shoots and stems

turned stones
grubby nails
curious, green and tender
like shoots and stems
reaching out small fingers
towards the sun
my students search
scouring the familiar yard
the old haunts
for new poetry

dear today

dear today
i wanted to thank you
so many intriguing gifts
must not be ungraciously received.
i thought the mouse
delivered by a 5th grader
which was so carefully wrapped in a trash can
was perhaps
the most thoughtful.
its wide black eyes
held me transfixed
vexed.
the doors
the green doors
which i see you have seen fit
to ensure that no matter what
no matter who
or when
or why
or how often they are painted
will never, ever
be the same shade of green
inspire me.
you blessed me
with the old men
neighborhood vagrants
who loiter during the children's games
they are full of wisdom
and beetlenut.
but mostly
thanks for caring.
thank you for remembering me
for knowing that the regular fare
the usual bits
will not do for me
for taking the time to make every moment

personalized.

yours truly
the red mohawked one

Celestial

You girl, still got me running
holding still, bleeding or gunning
either way, most every day
I spend the morning hours
visiting your slender fingers
with my own
My memory sharpens
Images as sharp as surg'ry tools
manipulate my ever beating heart
I make a secret fool of me

You are a star, I am the night
I try to hold you but the light
you're always searching for
causes your shining eyes to disappear
I have not loved another
in the black absence
of your illuminating presence
Try as one might
when determined
to escape the press of certainty
around him
saturating every thought
of satisfaction
It's as though your orbit
only brings us close together
every little while
and even then
it's not as close as I would like.