Every day
I'm learning
That I
Am less
And less
Worthy.

The God on High
Who made me
Is too perfect
For my mortal mind
To comprehend.

But not to accept.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder
For there will be one that's even longer.
And what kind of friend could I claim to be
If all that I asked was always for me?

Pacific Ocean, 1945

All's fair
In love and war.
Break the wound.
Rent the scar.

Just war,
Holy battle,
What does it matter
If we lose the cattle?

Bomb, bleed,
And burn so fast.
How they pay
To make it last.

An hour, a day,
Oh how we fall
Answering, of course,
To duty's call.

Dulce et
Ducorum est
Pro patria mori
So give your best.

A tear in the universe.
A great big tear.

Hanging from her face
Like a blue and tragic prism
The bears all the sorrows
Imaginable.

How to Sign "Poem"

I found the lost poem!

Take your right hand.
Place it over your heart.

Now clench it
And in one swift motion,
Toss your hand to the right,
Letting your hand unfurl.

It literally means:
"To throw the heart"

But the standard meaning
Is "Poem."

So every time
You read these scattered letters
You're catching a heart.

Maybe you should listen.

There was a poem
On the t-t-tip
Of my tongue.

But now,
It's gone.

au revoir

A Rock

"Emotional range of a rock."
You said so yourself.
But please humor
My heart-born ideas
Once in a while.

Aren't you lucky.
There's so much pain
That you get to
Skip out on.

So much irrationality
Is inaccessible to you.

I've seen you smile.
I've seen you frown.
Eyebrows furrowing
And lips twisting
Communicate annoyance.

But I've never seen you laugh.
I've never seen you cry.

As I lick my old and festering wounds
And recent scratches you laid,
I pity you.

I Sat on the Porch

I sat on the porch
And cried three tears
Because the back fence
Was maybe ten steps away.

And I remember an old yard
That took
A journey over mountains
Across lava
Through a jungle
And to battle with a dragon

Before I reached even sight
Of the fence,
Over which I quickly jumped
And was on to the next adventure.

A Poem or a Hallelujah

How do you now see the mask
When you've been allowed behind the facade?
How do you re-learn
Not to view pain?

And then you doubt your eyes,
Because you know yourself.
You know your crazed mind.

You are a poet.
You comprehend that masks
Aren't always masks.

So to see a smile,
On the face that five minutes previous
Was pondering the complexities and
Hypocrisies
Of a smile, draws concern.

The thoughts whirl
And lead to the only
Possible conclusions:
A poem or a hallelujah.

Which do you prefer?

For the past cannot be factored
Into this equation,
Only the opinion of your soul.
Because poems,
Hallelujahs,
Will accept you
With all the cracks and tears
You can gather

Because the breaks
Make their utterance
That much sweeter

Tears

I said it was
Like one of those nicks
Where it might bleed
At first
But after a few quick licks
And a few dramatic tears
It's alright.

I lied though.

It was more like
The tear of a dress
Over which we sob
We wail
But quickly dry our tears,
Laying the dress aside
To rarely touch again.

Because what if,
While trying to fix it,
You tear it more?

Let the tiredness
Fall away.

Let the aches
Subside.

I want to rest.
Sleep needs to come
But it eludes
As the pain dances
Across the body.