We Ride in the Rain
We Ride in the Rain.
We are happy, we seldom complain.
Something about moving, the quenching,
the drenching, the Softness of Nature’s Hand
on our parched linens.
The Gladness of Man
the moving of the Seasons,
the Ancient Rhythm of commerce,
the Hum of the Marketplace Mantra.
Aromas of Humanity sustain us
as we move sideways, vertically
frantically, erratically, measuring carefully
our pace, our dance, our stance.
We Ride in the Rain.
Love captures us once again.
From old withered hearts,
parades of Color will start;
and who knows the Art?
Sitting in the Saddle
of the Smile of Krishna
the Benediction of Buddha
the Mercy of Christ
the Wisdom of Allah
We live for the Color of Love.
the Season of the Dove.
the Warm soft hand of God
inside our Velvet Glove.
Read MoreHello, My Name is Art …
Hello, my name is Art.
You’ve probably seen me, here and there
in your helter-skelter life: bobbing around back alleys,
blowing dandelion seeds in hot summer’s air,
chasing Soap Bubbles across Mystical swamps & Quagmires
in Northern Ireland & who knows where …
Hello, my name is Art.
I’m a Frozen Frame in your Rancid Movie of Old Spaghetti.
I’m a Lame Duck in a Missionary Prison,
a Fragrant Fart in a Sanitary Landfill,
A Raven-God in a house of handicapped Crows.
I don’t wait for anybody – especially you – to approve me,
reject me, exalt me, connect me, destroy me, employ me or bisect me.
Hello, my name is Art.
You’ll see me sun-tanning with Negroes,
Playing Chess with Chinese,
Hanging by my toes in a White Man’s corporate Boardroom,
Leading a Revolution in a Small Latin-American Country,
and all the while Dreaming I’m a Shaman in a Sweat-Lodge.
It’s whatever your careless heart cares to dream,
on this Eternally-Raining Sunny day.
Hello, my name is Art.
You’ll look for me,
but never find me,
until you’ve found
your own Heart.
If my name was Jim
or Sum Dim, or
Cousin Slim, or
a languid Swim in
Designer Lakes …
You’d still make Mistakes
and put on the Brakes
before you’d perfected
the Real from the Fakes
but! for Art’s Sakes!
Do what it Takes
To Love all it Makes
and Caress the Creases out of your War-Torn forehead
before you put the Hummingbirds to Bed
and Instead … make a brand New Start.
Your own journey to your Sweet & Special Heart.
Yes! It’s Valentine’s Day …
Goodbye, my name is Art.
Eye Passing, Life Catching
The Precious Moments of Life are Slipping By
It is noon, it is midnight, it is an Orange color moving through the Sky
Pets are fed, Rumi is Dead, mother has baked another Perfect Apple Pie
The Dogs on the Sled, the nuns in the Bed: all perform effortlessly as they
look in my Eye … And Life keeps Passing relentlessly by.
The Precious Moments of Life are Moving On
The Trains, Planes and Cargoes are catapulted through the Orange Colors of Dawn
Mystery Speaks; Ghosts in the Closet Squeak; Neighbors on acid Freak …
and Dead Poets, Live Lemmings, Drunk Singers and Retarded Swingers
all Dance in Synchrony, as they look in my Eye
… And Life keeps Passing Relentlessly by.
The Sad & Happy Moments of Life are Departing
Like a Drunken Missionary, embarrassed by his own Farting
They Walk out the Door, They look relaxed and Sore,
They claim to all Know the Score (of Hockey Games to Come)
In God’s Kingdom On The Run; in Buttered Club Med in the Sun
… As Life gazes Lovingly in my Eye and relentlessly passes on By.
The Family Tree is Bearing the Fruit of Ecstasy
Relatives living and dead, lost uncles buried in my head
Aunt Jemima’s bejeweled vagina and Cousin Leroy’s recurring Angina
And the long sullen list of Februaries missed and Octobers’ Toenails Kissed
We’re all waiting in the Shooting Gallery of Love,
for the Silent Soldier with the Pearly Glove
to pull that Trigger – we figure – that will lift us all Above.
… And the tears roll out from the Elephant’s eye
as Rivers flow on … and Life Passes by.
whale communion
whale communion
and all the spirits that sip
the license, the grave, the sunglasses, the speeding car
we all drink from the fiesta of the sun
Novocaine aspirin run-ons bears
seemingly brave eyes in your headlights
glare back and kill you with their love
before they run over your heart
with the steel-toe boots
you gave to charity
a millennium ago.
will you come back and watch your own movie?
Read MoreGift of the Horse
This day is full of nights.
Brightnesses of strange feathers; birds that align with the sky & take flight.
Small squeaks that get Big Grease, toxic Oil Spots on Troubled Waters.
Boats that float, by Grace alone; dirty Sailors and drunken captains that barely make the road home.
This day is full of nights;
broken bridges and soft blacktop that makes your footstep slop
land-waves and water-faults that sink a man up to the edge of his doubts;
cry-babies of politics and the often-wounded and rarely-dressed open books,
parading around with pages as blank as yesterday’s looks.
This night is full of days
signature scraps of diamond light reflecting in ten thousand different ways
glimmers of diamonds lost in the sand; white-gloved babies longing to take your hand;
the underfed and overweight looking for food, early to late;
This night is full of days
the weavings of humans, all trying to find the way
out of the labyrinth, into the trap, out of god’s uterus, launched off the map
only to fall into their own sap; the juices of life, no napkin to wrap
the light is full of light; let me count the ways
we can all find home; there’s a million sun rays
one ray is enough to burn my trembling hand,
to make all my wedding rings fall into the sand;
the light is full of light; let me taste the source: a mouth is a mouth,
and never think your gift will ride off on any other horse….