"When power leads man toward arrogance, poetry reminds him of his limitations. When power narrows the areas of man's concern, poetry reminds him of the richness and diversity of his existence. When power corrupts, poetry cleanses, for art establishes the basic human truths which must serve as the touchstone of our judgment." - John F. Kennedy

Thanks for finding me. This is a fairly random sampling of my poetic rumblings beginning in the mid-70s to present day. Not definitive or complete, just things that struck me again for one reason or another on revisiting. There are a couple of previously published collections here which might be good places to start if you are diving in blind from the precipice.

Try the collections MEET THE BEATS or GLIMMERING RAY DUET (both archived in June 2008 in the menu below right) for starters if you are so inclined...

As of 2016, I will be publishing my song lyrics on a seperate page from the more poetic scribblings here. Pieces that first appeared here and then later were arranged for music will remain here in their original form but may appear edited on the lyric page. Check out the links section for the original song blog.

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

THE EMPTY GOWN

The tan towels I bought you
Hang like an empty gown
Folded
Waiting
Never worn
As if there was some prom we never went to
Some future we never dove into
Some dream we wake from in bed alone.
Behind my bedroom door
Staring down on the sheets we stained with our love
Our tears
Where our laughter and orgasmic sighs filled the air
Hang my camo pjs and a fleece of mine you wore once
On one of the last nights you spent here
Remnants of some bygone age
When dreams of a glorious future in your arms
Still woke me each morning
Still invaded my waking moments
With hopeful smiles
Emboldened flirtations
Shivering anticipation of every new next time.

And still
Just now at 2:46 a.m.
A car pulls up the street
Probably someone made the wrong turn
Pulling over to check their GPS
Or answer their cell or light their joint
They pause in front of my house
Near the spot in the yard
In the garden named after you
Where I dug through dirt
Sifted rock and sand
Scattered seed, sprinkling new small pools of hope
Putting my focused, attentive, loving care
Towards something outside of me
Some small hole in the ground
And dreaming the idea of some future
Some possible blooming
A hope for color, sound and surprise
An echo of your first real kiss in eleven years
Around some distant corner in time…
But no matter
Those 8 hours I put in on this Wednesday
Not "Our Wednesday" but Wednesday none-the-less
6 months and a day after I first laid eyes on you
Tumbling
Into what likely will be my final stab
At realizing the love I’ve dreamed of
Since I caught wind of such magical ideas
Chasing them nearly 6 decades hence.

Still my heart momentarily races
Even with the knowing that it made no logical sense
That you’d pull into my driveway in the middle of the night
That you’d knock on my door
Or walk in as always jumping at the alarm
Into the house where we consumed each other
Every chance we could
And tonight, again you’d fall into my arms for good
Or for just one more chance ten more minutes
Just one more kiss
But my heart still raced ever so briefly
Hoping
Wishing
Yearning
Loving
The possibility
of you.

 - for my Beautiful Baby, September 17, 2015.
Scribbled on the couch where I lie waiting.
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