This is the poem to carry with you for emergencies,
like the spare batteries and extra gas you pack
when you drive into the wilderness.
When you discover you are lost,
you can press any word in this poem
and walk beside calm waters.
This poem does not have
water, food, shelter or energy bars but
courage is hidden in every line.
Before you crumple up this poem,
(feeling danger in every direction),
remember Love’s gift to you:
your next breath.
FEWalls
She walks toward the librarian,
pausing, breathless, from
the long climb to the library.
Outside the fog hides
the golf course,
inside the library, shelter, warmth.
She says to the librarian,
“Here, first time,”
pointing around the room.
She says,
“Show me, please, this book,”
pointing to the paper in her hand.
Printed neatly in ink
the paper says,
“Grief and Depression.”
She says,
“Help me, please,
if you can.”
“When you can do this for me?”
“You can do this for me now?”
FEWalls
The breeze from the ocean
touches the curtain,
pulling and pushing.
The woman lies on her side
in the bed by the open window;
the muggy air breathes in and out.
In her fortress, she waits for her lover
and his sure hand
on the curve of her body.
She will roll over soon
reach for the blue rose,
loosen her dark hair.
Somewhere in Santiago de Cuba
a man puts out his cigarette,
closes a door and
drives toward the woman
as the gulls
fly up before him.
FEWalls
Today, I have the day to myself.
Let’s try something new. Let’s not rush.
In Interplay, we give structure, then improvise and then notice what happened.
Today, I will notice what happens.
Just hedge a bit, he said.
Love can be bloody or sane. No need to
say the truth, cruel as it may be.
Be kind. Sanctify the moment, m’dear.
Be blasé. Be real.
Leap into the next moment with abandon.
Laugh at fate, at destiny! Embrace
change like Heraclitus. Feel the
joy spinning at the top of the Eiffel Tower, at
the 360 degree view.
In the labyrinth,
you are stuck with dead –ends
and disappointments. Remember Paris,
and the fun of being with the statue
of Cupid and Psyche, the lovers
forever in their embrace.
FEWalls
The sparkling woman dances with the man,
flask in his pocket;
she closes her eyes and smiles frantically to the music.
At the microphone, Annie sings the “Girl from Ipanema”
and then the “Waters of March.”
The bar is a belly in turmoil,
inhabiting the dragons,
Huff and Puff.
Outside. There is no outside.
The bird with the red throat
trills from the painting on the wall.
The guitarist and Annie duet themselves
to the clatter chatter.
The woman who sparkles knows where this is headed.
FEWalls
A Long Perspective 