The Original Roosevelt

Crumbs on the wooden floor
And I am too
Not crumbs…but on the wooden floor
Although, I am fragmented, as are crumbs
Coming from something whole,
Valued and desired
Then suddenly, maybe violently so, not seeming
As whole

Here on the wooden floor, my knees hurt
My heart hurts
Because the world hurts
But I’m reminded that the world
Much like this wooden floor
Of Bull Moose bungalow-era origin,
Is resilient
As Hell


I named him
Last Summer it was
When I was golden
My intuition covered, buried it seems 
In Moab red

There still remains ink
And no end to it in sight
So he shall walk on
The same dust
I tread through
Find my god-willed voice soft, sweet
In Alaska blue

Piano Like That

He looked like a man
Breath for
The happiest of walks
The most frozen day of the year

He and the sun
My eyes
So I cannot be
So sure he was walking at all

He held a hangered suit coat 
Him was
A small line of cars
A possible well-wishing Brotherhood

He had puff to his chest
Of gaze
My heart asked me to ask
My breath could not and I drove past 

Buoy Back

For so long for certain
It’s been about
Getting up, up, off, off the mat
Jabbing when you must 
Ducking if you need
Floating on your toes
Staying off your heels

Yet now I am certain
This looks like a draw
Or someone’s else’s bout
I’m calling it
Strutting from the ring 
Still on my game
Setting sweet lyrics to the tone of the bell

Hang On And Shine

Sugar was talking
Then I awoke
Long since removed from my coffee
It speaks to me now while I sleep
As I played in my dream
Running my fingers through its grit
In a commanding twang
It told me 
Hang on and shine 
Sugar I’ll never let go