The Broken and The Holy

The shovel

returns you

to dirt today

You will

sleep well

Better than

you ever

did on earth

How can I reverse time

to tell Crystal

all the things I meant

to say

sometime?

How do I reverse time

after the final breath

to say I love you

I need you

I want you to be

part of my life

always?

After 3 poetry books published this year

my poetry engine

died.

My friend Ted tells me to get my poetry engine started

by buying 4 or 5 kinds

of tasty liquor then sit down

and drink 6 to 12 drinks

until poetry

starts pouring out.

Sebrena says to have some exciting experiences

to see if I can start

my poetry engine.

She says she can suggest

some experiences

to get poems

flowing

once

again.

Mikey says

just sit for days

with pencil and paper

until the poetry

bleeds from

my veins.

Anybody anywhere

have other ways

to crank up

my poetry engine?

I need to keep my

poetry engine running.

I fear it will become

rusty and can’t be fixed.

She sits on the beach

at twilight

waiting for

someone

anyone

with a friendly smile

and warm words

No one stops

She appears homeless

She made her home

the beach and

a nearby park where

she sleeps on sand

or a bench in the park

with newspapers

over her to stay warm

She works all day

at a sports bar

serving coffee

hamburgers

sea food

She listens to others

works gracefully

showing kindness

and offering encouragement

Her customers ask for her

and laugh with her

and joke with her

She is lovely

so lovely

No one invites her out

They think she must

have a partner

Guys think

she’ll turn them down

Some customers

call her their psychologist

since she listens intently

and offers common sense solutions

This is what

no

one

knows —

She takes food

left on plates

to eat after work

She makes leftover food

last until she works

the next day

She wears colorful clothing

from Salvation Army stores

She makes worn out clothes

look good

No

one

knows

her

night-life

You will find her

sitting on the beach

alone beginning at twilight

No one slows down to talk

She sees herself

a toss away

from three broken marriages

of abusive alcoholic spouses

She makes people laugh

and feel loved

will anyone

sit and talk with her

cry with her

and dream with her

of a new future

Once I stopped

and asked if she could

use a little company

She broke into tears

then said

no one ever offered

to sit with me

I learned her name

Connie

She is a God fearing woman

praying for others

in need

She had names on a napkin

to pray for

She never prayed for herself

Before I left

Connie asked to pray for me

taking my hand in hers

and praying a comforting prayer

As I think about her

tonight

I find myself

praying for her

remembering her holding my hand

I mentally place her hand in mine

as I pray for her

and not for

myself

I wanted to be a beatnik

missed that

then thought I’d be a hippie

I flew to Greenwich Village

with a guitar and

duffle bag filled with belongings

rented a cheap hotel room

met poets and wannabe singers

who later became household names

with books published and

record deals

 

 

I was too insecure

to read my poetry

or sing my songs

maybe it was

never meant to be

 

 

I’m returning to

Greenwich  village

 

I’m feeling more confident

it’s time to try again

this time I’ll take my guitar

and sing my songs

and read my poetry

 

I still remember how to play

the guitar chords

C, F and G7.

those chords work for

most songs

 

be sure to

listen for me on

satellite radio!