1.22.2016
dead bodies in
the streets
wounded pleading
faces, our enemies
at the mercy
of our whim
seeing our fantasies
play out in real life
is not always
pretty or
ennobling.
what evil lurks
in the hearts
of men
the shadow knew
but we weren’t
paying attention.
—————-
Hello friends,
Some intermittentcy (is that a word?!) coming up this month, as my writing energies are channeling into a six week course on The Story of The Silver Screen Cowboys that I’m teaching at UofMinnesota’s OLLI program starting next week.
Roy, Gene, Hoppy, Tex, Durango and a bunch of others… how and why we came to love them, and who they were onscreen and in real life, where and why they went-thataway….
I’ll still be posting poetry, but may miss a “per day” or two as I wander my way through the badlands….
Best and Blessings,
Len
1.19.2016
years feel like
moments
or eons
depending upon
who
you are
spending
them
with.
————
1.18.2015
wrapped up in
furs like
kleenex
nothing stops
winter’s
spandex
from clinging
to skin with
fire.
—————–
1.16.2016
frozen waterfall
mouth
grins out at
us
what are you
doing
so wrapped
up
come play with
me
if you
can.
==============
1.13.2016
young faces show
different takings
on how life
works.
when did we come
to mix and match
genders
as if they were
social constructs
instead of
givens.
biology seems to
have gone
lost
along the way.
————————–
1.12.2106
grown men with
bibles
wrestle with whether
god is needed.
and yet there they
are
working with
the word.
————–
[10.13]
1.10.2016
orange mists blow off
above frigid
swirling
morning waters
like the hand
of creation
moving across
the deep.
============
1.8.2016
a writing day
stuck to the
chair
fingers on the
keyboard
unaware
of any time
to be
off
ideas floating
constant
ahead.
no rest until
done
a writing day
ended only
by son.
————-
1.7.2016
winding road north
along gitchi-gami
through trails and
tales of years gone
by
salted fish, potato
cooked simple
salt, pepper a
touch, and water
from the lake
unfiltered like
the sound off the
shoreline, winds
strong over rocks
that have lain
here
and been washed
into pebbles some
others still cloven
down some sift
line
making ancient just
a yesterday
to touch
inside
————————-
PoemsPerDay 