other people’s lives

the train slows,

hissing brakes and

iron rails sound out,

the platform

comes

into

view

how many towns

or stops in the city

have we seen?

perched at the window

looking out

how many people

live solitary lives

on the other side

of fences

of walls

of cities

and rivers?

other people’s lives

move swiftly past our own.

the train lurches

as the engine picks up

the rails cry out

as the platform

slowly

moves

past

the train slows,

hissing brakes and

iron rails sound out,

the platform

comes

into

view

how many towns

or stops in the city

have we seen?

perched at the window

looking out

how many people

live solitary lives

on the other side

of fences

of walls

of cities

and rivers?

other people’s lives

move swiftly past our own.

the train lurches

as the engine picks up

the rails cry out

as the platform

slowly

moves

past

i’ve been had

i’ve been had several times over

i remember one night, a darker summer night

i had a girl with me, a good looking, petite young thing

someone who other guys wanted, but i had

and i had my friends with me, and one guy

one guy inparticular, jack geren,

he sidled up to me as i was standing at the front of the car

and he asked me,

“so, now that you have everything, what does it feel like?”

looking back now, i feel it is less a statement about me

and more about him, and funny how we always

tend to take that shortsighted look

i wonder what must have been going on with jack

i wonder what his home life must have been like

what he missed so desparately that he saw in me

in my tawdry, insignifcant successes…everything.

i remember another deep summer night

this time several years later, i went to a party

some backyard affair, somebody’s dad was out of town

and we were in his oversized garage, there was a dj

there was a smoke machine, big time for high school kids

and there was a girl, and she came up and she asked me,

“what do you think is sexy?”

and i told her, “everything you do.”

she came home with us, and by us I mean me and cory barton

she and i struggled into the back seat of his tan 1978 camero

and cory drove us around as we made out for about an hour

i don’t know where cory drove, i just know he did

looking back now, i realize it is less a statement about me

and more about him,

i wonder what cory was thinking as he drove for that hour

i know what his home life was like, he got what he wanted

but what was he missing, that he drove me and some namless girl

around for an hour, and why he didn’t just refuse, or drop us off

but i’ve been had several times over

and i am not the lesser for it, but someone

else always seems to get the better on me

i’ve been had several times over

i remember one night, a darker summer night

i had a girl with me, a good looking, petite young thing

someone who other guys wanted, but i had

and i had my friends with me, and one guy

one guy inparticular, jack geren,

he sidled up to me as i was standing at the front of the car

and he asked me,

“so, now that you have everything, what does it feel like?”

looking back now, i feel it is less a statement about me

and more about him, and funny how we always

tend to take that shortsighted look

i wonder what must have been going on with jack

i wonder what his home life must have been like

what he missed so desparately that he saw in me

in my tawdry, insignifcant successes…everything.

i remember another deep summer night

this time several years later, i went to a party

some backyard affair, somebody’s dad was out of town

and we were in his oversized garage, there was a dj

there was a smoke machine, big time for high school kids

and there was a girl, and she came up and she asked me,

“what do you think is sexy?”

and i told her, “everything you do.”

