poetrysmackdown

Pearl

2010-02-07T17:45:00.000-08:00

It was a few words
A sentence
Uttered on
The playground
Long ago at
Some early age

It stuck and
Rolled around
And around
From that
Awkward time
When your nose
Was too big
For your face

And continued
With less frequency
As somehow
Your face grew
And your nose
Shrank
Rolling around
And around
In your brain
Covering itself
With layers
Of protection
From slights
Real and perceived

Until it was like
A pearl
That sentence
Like a grain of sand
That got inside
And grew to
Become a part
Of who you are

Talisman

2009-10-25T18:32:00.000-07:00

I carry it in my
Pants pocket

It is like a well
Worn worry stone

A talisman
A connection
That nurtures
With its touch
Providing a sense
Of safety, security
And comfort

Each day it finds
Its way to that
Right front pocket
To go again
With me into the
World

My Dad’s
Pocket knife

Meade

2009-10-25T18:30:00.000-07:00

Made both for
The academy and
For the world

Hewn by the
Wisdom and
Power of language

His lectures
Stirred the ramparts;
His students moving
On to make a difference

The impact
He had on them
And his broader
Community continues
Long remembered

With quavering voice
He said he was touched
By the impact a small town
English teacher can have –
Sending forth a student
Grounded in the classics

Unknowingly he spoke
Of himself
Of the majestic reach
Of a man and a teacher
Who has mattered

The occasion was
The unveiling of
A celebratory portrait
At his school

In it you could see that
Twinkle in his eye and
A mischievous brightness
That lights up our world

Gary

2009-10-25T18:28:00.001-07:00

He was dying
Ravaged by an
Aggressive cancer
In his brain

When his uncle,
My father, died
Some three years
Ago he asked if he
Could have a small
Tool from his shop

A talisman of
The man he so
Admired who had
Taken him under
His wing when
His own father
Died suddenly when
He was a boy of ten

Along with Sunday supper
And a framed photo
Of him with my Dad
I brought a well used
Screwdriver with a handle
Covered in blue paint

Is this mine to keep?
He said, holding it in
The hand that still worked

I’ll treasure this and
Put it with the my special things
He said from his bed

It lay next to him
For those few more days
Until he too died
And joined the fellow
Craftsman he so loved.

Whistle

2009-09-09T22:39:00.000-07:00

I spent endless hours
Working on pursing
My lips just right

With practice I could imitate
Several local songbirds
And keep my self
Company while doing chores

I would do songs and sometimes
Go on so long my lips would ache

It is becoming a lost art
And now people don't
Know what it means
To wet you whistle

A Man

2008-11-02T13:25:00.000-08:00

A man
Comprised of
Many parts

His personality
Like the
Seasons

Changes and
Reflects those
Around him

Forces which
Bend and shape

At his core
There holds
A center
Which like
The earth
Allows the
Seasons to
Unfold

Walleye

2008-10-15T22:41:00.000-07:00

It is the staple
Fish of the
Minnesota lakes
Country

Filleted and breaded
It anchors many
Special suppers
In that flat land

We had a walleye
Fillet that first
Night in Fosston

In my big
City way I
Inquired of the
Waitress the
Provenance of
The fish

Wondering if
It were line
Caught by a
Sensitive fisherman

"Where did the
fish come from,"
I asked

"It came from
the man who sells
us the fish,"
she replied

Missouri On A Leaf

2008-09-23T18:40:00.000-07:00

It was a metaphor
That could grace
His tombstone

An epitaph stood
For what had been

He had in mind
More a sense
Of becoming

He read it years ago
In a“Beat” tract and
It immediately embodied
For him that sense
Of freedom and wonder
That he wanted for
The core of his life

It meant nothing at
All but yet it held for him
Wonderful possibility

Where are you going?

“I’m going to
Missouri on a leaf”

You Know His Name (1)

2008-09-23T18:34:00.001-07:00

It was the disease of
incrementalism

Twenty years ago
everything was okay

Then, little by little
there were small changes

Each change was imperceptible
But with the passage of time
the changes in the aggregate
became glaringly apparent

He had no idea he looked
so utterly ridiculous
But the entire world
knew he had a combover

You Know His Name (2)

2008-09-23T18:13:00.000-07:00

You could hear him
before you saw him.

He had a high pitched
voice that cut
the air as a knife.

Was he hard of hearing
or did he just want
to be heard.

It seems the volume
made up for an insecurity

He wanted the world
to know he was present

He did count for something
and his voice proved it so.

