Who is Evil

August 26, 2008

Ask anyone
inside a circle,
they will tell you
who is evil.

Ask anyone
outside a circle,
they will tell you
who is evil.

the mountains

August 12, 2008

the mountains watch us
grandparents in a chair
we play at their feet

anniversary

August 11, 2008

two-trees.jpg

so many years
I knew all along
we were made to last

artist: Bruce Wood

ADD ambulance

July 30, 2008

Hello ADD ambulance, Dave speaking…
Wait – let me get a pencil.

Ok, where was that?
Ok, we’re on our way.

Let’s go – heart attack –
43 Sechrist .

Sechrist or Sea Crest?

Shit. I’m not sure.
Shit! We’re on empty.

Good, I need coffee.

Shit. I need smokes.

Can you?

July 22, 2008

travel each new day
without thinking
you are better
or less than others.

Is he gay?

June 25, 2008

Is he gay?
Is she gay?
Who cares…

Dad Wore Hats

June 15, 2008

Not when he should have.

On a cold bright day
he would call out
where is your hat?
while the wind played
in his hair.

Nor the way he should have.

It was always
crunched atop his head
by a nephew or daughter
running around our backyard
at a picnic.

Nor what he should have.

Into the dewy night
the adults would sing
heads touching in harmony
dad smoking a Chesterfield
wearing a bonnet.

As a young boy, I did not know what was going on in the classroom. There was no such thing as ADHD or LD back then. It was dismissed as laziness or stupidity. Participles, logarithms, declension, reading, speed, memorization, and athletic coordination – I was always on shaky ground.

My handwriting was neanderthal and my study habits avoidant. I spent my school days furtively staring out big windows. Birds were my envy as they flew across the ever changing sky. On dreary wet days I turned to my pencil (missile) and pen (rocket ship).

I was the oldest of two, then three, then four, then five, then six, and later seven. It became progressively easier to underachieve in this burgeoning post war blue collar Catholic family.

My dad worked three jobs. Mom cooked, sewed, scrubbed, ironed, washed, mopped, and all the while monitored an ever expanding gaggle of robust strong willed children . We eventually overwhelmed her resources. We were like big fleshy ants.

Play and television were my refuge. The tube allowed me to escape instantly. Far away places, adventure, and fame were my fantasies. I would spend hours in bed before sleep concocting gallant stories in my mind with me as the intrepid hero.

My favorite thing of all was Boy Scouts. It allowed me to go camping and play with fire – to go away and have adventure – to take on whatever nature could dish out. It taught me I could do things well. I learned stuff like Morse code and survival skills. I became Order of the Arrow and attended National Leadership Camp. Too bad I let my buddies talk me into quitting.  They thought boy scouts was uncool.

I traded confidence and growth for “cool”.   It was like trading hiking boots for hair gel.

one
grieving mother

diminishes
the multitude of smiles

gangsters and sluts

May 11, 2008

If you worship gangsters
you get more gangsters

If you worship sluts
you get more sluts