Category Archives: Poetry

Animal Poem

Do you like horses?
Of courses. Of courses.

Do you like cows?
And hows. And hows.

How about pigs?
We digs. We digs.

And sheep too?
We do. We do.

What about deer?
We cheer. We cheer.

And dogs and cats?
Do you have to ask?


(originally written on June 28, 2008)
For My Kids

i could live with three

if i could limit my life
to words with two letters
would my days and nights
be worse or be better
up and in
would carry the day
down and out
would just go away
on would rule
it would never get tired
and off would leave
it would simply be fired
there’d only be go
there would be no stop
there would be no bottom
there would be no top
that’s all well and good,
but i still don’t think so
’cause there’d be no yes
and there’d only be no
and there’d be no you
i would only have me
so two would not do
but i could live with three



the line

he could see the line
it was there, always there
constantly daring him to cross

he even liked it
he flirted with the line
taunted it from a distance

but he had chosen a path
a comfortable, winding path
that would never force him to cross it

and then one day
suddenly and without warning
the path brought the line closer than it had ever been

the line sprang to life
startled, he stared at the line
and the line gazed back at him

with eyes and mouth
and body and spirit it spoke
and called his name and begged him

to leave the path


i miss you

your face
on my screen is
gripping my brain
I know it’s a photo
but it drives me insane
it’s solely to blame
for the sleep
i’m delaying
for this moment’s
for the demons
i’m slaying
for this game
that I’m playing
for this price
that I’m paying
for the urge
i’m obeying
for these words
I’m relaying
and the ones
I’m not saying


The Poem Store

Walking out of Moscone Center in San Francisco, our group happened upon Zach Houston’s Poem Store.

Zach sits outside with an old typewriter and pumps out poems on ripped scraps of paper. He simply asks what you want your poem to be about and you pay him what you wish. I had no cash, so I borrowed three dollars, including a $2 bill from Ira Serkes and polled the group for what I should ask him to write about. Ginger Wilcox suggested, “Love.” That’s one of my favorite topics, so that’s what we went with.

I was going to just type in the poem he wrote for me, but you really can’t get a feel for the poems he writes without seeing them. So here it is. Thanks, Zach.


wipe that smile off of your face

here she comes, walking up the aisle
the stewardess with the plastic smile
she’s moving at a turtle’s pace
a silly look upon her face
it appears to be glued just above her chin
that ever present, stupid grin
can’t she see i’m not in the mood
to watch someone else feel so good
she doesn’t mean it anyway
it’s just a game she’s paid to play
so, i think i’ll make my flight complete
and as she passes my prime aisle seat
i’ll trip her

on the plane home

if i were a kid

if i were a kid
i’d get up right now
and go play
i wouldn’t worry
about a thing
i’d walk right out
and cozy up
with the first toy
that caught my eye
or the first person
who crossed my path
and we’d laugh
for no reason
and dance around
without any music
and shout
and sing
and act silly
and fall down
on purpose
and think it was funny
and keep laughing
until our cheeks hurt

if i were a kid


her first letter

her words were written on the page
but they had lips
and they spoke without the rage
that used to be us

i could hear her voice
inside my heart of hearts
so familiar i cried
for the first time since the end

for a moment
i wished she were near
holding me while i cried
telling me i had nothing to fear
making me believe it

but my tears fell on hardened ground
this heart of mine
and soon i couldn’t hear the sound
of her familiar voice inside my heart

it waits now in silence
ready to be torn apart
by more words from her


after reading the first letter from cindy… after several years apart.

michael’s delusion

all around me are simple minds
simple minds draped in the glory of their ignorance
for them, this is truly bliss
happiness is relative
and peace is an abstract
that can only become reality
when the struggle for it is lost
for all around me are simple minds
draped in the glory of their ignorance

at Central State Hospital, 1984
Indianapolis, IN
written from what i thought might be the perspective of a patient named “michael”

one of my lost poems

this is how i know

we met
in a dream
and we kissed
and i fell to my knees
and clung tight to your waist
and buried my face in your arms
and asked you to never, ever let me go
and you held my face & whispered, “always”

this is how I know that dreams really do come true.