You Know His Name (3)

2008-09-23T18:11:00.000-07:00

He was charming
He moved with an easy
grace and had
the most refined manners

He sounded so
intelligent

Once on the job
he made idiotic
mistake after mistake

His supposed
sophistication was
apparently little more
than a thin veneer

Composed primarily of
his British accent

Velocity

2008-05-19T12:54:00.000-07:00

When you are
Four years old
The time between
Thanksgiving and
Christmas seems
Like an eternity

That makes sense
Of course because
It comprises two
Percent or so of
Your entire life
And perhaps a larger
Portion of the time
You believed
Christmas mattered

A couple of generations
Later there is no time
Between those two
Events and the
Velocity of the
Calendar inhibits
Accomplishing all of
The necessary tasks

In later adulthood
We want the calendar
To slow down

We can wait for
Christmas

Fish

2008-03-01T14:20:00.000-08:00

It was that
Late summer
Early fall
Indian summer

Before hunting
Season when the
Light is clean and
The colors flaxen

I headed out
After school in
My Dad’s pick-up
To fish in the thin
Hours before dark

Out at my grandparents
Ranch in the creek
Through the big woods
And in the small irrigation
Ditches that bisected
The grain and alfalfa
Fields off the creek

Into the neighbor
Place there was a
Small stream
Hidden in the grasses

Fish like to hide
And I let my
Line drift into
The darkness with
A fresh worm on
The Eagle Claw No. 10

I had just let
The line slide in
When a big trout hit

I set the hook
And played it
Until I could
Bring it in.

My Dad called
His friend over
To see the fish
When I got home

It was a fat
18 inch Rainbow
That curled round
The creel.

Mud Puddle

2008-01-26T18:21:00.000-08:00

What took you
Long, she asked,
To come home
From school

It was the
Mud puddle
My brother said
He had to walk
Around a
Mud puddle

He got in trouble
Because he forgot
To say the mud puddle
Was large and fascinating

He forgot to say
He stopped to throw rocks
In it, steer small
Wooden ships across it
And wage imaginary wars

The mud puddle was
Intriguing and complex
And time ran away
From him

He got in trouble
Because he didn’t
Explain the nuance.

Life is a lot
Like a mud puddle.

Waves

2008-01-26T18:18:00.000-08:00

Time passes
After the death
Numbness abates
Exhaustion is replaced with
A bounce in your step

Life, once exquisite
And vivid and as rich
As life can be

Drifts once again
Toward the banal

Then a wave hits
An emotional tsunami
Out of nowhere
A wave

A wave of recollection
And grief and pain and loss
Powerful for just a moment
Then passing away

I miss you Dad.

Snow Angel

2008-01-26T18:15:00.000-08:00

One of my early
Memories of snow
Was making snow angels
And playing fox and hen
In the snow with my Dad
Along side the highway on the
Way to Snoqualmie Pass

Yesterday I visited his
Grave and uncovered the
Snow from the wreath my
Mom had my brother lay
At the place of the headstone

I laid the wreath against
The plastic yellow sunflowers
I purchased at Albertson’s
Grocery store

And then, I lay on the
Ground above his grave
And made a snow angel

Skunk Cabbage

2008-01-26T18:12:00.000-08:00

I was five or six
The small creek
Behind the school
Held a patch of
Skunk cabbage

I would pick some
And chase the girls
Especially the girl
I liked best that day

The girls squealed
And ran away

Somehow I knew
They secretly liked
The attention

Although many years
Have passed and
I haven’t seen or held
Any since my youth

I still chase girls with
Skunk cabbage

No hands

2008-01-26T18:11:00.001-08:00

It was three miles
or more from Mike's
house all the way
into town.

Riding with arms
straight out for balance
and pedaling strong
and steady.

I was eleven and
never felt more free
and alive than that
particular day.

I remember it still
and sometimes talk about it;
about the time I rode
all the way from Mike's
house into town
with no hands.

Headstone

2008-01-26T18:08:00.000-08:00

It was beautiful
Dark brown
And rose
With a high polish

The name across
The granite jumped out

There is a moment
Of shock when
You see your name

It was Memorial Day
And Dad’s headstone
Had just been installed

“I like the font,”
My daughter said.

Pheasant Hunting

2008-01-20T21:41:00.000-08:00

At 10 I bought
A shotgun with
My own money.

It was a 12 gauge
Remington Model 87
Wingmaster purchased
For 83 dollars from
Willy Strange’s sporting goods
Store on Pine Street
In Ellensburg

I carried it
Empty for the
First year so my
Dad could be sure
That I knew how
To handle a gun

The first opening
Day of the next season
My Dad and I went
Out with Britt
Our Brittany Spaniel

When our dog went on
Point Dad said the first
Bird was mine

Britt flushed the bird
And Dad said, “Shoot!”

