Call off the dogs.
Stand down men,
The hunt has been suspended.
Lower your weapons,
Relax your jaws,
And open your fists.
Bury your accusations.
Tonight the finger pointing ends.
So stand down men,
Stand down.
Day: November 21, 2009
someday soon
poetryi met a girl in my dreams who whispered
in my ear as the wind picked up and
weaved and flowed beneath my hands
clung tight to the grips i’ve been holding
to keep me from falling off this cliff
and loosened it enough as a final re
minder that yes, indeed,
the time has come. do you want to
know what she said though? she said
“nín hǎo” and she was like
breathing on a window and drawing
a heart and seeing it there when
you wash your car. i swear, too,
that i saw her one day and i
feared i might lose my job
or my pride or my kids or
my wife or my mortage or
my bed or my blankets or
my sedentary life-style if i
went up to her and said “hi.”
so i didn’t,
but i will.
Every time we do this, something happens.
poetryThree hours under hot lights does
funny things to your thought-process.
Soon it’s keys and notes and stops and
starts and ones and twos and threes and
fours and then it’s nothing.
Nothing but the melody.
(and, perhaps, a bit of rhythm)