she came home with us, and by us I mean me and cory barton

she and i struggled into the back seat of his tan 1978 camero

and cory drove us around as we made out for about an hour

i don’t know where cory drove, i just know he did

looking back now, i realize it is less a statement about me

and more about him,

i wonder what cory was thinking as he drove for that hour

i know what his home life was like, he got what he wanted

but what was he missing, that he drove me and some namless girl

around for an hour, and why he didn’t just refuse, or drop us off

but i’ve been had several times over

and i am not the lesser for it, but someone

else always seems to get the better on me

the real

every so often i get a glimpse of something real

sometimes it comes when i am writing and thinking

and sometimes when i am driving in the empty city at night

i can feel that something real pressing into me

but as often as it comes, it goes leaving me dull grey

and my mind fills with wet cotton and it is slow

slower to remember you

and i lay in bed at night and struggle to recall

when i was a child and i think that must have been

when everything was real, but i am losing it

i’ve lost a big chunk of it already

but there has to be something real, the taste of salt

the smell of steak on the grill or weeds burning in fall,

or the honeysuckle down the lane

my fingers are numb as i write this and it worries me

every so often i get a glimpse of something real

sometimes it comes when i am writing and thinking

and sometimes when i am driving in the empty city at night

i can feel that something real pressing into me

but as often as it comes, it goes leaving me dull grey

and my mind fills with wet cotton and it is slow

slower to remember you

and i lay in bed at night and struggle to recall

when i was a child and i think that must have been

when everything was real, but i am losing it

i’ve lost a big chunk of it already

but there has to be something real, the taste of salt

the smell of steak on the grill or weeds burning in fall,

or the honeysuckle down the lane

my fingers are numb as i write this and it worries me

the honeysuckle lane

there is a little lane just over the fields from my house

no one ever goes down there, except every so often

a farmer runs his milk cattle up to a far field

but other than that I have never seen anyone go up there

the road is weathered and beaten, by still around

the sides are full of hickory and honeysuckle

and in early June the blooms are in full

and the air is heady and strong

it reminds me for some reason of summers

spent in utah, when running along the close sidewalks

in the late evening, a lingering chill comes down

from the mountain valley, and the fences on the street

were draped in honeysuckle vines

i picked a few flowers today, which is odd for me

and i even thought about taking a basketfull

back to the house, and of letting the honeysuckle

fill the air in the house

and I suppose this novel thought

made me think of you

there is a little lane just over the fields from my house

no one ever goes down there, except every so often

a farmer runs his milk cattle up to a far field

but other than that I have never seen anyone go up there

the road is weathered and beaten, by still around

the sides are full of hickory and honeysuckle

and in early June the blooms are in full

and the air is heady and strong

it reminds me for some reason of summers

spent in utah, when running along the close sidewalks

in the late evening, a lingering chill comes down

from the mountain valley, and the fences on the street

were draped in honeysuckle vines

i picked a few flowers today, which is odd for me

and i even thought about taking a basketfull

back to the house, and of letting the honeysuckle

fill the air in the house

and I suppose this novel thought

made me think of you

september rains

there is not much to tell about the rainfall in september

the rain comes often, it is cold and grey, wet and miserable

often the morning comes clear, you can acutally see the sky

and by mid-day you are hopeful, there is something good about today

but by two the rain is back, the day is black and despair is set

so there is not much to tell about the september rains

except, on the rare chance, i find you home alone

and the kids are still in class, and the dog is sleeping

and you have started lighting the fire, earlier each year,

your crime fiction novel half open in your lap

the story was always set somewhere in the states,

somewhere south like georgia,

you liked stories about the romantic savannah mansions

they’d be set back in the trees that are covered with spanish moss

and we’d spend a quiet hour, talking, waiting for the time to come

when i’d have to pick the girls up from school

and they would wake up the dog

then scatter their bags across the entire house

there is not much to tell about the rainfall in september

the rain comes often, it is cold and grey, wet and miserable

often the morning comes clear, you can acutally see the sky

and by mid-day you are hopeful, there is something good about today

but by two the rain is back, the day is black and despair is set

so there is not much to tell about the september rains

except, on the rare chance, i find you home alone

and the kids are still in class, and the dog is sleeping

and you have started lighting the fire, earlier each year,

your crime fiction novel half open in your lap

the story was always set somewhere in the states,

somewhere south like georgia,

you liked stories about the romantic savannah mansions

they’d be set back in the trees that are covered with spanish moss

and we’d spend a quiet hour, talking, waiting for the time to come

when i’d have to pick the girls up from school

and they would wake up the dog

then scatter their bags across the entire house

sleeping with the lights on

sleeping with the lights on

is a little like swimming in your clothes

it’s fun for a while

but there comes a point

when all you want to do

is glide easier through the water

so my wife put up some blinds

that were supposed to block out the sun

on top of the blinds she put up curtains

as a back-up contingency plan

should the blinds fail to do their job

but wouldn’t you know it,

there at the left edge of the blind

is a gap

and through that gap

the light comes streaming in

and the curtain stops a bit of it;

but there, right where my pillow is,

right where i put my head,

when I lie on my side,

is a band of sunlight.

so now, every morning, when i turn

i get a rude shocker

and am awake

sleeping with the lights on

is a little like swimming in your clothes

it’s fun for a while

but there comes a point

when all you want to do

is glide easier through the water

so my wife put up some blinds

that were supposed to block out the sun

on top of the blinds she put up curtains

as a back-up contingency plan

should the blinds fail to do their job

but wouldn’t you know it,

there at the left edge of the blind

is a gap

and through that gap

the light comes streaming in

and the curtain stops a bit of it;

but there, right where my pillow is,

right where i put my head,

when I lie on my side,

is a band of sunlight.

