i’m looking for the face i had before the world was made
I was the primordial flaring forth, the gravitational waves,
the whirling galaxies, and the exploding supernovas that would become stars and planets.
I was the steaming planet Earth, the bacteria awash in the sea, and the early eukaryotes and multicellular animals.
I exploded in the Cambrian explosion, stumbled onto land, walked with dinosaurs,
saw trees and flowers appear, walked upright in Africa, and walked on the moon.
I felt the embrace of gravity. I was one with all that had been and all that was to be.

The moon shone bright that night

Beautiful and full.
I can still picture it.
It was magical the way the light danced.
It swallowed every star in the sky
In its majestic glow.

Tonight, however, the moon is gone.
I don’t know where it went.
I wish it would come back
To light up the darkness like it once did
But wherever it’s gone, I hope it’s happier there.

I may never see that light again,
It may never again shine on my face
Like it did that night,
But at least now
I’m able to appreciate the beauty of the stars.

Her Candle

So many candles I’ve never burned.
A marriage candle,
two first communion candles from my kids,
a bicentennial candle,
millennium candle.
So many candles I’ve never burned.

Her candle I’ve burned for over twenty years,
not every day, but most every day.
A memory of what once was,
of what we had
me and her,
her candle.
Originally voluptuously large,
beautifully ornate,
burning bright hot and fast.
We were young then. 

Gradually her candle grew old,
became hollow.
Most of the outside still holding fast,

Absolute
Black and White –
Resolute
Adamic domicile.
A black storm
Veiling blue sky.
Thin ray
Cast from persistent
Sun steadily
Erodes
Status quo and
Dubious good.
With sunlight
Upon crystalline
Droplets,
Rainbow backdrops
A dove fleeing
Noah’s flood with
Olive branch
Ushering in
An inclusive
Love and a
Greater good.

Saturday April 17

You are my Lode Star

in the morning dawning light
you are always there
you are my lode star
my sunshine, my moonshine
the love of my life, my wife
with your endless love
I will face the evil corrupted world
even walk through the shadow of death
as long as you by my side
I will fear no evil for you are with me
and I will love you
until death takes me
from your your loving embrace


another Nigerian spam found poem

the Nigerians keep sending me
and millions of others

April 13 Poems

I believe in ghosts

I used to not believe
in ghosts or spirits
or supernatural phenomenon

at least
i used to be
quite skeptical

but I have had
some weird encounters
over the years

so now perhaps
I do believe
that ghosts might be real

I have had supernatural
experiences
things that defy my understanding

back in 1992
My Korean Uncle-in-law died
and the family hired a shaman

did a traditional shaman ritual
the shaman came out
a middle age woman

she started speaking

Sadness, despair, depression, madness
Are the words that entrap my mind when looking at the bland brown house.
The one house with all grey walls.
The one with the single tan car going back and fourth.
The one where even when we exited our drought, no bright flowers began to sprout.
The one that belongs to a dear Ms. Sky.

My new job started normal, until I met my boss - Ms. Sky.
After that the day was complete utter madness.
Nothing still has yet to sprout.
At Ms. Sky’s house.
I was meant to be at her office first, but I ended up being fourth.

Vigil


The woman climbs into bed with her sleeping husband,
as she’s done thousands of times, though never in a bed
seven stories above streets dusted with ice crystals and cinders.
Sounds of the unit at night: beeps, the rustle of sheets,
a fan dispersing heat evenly in the room.
We can’t know what dreams infuse the woman’s sleep.
When dawn comes, she may give no thought to the empty house,
miles from here, where they raised their children,
watched them fly away to Manhattan and LA.
The house will be there when all this is done,