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Sunday, October 30, 2011

The Things We Need the Least

Not hidden, available
for all to see,
the things we need the least,
confront us, visibly.

Drought in Ethiopia, obviously
Famine in Uganda, unnecessarily.
Genocide in Tibet, historically.
Disease in Haiti, rampantly.
Devastation in Japan, climactically.
Now Alabama too equally sadly.

A $434,000 gown,
an $80,000 cake,
a Rolls Royce ride to town,
a $1,000,000 ring,
London’s $50,000,000 bill,
$6,000 suites,
and $500,000 flowers.

Not hidden, available
for all to see,
the things we need the least,
confront us, visibly.

Are you kidding me?

What Brought Me Here

There is nothing I would change
about my life, even if I could,
because it all brought me to you.

There is nothing else I would build,
not from paper, stone or wood,
except that which created me and you.

There is nothing I could say,
even if I should,
that speaks louder than the me in you.


She’s wrapped in the security
of her inner tube, made whole
by his hot breath,
the water around her a mystery,
shaping her form, set by the
limits of her pool.
A hole in the water,
that’s all she might be,
were it not for his breath,
keeping her afloat,
in the pool, in the town,
in the earth, on this marble in flight,
in one particular speck of an
immeasurable space.
Who of us could see her,
held firm in his love, still think
there is no God.


All of a sudden, it seemed, everything shifted.
I mean, now I look at myself in the mirror,
never have gotten stuck doing that before,
It’s my body, all right – skin grafts, check,
stitching scars, check, sagging lower belly, check.
What the hell, it’s a used body, this one, well used.
No, it’s not the body, at least not the externals.

There’s movement and change, I think maybe growth.
Never been a churchgoer, but I’m there now.
They don’t call it a church, it’s the Unity Center,
but what’s in a name, really? It’s a church.
There’s singing and praying and meditation.
There’s sermons and thoughts for living.
It’s a church, all right.

Even my dreams have been altered,
by cosmic forces or aging nostrils, who can tell?
Hopes and aspirations still abound, different now.
I’ve bought enough stuff, sold enough homes,
moved enough times, looking, seeking, reaching.
Now the goals are inward, searching for that place,
no, not a place, waiting for that spirit to touch me.

I’ve been poor before, really poor
No food, no money, no job, no ideas,
always been afraid it could happen again.
Careful as I am, it’s not going to show up soon.
How, then, will success be measured?
Perhaps it’s in how well I manage change.
Maybe it’s in just letting the change occur.

Whatever’s coming, there are a few things I know.
I want to laugh too much.
I plan to cry when it’s necessary.
I intend to be happy, healthy and at peace.
So, it’s not really change that’s due, at all.
It’s simply transformation.

Thursday, October 27, 2011

See Ya later

Recently returned from my Cancer Tour,
surprised at how much we laughed,
how little we cried…actually, not at all.
There was the prostate in Sonoma,
the one no longer present,
and the pancreas in Napa,
a little smaller now.
The brain in the East Bay, pretty bleak,
having inherited its doom
from the lungs and the liver.
There are, of course, people
attached to these afflicted organs,
friends of long standing, 50 years, more.
I don’t remember what we talked about.
Talking wasn’t the point, not really.
There was more being and having than doing going on.
I know that no one said goodbye,
not even when I moved on to the next town,
or back to mine.
I had thought I’d tell them all about when I died for awhile,
on that hillside in the jungle, far from home.
No one’s ever heard the whole of that.
And they still haven’t.
I don’t know if goodbye is important to say,
not like thank you, I love you, my life is better because of you,
those you better say before you can’t.