so now, every morning, when i turn

i get a rude shocker

and am awake

line them up

the musky high meadow grass stands yellow

under the sharp sun, distressed and fragile

the grasses give way to the starchy yellow wildflowers,

a long running stand of evergreen pines

is in the distance, hedging in the opening

and keeping the mice at bay.

the only thing causing a commotion

are the cars and caravans that come hammering

down the highway on the black top asphalt

and gravel edged road.

the grass, the flowers, the pines and the mice

have stood and grown, and foraged by day

and slept by night; all the while watching

the cars and the caravans hurtle their way

along the pavement.

if we were to line them up,

the grass, the flowers, the pines and the mice

line them up according to some scientific

logic and categories, would the cars come last?

i’d hate to think that when we are gone

that the mice, the flowers, the grasses and the pines

would be happy at our leaving

but somehow i know they would

the crom estate

 

we drove out to crom estate

about twenty miles or so, it was raining

off and on as we sped down the narrow

country lane, following the school bus

with no one in it, school was out.

we walked down to the small pier,

the pup pulled at his chain

panting, straining against the lead,

there were signs with maps,

one was covered in ants which

my daughter quickly smashed.

the small, yellow buttercups

covered the green fields, with

a white daisy here and there,

the grass was high, and soon enough

our shoes were soaked to our socks.

the castle ruins stood gaurd

at the edge of the lough, 

had been there since 1610,

built three years after the pilgrims

landed at Plymouth.

a stand of ancient alder trees

stood solidly, square around the yard,

their large, green canopies sheltered

us from the light rain.

the pup would go into the lough

after sticks, but he would only go

so far before turning back,

he is not quite a good swimmer; 

at least he is not afraid of the water.

we trudged back to the car,

all wet, damp clothes, it all

made the car fog over, it took

four minutes before i could see

enough to drive.

we drove out to crom estate

about twenty miles or so, it was raining

off and on as we sped down the narrow

country lane, following the school bus

with no one in it, school was out.

 

we walked down to the small pier,

the pup pulled at his chain

panting, straining against the lead,

there were signs with maps,

one was covered in ants which

my daughter quickly smashed.

 

the small, yellow buttercups

covered the green fields, with

a white daisy here and there,

the grass was high, and soon enough

our shoes were soaked to our socks.

 

the castle ruins stood gaurd

at the edge of the lough, 

had been there since 1610,

built three years after the pilgrims

landed at Plymouth.

 

a stand of ancient alder trees

stood solidly, square around the yard,

their large, green canopies sheltered

us from the light rain.

 

the pup would go into the lough

after sticks, but he would only go

so far before turning back,

he is not quite a good swimmer; 

at least he is not afraid of the water.

 

we trudged back to the car,

all wet, damp clothes, it all

made the car fog over, it took

four minutes before i could see

enough to drive.

the curse of the modern city

Lies in the way it disconnects us
The city seeps into the invisible cracks between us
And when frozen, wedge us apart

As I sit in my car, in traffic, you are five feet away
You might as well be across the universe
 
the bricks, the concrete, glass, metal and iron
The fumes, the noise, the writing on the wall

I mean, anywhere where a building can
Block out the sun and sky
Is a dangerous place to be

I think of the desert sky; clear, dark, packed with stars,
a bright moon bleaches the red, red sand into a pearly grey.

The screeching of tires brings me back

Around the corner (there are always corners)
There are no corners in nature

The asphalt covers the life-giving soil
Changing it forever into sterile soil

i wait in the pines

i left the beaten road at the bottom of the deep valley
the truck stood out against the trees for an hour
while i struggled to the top of the ridge
once i was over however, the truck dropped from sight,
i was alone for the first time that day

a solemnity steals over the forest, a growing silence
the further i go, the deeper i walk into the trees

and yet in the hush i can pick out the chittering
of a lone grey squirrel, the buzzing of a blue beetle
and the song of a black rosy finch calling out
all of these come together under the whipser of the wind
to ease my way around the massive red kaibab pines

a glance over my shoulder to the way i’ve come
the trail back has long since been lost in the pine needles

curving to match the ridge and not lose my way
a break in the pines offer a place to sit in the sun
or a view of the next few ridges yet to climb
it’s mid-day before i have a chance to rest and eat
two ham sandwiches, a pickle, and a small bag of chips

sitting in a small clearing watching the high clouds pass
waiting for just the right moment to get up and get going

i walk back through the red pines and scrub juniper
it’s not so quiet now, a small cloudburst is rushing up
the small box canyon, and the wind is coming at me
the breeze is cooler, i can smell the rain in the air
and i wait in the pines for the storm to arrive