Unreadiness

Every few minutes, a train comes by.
Some people get off, some get on.
One soul, laden with baggage
Watches, going nowhere.

He waits, as he has for years,
For "his" train to arrive.
He frets that he forgot to pack
His dress shoes, his belt.

He checks his schedule (faded, torn).
He looks at his watch (unwound).
"Are we there yet?" asks his inner child
(Hungry, impatient).

Thank God I came prepared, he thinks,
And knew what to expect.
He sets his collar against the rain,
His mind against reality, and waits.

I Feel, Too

Too big and too small
Too smart and too dumb
Too selfish, too giving
To keep living.

Too wealthy, too poor
Too handsome, too plain
Too normal, too strange
To change.

Too soulful, too vapid
Too lonely, too crowded
Too strong and too weak
To seek.

Mother's Day 2006

Mother Stands For Comfort
She Holds Up Our Clouds
Keeps Our Feet on the Ground

Mother Stands Far Away
Under Cloudless Prairie Skies
Till Our Feet Take Us Back:

Keep Her Safe

-- Sean & KJ, with a nod to Kate Bush

What game are we playing?

May I read the rules?
Are there dice, or a spinner?
Some scorekeeping tools?

Reread the objective--
To do as we will?
I can't see me winning;
I haven't the skill.

This game is confusing
And lonely as hell!
Let's just play the old game--
We know it so well.

Having a bad time, wishing you were here

The simple misery of your company
Your siren's song, in its angry beauty
Our rush to empty ourselves in each other
To hide and be seen, to shout and be ignored

The blurring of my hopes and fears
Your desperate grin, so fixed and taut
The whirlwind waltz on bleeding feet
Stops; we cross our heart, and hope to die

Auto Eroticism

I put piston, transmission fluid,
and hot air into this gal.

Now, she sucks
as if I'm the lemon!

My body pleases me--your body, too.
Abundant, not excessive, pulchritude;
Adornments, imperfections: your tattoo,
The dimple in your ass (not to be rude).
My body wants to be with yours--and yet
My mind prefers to be alone, or in
The company of other minds. Beset
By this dilemma, lonesome, I turn in.
In dreams, I speak to you; I am your friend.
You stimulate my mind, as we pursue
A goal or an idea as an end.
Awakening, I seek the end of you.
We need to stop--or start. We need to blend
Our visions--and our passions, to renew.