The fish in the pond
are still — the water
being below forty-
five degrees. They
are protected by
a blanket of leaves
held in place by
a net. Once in a
while, when the
fickle, early, spring
temperature rises,
one or two of
the fish sneak
around the net
swim above the
blanket and look
things over. When
the temperature
and snow flakes
fall, the fish beat
a retreat to their
cozy place, just
like we do as we
look out the
window in anti-
cipation and a
bit of frustration.

He jogged along a well-known trail
he had jogged upon before,
but as the shadows lengthened,
alarmed, he sensed a dark horror.

He stopped and listened to the wind
ripping strongly through the trees.
He looked both ways at shadows stark.
He wanted to run but could only freeze.

A dark cloud, so ominous
looked like a rattle snake’s shape
diving down from high above
it was then he jumped awake.

Are these dreams to awaken the soul
toward things in life to reconcile
or are they there to scare us blind
but open eyes to avoid life’s guile?

Are bad dreams a vehicle of grace
helping us do salvation’s task
turning us toward eternity’s face
of peace, justice, mercy that lasts?

It is his hope that God will turn
his bad dreams to mercy plans.
It is for sweet dreams that he yearns.
and yet, if it be God’s will,
he’ll gladly return to the trail
upon which he ran.

while eyebrows were raised,
the leader claimed excellence.
his base affirmed him.
the vast majority cringed
at plans deemed purely ersatz.

to put it nicely…
ersatz — a euphemism
for nature’s refuse:

    they stand Strong
in opposition wHile
      the constItution 
      suffers aTtack.

Even though spring, the god of winter
would not retreat but blew frigid air
from the north over the Big Lake which
rolled and roiled and the god roared
defiance in the face of inevitability —
a lost cause, but the god of winter
would “not go gentle into that good”
…spring

The three photos had been patched
into one, long before it could be
easily done on the computer — three

faces of handsome men, all about
the same age — two round faces,
one with thick, wavy, blond hair,

one with thick, wavy, black hair
and one long, slim face with thick,
straight, black hair. The slim

faced one was the father and the
two round-faced ones were his
sons. The slim faced one died

when the two round-faced ones
were thirteen and eleven. The
two round-faced ones were separat-

ed, never to be reunited, when
they were eight and six at the
time of their round-faced, thick,

wavy, blond-haired mother’s death
along with her stillborn baby girl
who, if she had lived, would have

been round-faced or slim-faced with
thick, wavy blond or black hair.
Someone patched the three faces

together maybe imagining what
they would look like if they all
had lived and were a happy family

except the mother and the still-
born, baby girl were missing from
the faux, family photo.

As a I read a Whitmanish
poem about the city, detailing
the “building and breaking”
as she put it, the dirty, gritty
place where big machines
roam like dinosaurs and people
move and breathe and thrive
and are broken like concrete,
I saw a female cardinal fly into
the bush outside my window,
flit and fly off to find her mate
and I gave thanks for my wooded,
rural residence and then a big
garbage truck roared past and
in my pristine, wooded, rural
residence I felt the poem in my
bones, many of which have
been broken like the concrete
streets of New York City,
Detroit and Chicago.

i have been reading
poems in the asian genre
and i have noticed
that haikus are irregular
and that goes for tankas, too.

the above tanka
has the correct syllables,
as does this haiku, too.

that last syllable —
“too” is one too many words
for it to be true.

When he read the words 
     “she’s in the emergency room,”
on a note left on the kitchen table, 
time all but stopped...
          moving instantly to slow.
                                   .
                                    . 
                                     motion 
and wouldn’t resume at a
           nearly normal speed 
                             for at least
                                         two.
                                             .
                                              . 
                                               years. 
It had happened before... 
and he was frightened 
it was happening again - 
                       the dawning of descent into 
                                                  abrupt, 
                                                  sudden, 
                                                  cruel, 
                                                  darker-
                                                  than-
                               the ninth circle of hell 
                                         
                                         DEATH
  
      screaming, ricocheting in his head, heart, 
                       marrow of his bones, very soul... 
                              
                                 but so it was.

The flotsam — yes,
Just accidentally got away from the ship.
The jetsam — yes,
Was tossed over and abandoned by the ship.
And the state of the Ship of State?
There’s a lot of flotsam and jetsam
Polluting the ever more turbulent seas.
Can the fragile, listing ship be righted?
Is there still time
To save the Ship of State and right it?
Or will it founder and sink
In the ever more turbulent seas?

For the umpteenth time, dad forgot
to pick up his daughter from the
grade school, which is just around
the corner from where he works.
He ran to the school to find the
girl sitting all by herself on the
front steps of the school all the
other students having left. “Sorry,
sweetie. Would like to stop at the
bakery for a donut and a hot
chocolate?” Half way through the
donut, his daughter said, “Dad,
it is nice of you to buy me a donut
when you forget to pick me up
from school and I do love you,
but could you try a little harder
to remember to pick me up?”
Dad winced and said, “I’m
sorry, babe. I’ll do better.” Then
she finished the donut and
drank the hot chocolate. “And
don’t worry,” she said, “”I won’t
tell mom about the donut and
I will do better about
eating all my dinner.”