Fear of Flight

Captain, please.
Must you say
“we’re here”?
That I know.

And must you lie,
“we’re there”?
I need, Captain,
to trust you.

The Reader

So I asked her,

“Why that book?”
She said

“Back off, Jerk.”

Pre-need, Mausoleum

He said, “The upper Lever,”
his arms prayerfully raised.
“Be far from the Devil.”

He said, “The heart level,”
his hand to his breast.
“You deserve no hovel.

He said, “The prayer level.”
he knees on the floor.
“With god, a revival.”

I said, “A pox on a level.
Just burn me real cheap, And make my bones gravel.”

Oh Travis,

I know
and needn’t ask it
that all you wanted

was to shoot some baskets

To the Disciples

And then he said, “Converge your ways
to the land near Kinneriths’s sea.
Though it will take a few days,
I will speak and you can see me.

So we walked all those miles
and gathered near the sea.
He said with kindly smiles,
“To all creatures, speak of me.”

“Or when the eagles sit down,
for godly gourmet,
put on this lovely gown
'cause I’m coming your way

Her Face

Childhood soulmate
once blonde
beautiful.
Her face,
bloated, grotesque
ravaged by time,
disease, medicine.
Vague, blue eyes,
straight, white teeth
chopped chin like mine.
Youth, brilliance
gone.
Delicate hands
that once skimmed
her piano’s keys.
Muttered words to
Voices that only she hears.
Then
a laugh
a ceramic bell
light, gay
And I know
my sister is in there,
somewhere.

Don

You mouth was open.
I couldn’t close it.
You’d said, “Take care of Kim
and bring prayers..”

I gave Kim
my spare room.
I called
and got prayers.

I got your dad and brother
at the airport.
Your son and daughter came
and your ex-wife called. She cried.

I called the insurance and got you cremated
for one hundred eighty-two dollars.
Your brother took you to Georgia
in the cardboard box.

The prayers came to my house
and we remembered you.
I fixed a snack and your dad said,
“So much for the lord.”

Your son wrote and said,
“thank you.”
Sailor, they rowed you
into the Atlantic off Georgia.

Kim and her friend called.
They needed a ride to Gallup.
After all these years,
I remember you.

Your “Only best friend
that did not
die
on you.”

Spare Change

“Spare change, sir?
Just a quarter?
Spare change, sir?
Just a dime?
Spare change, sir?
Just a penny?
Don’t need your dollar, sir.
Just see me.”

James

I was born in Roswell,
raised in West Virginia.
I played football
since I was tall.

Bainbridge Life Cycle - Ludicrous Image

After the final Peabody bicker,
with champagne we stifled a snicker
imagining death and birthing travail
as we launched the ferries’ first sail.

Tacoma, the island’s great womb.
Wenatchee, a commuter’s tomb.
Autos and bodies comprise a great hoard
to bury and birth, the vessels disgorge.

Silence

Actions, sir, not words.
Madam, actions are my words.
Actions of my heart.

To The Chief Musician

Pray sir,
harp sweetly,
my heart
to the eighth string.

Restraint

So, I said, “Sir, may I be of service?”
He said, “And your age?’
I said, “I am twenty.”
He said, “You must be celibate.”
I said, “Excuse me. I don’t think so.”

So, I married
and was faithful
and things got bad
and I was celibate.
Well, sort of.

So, we divorced,
and I was celibate
and I became lonely
and I was celibate
well, sort of.

And I remained celibate
well, sort of.
And I got diabetes
and became celibate
for real.

So I said, “Sir, may I be of service?
I am celibate.”
And he said, “And your age?”
I said, “Sixty-five”
He radioed in,
“Houston, we have a problem.”

The Knock

She knocked and said,
“Oh, sorry.
I thought someone else
lived here.”
I said,
“No problem,
no one lives here.”

Genesis 24:67

So he took her
into Mama’s tent
and made her his wife
and he loved her.

The crux of the matter
was,
\ she was comfort
when Mama died.

The lazy boy

moves away,
in a van
where I’ll never be,
from impressions
in the carpet pile
where I rocked
early moments
of infants’ lives
swaddled close
so close
so close
and where they chattered
near my stockinged feet
to tiny friends
and where Audrey said
“My daddy loves me”
and where l lean
against a barren wall
with a hollow echo
and I rock
a silent rock
and I rock

I said grace

in the tavern’s din
then saw her
in my napkin
soggy, flecked with pepper.

Poe Says,

“I
maintain
that
the
phrase
‘a long poem’
is
simply
a
flat
contradiction
in
terms.”

So
Poe,
beat
this.
E. A. Poe – “The Poetic Principle”

for richard

“We reeled in the nets
and pulled the fish,”
he said
in the glow of fire.
“Maybe next year.”
And the blues played.