Sailor

Someday he'll buy a sailboat
something small
a twenty-five footer
just a jib and a mainsail
a little sloop
a couple of grand
he'll fix it up
on a sandy beach
with his jeans rolled up
wind blowing sand in his hair
he'll paint it blue and white
and call it
something
he doesn't know yet
but he'll call it something
and he'll launch it into the harbor
and pack it with
tin cans of food
and a rusty old typewriter
with extra ribbons
and a dozen or so reams of paper
then he'll sail away
tacking into the wind
zigzagging away from
the man he left behind
on the shore
the man with his leg
anchored to the pier
he'll clip along on the waves
waving back to himself
scared and happy
waving back from
The Santa Maria

Blot

Blot out the sun
And the small spots of light
That make up this man
With no city
And no walls
An exposed blot
On this board
An exposed spot
Of small light
That went dark
In the quiet
Consumed by the white

When Your Wife Dies Before You Do

Every tender moment
Soft
And real
That will come our way
And all the betrayals
I have yet to lay
And
All of my questions
That received no
Answers
Were not supposed to be
Answered
Not now
Or then
Only later
When I’m old
And confused
When I’m shaking
From fear of
True loneliness
Because she died
Before me

David and Rey

A cub poised
On the shoulders
Of a bear
Fearless
Golden
And Shining
Father and son
Strong in love
And strong
Like a man
And a man to be

Asimo

Ha ha
I’ve made it
Hey, look what I’ve done
He can walk
He can climb
He can practically run

Yes, yes
I made it
Jeez, look at him go
Sprinting now
Through the crowd
As his mind starts to grow

Of course
I made him
To make life a breeze
Fetch my shoes
Get my coat
Start my car, grab my keys

Oh, wow
I made them
We can all relax
No more work
No more sweat
Take this load off our backs

Dear God
I’m unmade
I must be deranged
No more work
No more jobs
Can it spare me some change?

Jane

There was a girl
Briefly loved
Who faded from
Memory
No poems were
Written about her
Though she was lovely
And had a warm heart
She faded from
Memory
I think of her
Every now and then
And when I do
It is only because
I’m trying to remember
The people I’ve forgotten
The people
Who loved me

Geeks

He loves her like
Little boys love spaceships
And she him
Like little girls
In high school theater
Anticipate a weekend
Renaissance festival

She feels as good
As Q-tips digging
Deep In his ear
And he does not
Differ much from the
Coziest of all Teddy Bears
With the softest hairs
And eyes plucked out

Algebraically speaking
His Y and her X intersected
Forming a perfect
Origin
Upon which all other
Things will be graphed