My Wife Likes to Hang Things

A kitchen witch hangs in my house
Colored glasses drooping over copper stays
The hot wind strums the strings
As the dangling collection sways

A stained hand dangles down
Blue and gold ribbon affixed to a board
My wife likes to hang things
A twisted leathered bridle, tacked with a cord

Hanging like silent wind chimes
One end free the other moor
Blue bottles dangle down
Dancing over the kitchen floor

The slow and shifting drifting waltz
The pendant utensils hops
My wife likes to hang things
Now slowing but never stops

Next to the witch twirls a nursery mobile
Too fast it spins and sings
Together they fly with a gentle breeze because
My wife liked to hang things

Let's produce a cloud

Let's produce a cloud
and cover it all white
(it has to fit the sky)

We'll settle on the stars
in the pitch and deep abyss
not too bright, not too bliss.
(constellations aren't always worn)

We can milk a day and call it sun
a loft, our beechnut barn
not too soft, not too calm.
(farm crops grow wild awhile)

Raise a rainbow for me, m'dear
the sky will die with shame
neon tints of silver flints
forest blue and marlin green
ashen brick, and sullen grey
a casket full of colors.
Bronzen hinge and handle
velvet, felt a bit
jester june, and marple steed
masquerade the mortal marriage
a union of cumulus, debris, and stone.

even lightning cannot describe
what's meant when the cloud can't arrive
and rivers who overflow their peaks, are creeks
when no respect goes to the stars that don't reflect
a mighty gale blows baby breath
when dairy dawn delivers but froth

am I to build the foundations of the sky?
when I have left the clouds to dry

am I to tame the fiery stars
when I am quenched by every char

and sun whose udder be my design?
as caged and jailed I do confine

Once given the sky, I bowed to receive
locked in a box though, never turned the key.

Last Night I Fell in Love

Last night I fell in love with Love,
and though it is out of fashion
I did not meet that special one
who filled my heart with passion.
 
If last night I fell in love, my love
like a star who onces shines
tonight it's fallen love, 
then falls into the dust and dies.

Graffito (CMSC 112 & CSS 2332)

"I have to change my major."

said the desk.

"Flight 714."

said the chair

"Talking Heads"

"End is God"

"Joanne was here"

"What looks like a taco, but smells like a fish?"

"Baltimore Sox"

"and Captain Maniac '83"

"Destiny cums"

"Fear of Music"

"To the P.L.O. victory."

Wedding

Is it as thought? the wine as sweet?

Is the table set? the hair, dress in place?

Is the challah as pure as the tune being sung?

Sweet soft, shades slide by

by the winds, our windows open

and we see

the promise was made

like a mountain? small but seen from afar

or the songbird that suddenly enchants you?

Sweet soft, clouds crowd through.

Did Mom labor for your love? (as she sees fit)

Was Dad to cry, or sigh at the exchange rate.

    I took my wallet out, and said,"That's nice"

    "Who's Ken", whose Kin. Someones son

    son of one, sister's son?, sister's love.

    and sister's beloved it was to be

    he being one from our family type of tree

    I stopped and thought of her, not me.

    I think I tried to learn of he.

    Disguised beneath the mask, I wear

    between the borders of life we share

    I feel the grip of the break 'o dawn

    and know the morning will bless the bond

    and sweet

    I know

So did the sun rise, as though you willed?

Did your heart beat, hoping the sun was stilled?

and on your way from the house as you took a turn

would it look different when you returned?

a casual look, a gleeful glance would it

last the memory, would it endure romance.

and as the last bouquet's prepared

and as the couple at last is paired

when silver set and tea are laid

when wedding bonds and vows are trade'

canopy unfurled, the flowers picked that morning

the vines weaving like bride and groom joining.

and when the many have dwindled to few

and finally there is no queue

the band is through

there is just

the two.

(the river)

It is easy to see the river run deep

walk along, throw stones

the banks creep, steep

the sand rough, the water weep.

Pause to think and dream upstream

salmon splash, lighting dim

grasses sprout, tall about

don't shout

Look down at the drips and splash below,

the curious painted single drops

that plop and plink to run the river

deep and cool. Breath that drip

drink that plink, that plop, that drop.

headstream

of the

river.

Doggone Dream'in

The dog did dream

as he lay down

a heavy sleep.

No noise no sound.

The comandante

had poured an ale

to quench the thirst

that made him pale.

But not the music

of the box

nor gifted craft

of love not lost

could shake his bone

that set like fire

of steal and meat

and rage and pyre.

Although the ale did

quench at first,

his soul did not

return from worse.

A stolen love had

played its part

and with it came

a stone of heart.

The dog awoke to feel

the cold

buried deep

beneath the bone.

But do not pity

his soul long

his body of black

was made in Hong Kong.