Lost in the night sky

The child sits 

staring deep 

Into the wonderment of the night sky.

Agape,

her mouth hangs

as her eyes

scan the darkness

for what her mind

busily imagines could be. 

And watching his child

watch the heavens

the loving father weeps.

To know his child

to see her becoming

Developing and growing.

He watches

her little face Change with every shooting star.

Imagining 

what she could be

who she will be.

Both sharing a tear of wonderment with the night's gentle breeze.

The child lost, in the heavens.

He lost in her future.

Grandpa Was a hero

Granddad knew the Prince of Wales

The captain in the trench
Sharing his silver, chocolate and Cigarettes

The pop of the mustard gas
Filling the trenches with the dead

This was the setting
For this great man

His scruples would come later
When he took to the cross
Revolted by his Cigarettes and Gin
Sending his only son to war
To become a man
The angel of the trenches.
In the second stage of hell

His son
Now one of the crosses
Marking the resting spot
Of the Greatest Generation.

This man from England, Toronto, Detroit
Becomes devout and good
Christian and Sober

Now asleep
Next to his son and sinners alike.

Why we drink

We in the service business
The ones behind the scenes
The ones dripping sweat onto your meal
Burning their hands and arms
Screaming their angst deep into the night

We feed you on your night out
When you're looking for a good time
When you're looking to impress a lover
When you're looking to close a deal
You're looking to us
And yet
And yet you ask

Why we drink
Why we get tore-the-fuck-up
Why we take pills
Why we abuse cocaine, heroine or whatever else is available

This business abuses the body
So we abuse the body

My Christmas Prayer

Dear Lord,
Who art in Heaven,
Hallowed be thy name.

Please lord,
Watch over your flock
This Christmas Day.

Guide your wandering sheep
Adrift in this wide world
Who have been blessed with thought
Mind and Spirit
Who are consuming your planet.

These Christians that you made
So white and so pure
Have brought to your house
A sacrifice of toil and pain
Not of their own fleshy bodies
But of their distant inferior kind.

Our love for you Oh Lord
Is shown this holy day
upon which we believe you were born
So accept these goods
We have bought for ourselves.
Give us this day
and Ever more
As we have come to expect of you.

For in your name we pray
With life, liberty and justice for all

Amen

A San Juan Christmas Card

She sits upon the seawall
Modeling for her lovers to be

Facing away she stretches out her leg
Exposing the divots
Of a television life

He has already had her today
But she dances still
Her game
A play of desire and thanks

A holiday couple
Escaping their living room
To the beaches of Puerto Rico.

I do not know
Which one
Dragged the other
Out of the security of Home

The Husband
Stalwart
or His chatty bride
The Michigan family five
Corn fed Red faced Americans

All settled in the territories
For Christmas week
An Escape from the norm
To enjoy their Exotic TV
In their air-conditioned
Caribbean hotel room

A far away land
Exotic, warm, accessible

Winter's coffee

Im beginning to like the pain

Sitting here
Staring out this dirty
Broken
Pane

The glass cracked from the chill
Minnesota's December wind
Howling my damnation
Across the plain

A sweet ray of sun
Cast across the kitchen floor
Teases me of months to come

Im beginning to like this pain
Creeping up my spine
Mixing with the chill
Willing me into a soft dream
Even as the kettle screams