Monday, October 27, 2008

The Wet World


On Haines Wharf's ancient spine
The timbers would hop and jump squealing with pain
Of various vehicles long remembered
Sea salt smell and boat motors blue smoke
Ever-greedy sea gulls gliding

In the back, in a "off limits to public” place
By the small shake shack, with opaque wizened windows
Where the boat lift motor was haphazardly lounging
With murky mysterious mixtures milling about in rusty cans
And old tools and rags of course

There was a large crack amongst the boards
And peering through this rent in the pier
A door to a watery world was opened
The information revealed varied with the tides,
The sunlight, the weather and nature's perversity

Once, a huge school of piling perch had gathered
They had bunched up in a fixed formation
Sculling in shaded standstills
Slowly, silently, they slipped along the sand
Revealing the secrets of their species

I never studied schoolwork more studiously
Spying intently how they ate
Visually separating the blue perch from the silver
Whispering to my buddy Brock
As if they could hear our impish intentions

Imagining shallow water stealth spookiness
Instead of fat contentment
It seemed like a Rockwell black-and-white print
Piscatorial perfection
Until all hell broke loose when hooked

The blurs of fat fighting furies
Stumbling, squirming, yelling to stay connected
Threading the beauty into steaming sunlight
Into our world
Of secret smiles and crayon color

Silver sides shivering with sparkling scaled stripes
Miracles of cunning creation for us to touch
A true wet wonderment
We exchanged an intimate knowledge
Until we sadly kissed them and sent them home

Fallen Skies


Fallen skies, dream me gray
My lord, my soul to pray
Fall leaves, straining sunbeams, holding fast
Honeymoon moments, seeming too good to last

Woodsmoke, football and graveyard’s bounce
Windswept darkness, character building drills
Holiday specials, prettily poised to pounce
Summer she long gone, no hot weather thrills

Seasons change for their reason
Enveloping fog as cold dead breath
Hard headed shorts wearing heathen
We rhyme away time for winter’s death

All hail the stinging hail!
Swirling leaves with lightning pepper
The morning dog walk would try a leper
Remember us spring and do not fail!

My Words are too Little


As I lay in bed I miss you
I think of all the things you bring to my life
Sometimes I don’t feel like I can express it
So I say I love you
And hope for the best

So much warmth
And humor and closeness and intimacy
When you left the show was still on
I thought about watching it
But is seemed weird without you

Things like movies don’t seem like movies anymore
Unless I can share them with you
Sometimes I am mad
I didn’t meet you earlier
We most likely would have a couple kids now

But if a 25 year old You was injected into the life of a 33 year old Me
We would still be drinking
And most likely get divorced and hate each other
Although it would seem awful hard to hate you

Maybe you have come along at the perfect time
Maybe it was all planned by God
I am just really glad it happened
And I wish I could tell you how glad

But I can’t my words are too little
And so I try and show you many different ways
And tell you I love you
And hope for the best