Pudgy Indian

AUTUMN

A poet I never
met
said something
I don't remember.
His work, though...
Her words...

painted landscapes
gave me names
spoke of cultures
so foreign
and next door
and far away

Wind picks up thier words
fallen leaves in autumn
fear, terror, beauty Love
tragedy, triumph

Their words have changed lives

In the spring
Leaves will bud on the trees
again.


FORCE AND FREEDOM

Those with the guns
make the laws

It's time for something different.


INDIAN

I've cried tears
to fill
a winter
storm.

I've laughed so loud
it planted seeds in others

I mourn
like an Indian

I Love
like an Indian

I've danced
like a fool

I've hid in bed
and prayed for the day to end.

Life is Beautiful.


THE WRITTEN WORD

Those with the guns
have laid them down
and asked for something different

I laid my pen
in the crotch of the book
looked out into the darkness
at the trees
getting naked
to sleep during the cold
I pray

Pray with my pen
to the page
Pray for peace.


DRUMMING AND BOUNCING

Drops are drumming
from the gutters
a ball is bouncing

I wandered through a cemetery
this afternoon
The cold wet sky
released as I wandered
amongst the stones
lookin for something
familiar...

and maybe finding it.

The gutter drums
The ball bounces
Cars deliver the living
to their destinations.


ART

I paint the world
with words

Ace of hearts
rubber mallets
cobwebs
wet earth

Car delivering the matriarch
to her home.

My hands are words
ideas
on a page

Lately
I am seeing things...

Grandma, Grandpa, Dad!

I paint the world
with words

I am a poet