cafe, yes,
Where the cook
Bellers and belly laughs
At the
Clumsy girl
Who couldn't get into Shoney's
Cuz of that damn tattoo

She's wearin jeans
As full of holes as
Her manners

She ain't going to State
In the fall
Like the girls at crackerbarrel and
Her apron is filthy
And her hair
Is in your chili

There's a counter
With some stools
Where the plumber and
Electrician perch
Cuz the dice are
Just below the counter

You have to bang the
Salt shaker, and in the corner
Is a juke box that never heard
Of eminem

Teachers won't come here
Cuz they failed
The cook and waitress

And there's worse things
Than hair in your chili

But here, you can laugh out loud
And tip because you want to
Cuz she's your friend
And you take care of your friends

Here, dreams are small
But dreams just
The same

The til stays open to round -offs
And Sadie bakes the pies fresh
Every night

~rick

Whoosh!

I lie on my bed and look up.
Whoosh!
I am sucked upward at the speed of silent scream high above the clouds.
Then, and with not the pause a roller coaster offers to catch one's breath, I am thrown down hard upon a river of concrete.
Thwack! No bounce.
I feel myself dragged, helpless as a hummingbird in a hurricane named Earl.

Over fields of stone, through a field of trees, into a deep ocean where I, the dredge, write new history of disregarded lessons.
This I imagine, as I lie upon my bed of comfort and thought.

For God's sake why?
The readers screams
For God's sake,
The thinker replies.

You see, religion teaches us this- commandment and penalty.
The commandments hang like another's gum from my shoes, having long ago lost its flavor.
That leaves penalty.
Five for fighting
Ten for fucking
A thousand, for just being me.

But another has swung from your rope
Haven't you heard?
Yes, but i don't trust this convenient license to kill.

The children cry
The old man hungers for the loneliness of his youth
And the gun claims God as its trigger

If one has died for the sins of all
why do the sins multiply in the closet of our knowing?
Those that say they don't, lie
And those admitting they do
Are condemned by the liar's parchment.
A conundrum of perfect reply

If choose i could,
One and done would be the smart play
But i know better
And the gum hangs heavy from my shoes
And i lie upon my bed
Whoosh!
Thwack!

Absolved

~rick

hmmmmm

I'm always amazed to find that anyone would read me. I wouldn't. But, and cuz it's free, not cuz I'm homeland security, I have tracker on my blog.
I almost never check it, maybe every couple months, just to see if anyone's still there, but today I had a moment and so glanced. Yes, unbelievably, a few still stop by. But what struck me today was Franklin, Ky. Huh?
dang, that's awful close to where I live! hmmmm Franklin, nice to meet you! Drop me an email and let me know how ever you came to find me. The other few of you, thank you so much for finding some value in my posts, at least enough so that you stop by from time to time.
Franklin, My email is posted on Manx; hope to hear from you.
Love you all,
Rick