first day of summer vacation

6:00 am
leadened sky
shrouded by heavy, stagnant air
dull shadows of nothing
slipping around lukewarm coffee
next to a slice of stale bread
     dry
     tasteless
     colorless
     hopeless
deadening lethargy

      Crimson
          Streak
             Thunders

cloaked 
in the invisibility
of numbness, of aloneness
6:01 am

Donovan's Mom - 1998


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Yin and Yang of Poetry 

A besmocked painter stands poised 
beneath the dome of Chaos 
hurling paint heavy sponges one after another 
with planned but unpracticed throws. 
And from the melding hues and splots 
emerge truth and beauty 
as universal as Chaos itself. 
So too the poet whose words rush 
like water swooshing down a flood swollen river. 

A bespectacled architect stands poised 
beneath the arch of Order 
etching fine lines and scribing crisp apostils 
with precision tools and well hones points. 
And from the navy blue schemata 
emerge hard won truths and sculpted beauty 
as universal as Order itself. 
So too the poet whose every syllable and sound 
is carved and crafted like a filigreed mahogany box. 

Within Chaos are 
the random strands of order that define us. 
Within Order is 
the spontaneous creativity that discovered the strands. 
And poetry, like existence, 
must have both or cease to be 
as Yin and Yang 
circumscribe all that we see. 

Donovan's Mom - 1999