Untitled Poems
(A few selected poems)

Completed 1987, 149 pages

Day comes up and
Day goes down
We get lost in our love
And need to be found.


I sometimes think a professional writer
Is a lot like a professional lover.


Crowded, yet warm
A fall morning
With leaves blowing
Disguised with hues
Of telling tones
To winter.
Altogether, jostling
And discussing
Rustling during
Rush hour amid
The energy;
All piled together
In purpose.
The day awaits.


We were fighting
And working
I was shouting
You were pointing
Things were getting done,
And undone,
Things were left to tomorrow
And finished yesterday
The emotions were of the brink
We needed time to think
But instead
W e plowed ahead.
The early evening was all wrong
But the night
Feels just right.


Hey, Dad
You still live in me,
I remember the little
Things you said
And the little things
You did.
The other things that
Other people remember
Mean little to me.
As I age you grow
Younger and I
Love you more and more.
Hey, Dad,
You still live in me.


I see you.
I hold you.
In my thoughts, securely.
I love you.

You are a future
I never dreamed of.

In my limited
And too-near vision
I never thought
Of something so clean,
So wonderful,
So new.

You must have been
A silent wish, a prayer,
I never voiced,
But always held so
Close like a hope
So dear that it
Was way, way inside.

Now, you are on solid ground.
We are waiting, and
I know you already,
In the many thoughts
And in faith fo so
Many lonely years.

You are my daughter.
You are my blithe spirit
Coming home again.

(Written January 16, 1982, 20 days before she was born.)


My daughter, Blythe,
Was born yesterday.
Although she's now
Only 3 and a half hours old.
It's strange to love
Two women now and
Not have to hide.
I love Blythe and Joy,
My daughter and
My wife.

(Written February 6, 1982, 12:30 a.m.)


You take your chance in love
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows.

Somedays everything's all right.
Somedays everyone's uptight.
Sometimes all you do is love and kiss.
Sometimes all you do is wonder what you've missed.

You take your chance in love
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows.

Some people will tell you to kiss and run,
For some people it's just a game, have some fun.
But, somewhere there's a perfect love waitin' for you.
You just have to watch what you say, and watch what you do.

You take your chance in love
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows,
As everyone knows.


It isn't easy.
It takes imagination, courage and
Great inventiveness.
It takes poetic insight,
Historical perspective, intelligence,
Strategic balance, mental
Agility, flexibility, and guile;
It takes a crooked streak and
Cajolling, jokes by the dozen, and even
A trick or tow; it takes planning
and purpose, it takes hope
And faith; it takes persistence
And perspicacity. It takes bribery
And salesmanship, threats,
And swindles by the hundreds.
It takes everything I've got and
Then a whole lot more.
Keeping you up past 9:30 is
The hardest thing I've ever done.
And, someday I'm going to do it.


We were like invaders from outer space
As we roared through the little rivers
Capsizing sampans
Spraying churches
Playing the radios
Going full boar
Towards withdrawal
Leaving sampans capsizing in
Our wakes.
I walked among them.
My bootprints are there.
All I can do is lie about it
The truth is too complex
Too confusing. Most people
Can't deal with it. In fact,
I've never found anyone who really could.
You had to be there.


Sometimes my view of
Things is so distorted
By selfish misinterpretations
And lack of patience
That -- to me -- I am all
Alone, fighting the battles
Of justice and righteousness,
For order and peace,
And everyone else is
Opposing these lofty goals.
In fact, they are all working
Subtly to undermine these
Greatly-to-be-desired outcomes.
Other times, I know I've blacked
Out reality, crawled into a
Box of my own creation, and I'm in
There playing "Name that tune"
With myself.


It doesn't seem to
Want to go away.
It jusxt keeps coming up:
Vietnam. The smell
Of the river hit me last
Night. I was lyin' in
Bed wondering about it.
What is that smell?
The way the people looked
At me. At us.
It just doesn't seem to
Want to go away.

What if it had been
Anyone else but me.
But, no. It was me.
And it's still me.
That's something that
Will never change.

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