To Get Things Done



It’s all an illusion: to carry a
Coffee full and fret a
Little if it will drop on the white
Rug or if it will scorch your
Tongue. Eventually every cup
Goes cold and empty, just dregs
And those impatient jitters
To get things done, hop on the
To do list and move.

That’s best: don’t
Sit too still in the
Early morning breeze inside the
Screened-in lie of
Beforehands. Better to drown out
The siren sweeties calling out
Their what-ifs with the
Hammering bills of the
Pecker finding breakfast inside
The dead. … Read on…To Get Things Done

A Purple House

Try to guess the color of the
Next house you see and even if you are
Four you won’t probably say “lilac” — which isn’t quite
The right word for the shade of the
Purple house in New Jersey that is a
Waterfall of love. All over the
Hardwoods flows the feet the feet
Coming and going with just some
Impulse, desire, to ask, to draw
To make, to tell, to go, to climb, to
Dress up and all over and up and down in
Endless circles the old house moves
With him and her and her and him
And one chasing the other, all before the
Addled countenance of one misunderstood
Dog.

And nothing is right cornered and
The smooth granite counters make less
Sense than the mismatched stools. And
All of it waits for the tone-hollow and perfect
Tune with made-up lyrics that
Floats like seaweed from the top of the stairs, held
Inside the walls of the house
A shade of a purple which
Isn’t lilac. … Read on…A Purple House

On the Verge


We are all on the verge
Of something. Like the serene
Beagle standing so still at the
End of his leash, yet shivering
For the ripe time to snatch
That little boy’s dangling sandwich.

We are on the verge of
Swatting the unexpected
Gnat, smashing quick out the
Light of some soul ambling
By just to enjoy our hyacinth
Perfume.

We are all on the verge of tossing
Up our hands and saying
What is the use of these
Shackles I’m dragging, except to
Warn you all I am coming?

We are all on the verge of
Goodbye. We are all on the
Verge of falling
Into the next quicksand. We are
All. All. On the
Edge, the verge, the
Precipice looking down and
Not seeing anything at all,
Not even noticing each other’s
Warm life hanging in the icy air.

We are all on the verge
Together and
Together we are
Ready to jump. … Read on…On the Verge