Overcome with
Buck fever I firmly
Held my gun and
Shouted, “Shoot! Shoot!”

Years later Dad
And I went out on a
Cold Christmas Day with
Our Brittany

On that fine day
It was three for three

And I came home
Triumphant with
Resplendent
Ringneck roosters
Dangling at my side.

Holding My Hand

2007-11-21T19:52:00.001-08:00

Hold my hand
When we cross
The street

We do it
For safety
And security

And we do
It for comfort
And affection

As children grow
Hands begin
To stay busy
Or in pockets

“I’m big now”
No need to hold
Hands to cross
The street

But old habits
Are slow to die

I remember still
That time and place
When my daughter
Elizabeth last reached
Spontaneously for
My hand

It is a moment
I treasure

The last time
She held my hand

Tears of Joy

2007-11-21T19:51:00.000-08:00

I entered
Her dressing room,
Hugged her
And burst into
Tears
Don’t be sad
She said

I’m not
Sad, I mumbled
Through
My sobs

They are
Rare, these
Tears of joy

Those few
Times in a
Life when
The magic
Combination
Of love and wonder
Bring a flood
Of emotion

I had surprised
Her back stage
After a cross
Country trip

To watch
Her perform
The lead in
Swan Lake

She was the
Swan
Transfixing and
Elegant

And she was
My little girl
Now grown up and
A star

The Edge

2007-11-21T19:50:00.000-08:00

You stand on the edge
Thinking for a moment
Do I go forward?

Knowing in some way
That your life will change
Inalterably if you
Take that step

Knowing that
Whether you move
Or not your life
Will change

Knowing that the
Edge is not a cliff
But a knife
That slices your life
Into before and after

Casserole

2007-11-12T13:35:00.000-08:00

The word spread
rapidly through
the small rural
community

She was not
doing well

After years
of failing health
she was now passing

It was a blessing
but nonetheless
it was difficult
and a time for
family and friends
to gather around

They sat silently in the
front room
and puttered in
the kitchen
waiting for the
inevitable

There were three
casseroles

Really!

2007-10-09T08:51:00.000-07:00

“We found a body but
we caught the most amazing
fish though.”[1]

Yeah, we were walking through
The woods to get to this really
Cool fishing hole. It is really deep and
Has the eddies that move back against the
Cliff on the far side.

I had my old bamboo rod and that spinning reel
That my Grandpa gave me

There was this leg sticking out of the leaves
On the trail.

I caught a bunch of grasshoppers yesterday
Evening and dug up some nightcrawlers from
The worm farm by the back door.

It looked really gnarly like it had been there a
Long time

I had a fresh set of Eagleclaw No.10 hooks
And some new leader and I rigged up a bobber
So I could drift in with about eight feet of line
And let the bait move back into the eddy with
Three small lead BB weights on the line

Gawd it was amazing. When it hit it was like
A freight train.

Billy ran back to call the cops.

It grabbed that bait and took the hook and almost
Jerked the pole right out of my hand. Jesus did it
Pull that line.

But I kept working it and working it and just kept
Breathing like my Grandpa said until my arms were
Aching.

It was unbelievable. It was 18 inches long. A big
Fat rainbow. I think I hooked it last summer and lost it.
I’m gonna take it home and bread it and fry it.
It was so amazing.

Yeah, really!

[1] From the movie, Jindabyne, a loose adaptation of Raymond Carver’s short story “So Much Water So Close to Home.”

Collective Grief

2007-08-04T16:44:00.000-07:00

Small slights
Each imperceptible
Occur day by day

Events of our lives
At home, at work
And in the world
At large

Things that
Upset but not
So much as to
Rise to the level
Of conscious reaction

I call them the small
Grief or the little grief

We accumulate them
Over time in some
Reservoir of emotion
About which we
Have no awareness

Then, one day a big
Event occurs and a flood
Flows from that
Reservoir out of
Proportion to the event
Itself

When the event is public
As with the death of
A revered icon
The flood includes
Not only our accumulated
Grief but also
That collective grief we
All share which has
Accumulated silently
Beside our own.

P. O. V.

2007-08-03T15:05:00.000-07:00

It hurt my
Head to think
About the universe
Expanding out
Forever without end

I was six years
Old and struggled
With that
Perplexing notion

Until, one day walking
In my backyard
To climb my
Favorite apple tree

It occurred to me
That if I were
Small boy
On Mars
It might hurt my
Head to think
Of a universe that
Had an end

And it might
Seem normal for
The universe to
Go on forever

Nearly sixty years
Have passed since
That day and I
Still find comfort
In the idea

That you can
Imagine a different
Point of view
And it will stop
The hurt in
Your head.