thunderstorm eighteen

blue harmonica dreams
stream across grey burlap eyes, 

soothe with nuance softness 

ears pointed toward distant sky 

fields of grace aplenty
washed clean, noontime weep 

the furrows gush a murky blood 

into willing earth tears seep 

the day of welcome wanes, dust beckons 

the lights dim, sun rises on
another's land melting cloudy
on oklahoma's rim 

(age 18, 1985)

froze eighteen

cautiously crossing the barbed wire fence
their eyes scanned the diamonded landscape,
december first. all trees and berried bushes
twinkled richly under the icy coat of morning rain.
as they walked the crunching meadow
the guns they held hung limply at ease by their sides
casual rambling stride through an ocean
of crackling glass stirred the
grazing doe from midday feast and it bounded
skyward one ,two, three
it was safe as ken squeezed
a trigger on safety 

(age 18, 1985)

angst of eighteen

sing a song O bright green days
when light flows pink about the end of the maze
and ground underfoot is moist but firm
the soil feeds richly all needy that yearn
O show us this world
we all know it exists where money means nothing
&justice persists, we read but who writes
of such fabulous tales
in this day of starving children blown lost
by a gale, O where find decency
in a land of heart held fallacy
where rises among rubble the palaces,
look quickly----for night brings out death,
the sunset marks our next last breath
but they'll write and relate all thru our sleep
create nightmares of cliffs & fated leaps
O lucky for those who croak ever young,
bitter lies never eat at their tongues

(age 18, 1985)

round eighteen

the earth is round
but you can't touch the people
and the seas are wet
but you can't know yourself
the sun is warm
but you won't die in your sleep
and the sky is big but yer dreams are bigger
and harder to crush, realize & live with.

(age 18, 1985)

dreaming baby eighteen

i was riding second class youth eurail
amsterdam to geneva, two german
girls or silly women were sitting next to me
speaking to one another
giggling with furtive glances at me.
do you speak english? smile,
laugh, side to side nod no,
just a bit. oh.
i curled up in my space
a fetal position hands cupped to breast
content on my face sleep in my eye
shortly i awoke to hear snort snort stifle
why do you laugh? they reply,
blush of flirtation, you look like a
dreaming baby. slow bumpy
train ride, air so sweet.

(age 18, 1985)

dismal edge at eighteen

the pull of the tide, moons strength on earth 

minute organisms and bonding glue
that dissolves in death  

          spray of grey ocean 

as i wandered sickly into the dark 

the ferry ship bridging peoples twixt                         drought& rain                             

after train ride from dublin to rosslare 

trench coats with collars stiffly angled, 

wandering beach driftwood smooth from battering slams 

          soft thru relentless beating  

 

waters fist
pearly white baby ears, macaroni shells 

whatever i wrote in natures chalkboard
          &how long did it stand? 

 

was the cauliflower growing
over the gloomy grey swirl merely another ferry 

chugging steamy or was it offspring of yet more 

driving dismal edge depleting
water pounding loves?  

(age 18, 1985)