POETRY
Burning Snow presents a collection of poems and lyrics I have written over the years.I have included a small sample below.While poems and lyrics are listed in different sections of the book, the lyrics may just as well be called poems. In fact, some people may find them more “poetic” since they tend to rhyme. My themes range far and wide–from portraits of people I have found fascinating to meditations on climate change and cosmic mysteries. My poetic “voices" are varied. Most are accessible to virtually any reader. A few are more challenging; let’s call them“linguistically deconstructive.” In any case, poetry has no less to say to those who care to listen than it ever did. And the state of the world should suggest to us the importance of listening
REUNION

For Gaylon Currie

Wherever I watered the smooth, worked earth
That was to be my garden,
White worms rose to drink. With a light-fearing reluctance
They writhed up crumbs of loam
Until they shone on the wet, black dirt like blind stars.

Heavy-lidded shrub lizards, weirder than quarks
Or Persia, gave those worms the ancient eye,
Then descended with polite plops
To gobble up the heavens.

“Grazing my lizard herd,” I deadpanned
As you arrived, your arms around huge chunks
Of my past and cold beer. You blinked,
Stared like a great, wise reptile
And then, for no earthly reason other than love,
Almost believed me.

And that is it, old friend,
That despite everything you come with your hands
Held out to me,
Offering spirits, expecting magic,
Full of dark, thirsty brilliance.

All afternoon we leaned together,
Two shepherds of absurdity
Gathering about us like well-worn cloaks
The ragged meanings of our quest,
Drinking with the worms and stars.
All Things Are Beautiful (lyrics)
a tree uprooted by the wind
a baby’s crippled foot
a hornet’s nest, a bitter pill
a gate that will not shut
a rockslide on a rainy road
when you are all alone
a spider web across your face
a salesman on the phone
all things are beautiful if you love them
a thankless deed, a stubborn weed
the work that you must do
the pothole-ridden journey
from your false self to your true
a puzzle with one missing piece
that never comes to light
the blinding sun, a thorny rose
the coming of the night
all things are beautiful if you love them
the loneliness unthinkable
of stars out in the deep
the pain that keeps you living
the life you trade for sleep
all the ones who picked you up
then gently put you down
a cave of bats, a jellyfish
the traffic in your town
all things are beautiful if you love them
returning from a business trip
I passed a cooling tower
with a ghostly plume of steam above
produced by nuclear power
across the road by a vacant church
where lovers used to wed
I saw some words on a faded sign
for a troubled world which read:
all things are beautiful if you love them
all things are beautiful if you love them
WEDDING DAY
She married in a lovely yellow sheath dress
That nevertheless made her situation clear enough.
Not a wedding she would have planned:
The library of a Unitarian church,
Her two tall, judgmental sisters, her mother, making
The dramatically obvious best of it, her dad, kind as
Always, but ephemeral in his puzzling illness.
An unmarried friend, Carla, more pregnant
Than herself, as maid of honor. The groom, of course.
One of two men she might have married−both offered.
She chose the one more likely to be the father.
The right or wrong thing to do?
Now she wasn’t sure. But even so,
She’d rather die than fake her vows.
His best man was a fat and shaggy-headed
Boy she’d never met before, who, of all people there,
Seemed happiest for her. Afterwards, back
At the house, she thought she saw him
Fall in love with her; was almost sure of it.
That’s all it takes, she surmised, and here we are.
The honeymoon: a Hilton Garden Inn
Weekend getaway compliments of Carla’s baby daddy.
They skipped the pool, she cried a lot,
Not trying to hide it. Her new husband
Said sweeter things than she could remember,
Laid his head gently on her tummy.
It helped, but to be honest what helped more
Was his army enlistment, the certainty he’d soon be gone.
Not gone forever; she didn’t want that.
Just gone for a while so she could measure
Things in peace, tell the baby her life story,
Spend time with Dad. You never know.
For a while she sat on the tiny balcony, her new
Husband asleep or pretending, midnight laughter
Funneling up from poolside. Someday I will
Be forty-five, she thought with sudden relief,
All this will be settled somehow. Between now
And then I will make myself wiser and wiser.
And with a little care, I will still be beautiful.