Saturday, March 11, 2017


I’m not afraid of scars
Scars are like souvenirs
They mark the moments
The failures
The mistakes
The lapses
They mark the illnesses and injuries
They’re like the lines on the doorjamb that show the child’s growth through the years
Like mileposts
So, yeah, cut me again
I’m not afraid of scars

Saturday, March 4, 2017

The Monkey and the Football

The Monkey and the Football
A Play In One Act….or, One Scene, Actually….well, really just a couple of lines

Dramatis Personae:    

  • The Globe Guy – an innocent looking old guy who sells the Boston Globe newspaper at the train station where, back in 2006, I boarded the commuter rail each morning on my way to work.  Insists on asking everyone who passes if they’d like a Globe (“like a Globe?”) everyday, no matter how many previous days in a row you’ve told him “no, thank you.”  Wears thick glasses and a furry hat with ear flaps, even in the summer.

  • The Cowboy – a man of few words with, as Pete Townshend so accurately noticed all cowboys have, Chinese eyes.  Generally wears a cowboy hat and a trench coat, sometimes black sometimes not-quite-white.  Unlike most people who wear cowboy hats in this part of the world (Northeastern United States of America), he doesn’t look like a fool.  He could really be an actual cowboy.  One day, in passing, I said to him, in reference to his black trench coat, “You look like you ought to have a shotgun up under there”.  I said this ‘cause I’m wicked funny, as most of you know.  He responded, straight faced but with a twinkle in his eye, “Sometimes I do”.  I liked that.

  • Me.

Setting: outdoor train platform, a Wednesday morning in the fall of 2006, 6:40 am Eastern Standard Time.

As the curtain rises, The Globe Guy is standing at center stage. I am walking away from The Globe Guy towards stage right, and pretending I don’t hear him.  The Cowboy is walking towards The Globe Guy from stage left.

GLOBE GUY (to Me): “Like a Globe?”

The Cowboy nods to The Globe Guy, but doesn’t speak.  The Globe Guy hands The Cowboy a Globe.  The Cowboy hands The Globe Guy a one dollar bill.

GLOBE GUY (fumbling in his pouch for 2 quarters, since The Globe costs 50cents): I can’t do a thing with these gloves on.  (He’s wearing knitted gloves.)

(I told you he’s a man of few words.)

GLOBE GUY (still fumbling): Oh, fuck it!

The Globe Guy removes his gloves, gets the 2 quarters out of his pouch and hands them to the still silent Cowboy, who is already beginning to back slowly away.  (Get ready now, here comes the big finish.)

GLOBE GUY (just as his hand is depositing the 2 quarters in The Cowboy’s hand):  It’s like a monkey fucking a football, trying to do anything with gloves on.  You know?

The Cowboy exits behind me, stage right, never quite taking his eyes off The Globe Guy.

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Elements 4: Water

Water always returns to level.
Did you know that?
It is self-equalizing,
100% fair and unbiased,
Treating all obstacles and intruders with the same disdain.
It cleanses and carries away.
It is everywhere that life is.

Light passes through it,
Or bounces off it,
As it (the water) wills,
But never changes it.

Water has its phases, its changes,
Solid, gas, liquid,
Like anything else, it is subject to the laws of physics,
Subject but not enslaved.
As liquid, it flows and drips and seeps where it will, transporting, eroding.
As gas it rises and floats where its brother the wind carries it.
As solid it is the shaper and destroyer, raising and flattening mountains.

And you are like water in this:
Without you I am a desert,
Dry and desolate and lifeless.

So come, flow over me, through me, around me.
Lift me and carry me.
Shape me, but do not destroy me.
Sustain me,  feed me.

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Elements 3: Fire

In your eyes I see shadows of flames that burned too brightly once
In your heart I see scars from clutching the flame too close to your breast
In your tears I taste ashes of dreams consumed by experience and loss
In your kiss I feel the heat that still lives and does not let you rest
Locked away now, safely contained: but, like you, Fire persists, Fire survives, Fire endures.

Some shadows last longer than the light that first cast them
Sometimes the light outlasts the candle’s flickering flame
Your old scars have lasted long after the wounds have healed
I only hope you will always smile when you hear my name
A smile as bright as the sun: for, like you, Fire persists, Fire survives, Fire endures.

The world can be an ugly place, more often than not, perhaps
Still there are moments beautiful enough to allow you to forget
I know sometimes you wonder if you even have strength enough left to breathe
I only want you to let me always be the place where you find rest
Warm and cozy by my hearth: because, like you, Fire persists, Fire survives, Fire endures.

Fire consumes, Fire produces, Fire transforms.
You should not fight it, with fire or anything else.
Embrace it,
     use it,
          or avoid it,
               as you will.
But fighting is pointless, you cannot win.
For, like you, Fire persists, Fire survives, Fire endures.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Elements 2: Earth

I sink my roots into you, as a sapling into the earth,
Just as you sink your toes into the sand at the seashore,
And just as I sink my fingers into your extraordinary hair.

I bury myself in the ashes of the fire of your soul,
And beg you to bury your nails in the skin of my back, leaving your mark,
Just as pirates of old buried their treasure and marked their maps.

You are the ground I grow from,
Holding me firm and feeding my needs.
I was reborn the day I saw you,
Resurrected on that Easter morn,
And you are the holy mother earth of my second life.