You're It

Through the garden, up a tree
I’m so fast, you can’t catch me!
In the house and up the stairs,
What! You tagged me? That’s not fair.

Self

What is in a name?
Or a secret?
But is the secret the truth,
or only an illusion,
set forth to ends with no beginning,
and no purpose?
As leaves fall into a forest with no ears,
they make no sound.
But here is the truth,
that all become wise-
Truth is in the eye of the beholder.

Chilly Willy

Chilly Willy was a goat.
Chilly Willy got a coat,
So Chilly Willy won't be chilly,
Will he?

Persistent Hope

Though dark you see the day to be
A brighter day is on its way.
Though dread and fear seem always near
Your true repose is ever close.
Though seem it strange you cannot change
This fact that night gives way to light.

Always, My Sweet

Butter, oh how thou dost warrant an ode,
For flavors which thou dost preserve.
Always thou hast keep inside mine abode,
But more than that, thou dost deserve.
To treat thee unkindly would be far too rash,
And betrayeth our excellent smarts.
In our land, thy fate is not in the trash,
But rather inside of our hearts.

Fat Ed

There was a man named Edgar Hill
Who never, ever ate his fill.
Each day his cook would make for him
Whatever menu fit his whim.
For every meal Ed tried to eat
A dozen different kinds of meat.
He munched on pancakes by the stack
Just for an after dinner snack.

Although he stuffed himself with ham,
Then steamy buttered rolls and jam,
Thick waxy meatloaf, melty cheese,
Cold snotty soup that's made from peas,
Big bulging bagels, sticky rice,
Zucchini bread with sugar spice,
With shiny donuts, cherry pie,
And Polish sausages stacked high,

Hot crispy bacon, crusty toast,
With pink and drippy tender roast,
Potatoes, lima beans and lots
Of greasy, salty tater tots
With fatty burgers, chips and bread,
There never was enough for Ed.
They say he could consume a horse!
And once or twice he tried, of course.

This food made Edgar happy, but
It gave him quite a hefty gut.
For Edgar tried to eat so hard
He really was a tub of lard.
He almost weighed a metric ton.
He wouldn’t exercise or run.
He couldn’t move his hulking girth
Without a tremor in the earth.

But once as he was eating steak
He got a massive stomach ache.
His doctor tried advising him:
“You know it’s wiser to be slim.
Your stomach ache is caused by this:
Compressogastro stomasis!
It means your gut is much too tense
And food’s packed in there mighty dense.”

“If food’s stuck in my gut,” thought he
“I’ll fix that problem easily.
I’ll just eat more and force it out
And it should work without a doubt.”
He filled himself again with food,
And I say this not to be rude,
But once his stomach was that loaded,
Edgar swallowed, then exploded.

This Mind We Trust

This mind we trust,
Oh, that feeble thing.
A painting we create
Fashioned in the image of our own desire.
We sculpt each perception,
With all the time and craft we possess.
This sculpture becomes a gift from God.
If left unopened, it remains as it began:
As a child in reason, and in understanding.
When opened, it can be used and stretched,
And it will grow
To fill its potential,
To compliment the world with enlightenment,
Talent, knowledge, and finally
Faith.

Square

Wrap
Fold
Wipe
Draw

I slept on patch work.
It wouldn't let go of my head
So without it I left.

I took a walk on balmy feet.
I raced a pamphlet through the door.
It got there first.

There are no more windows where I live
But the sun comes in all the same.
Who pays my rent?

Enough of this.
I want
out.

The Progression

That which fills the void,
That which needs be understood
Yet cannot be defined,
Give it glory.
Let praise its justice work
Until it is decorated with a thousand compliments,
Glittering in the limelight like mail.
Obscurity does them no justice,
These flowers of the cave.
Try to accompany them, if you can.
You add to their height
As much as any other of their shadows.
But the pressure of pain can impede their proposal:
The progress of all save but a few.
Greater than these may have fallen.
The mystery that vexes the ages is this:
Will greater rise up?

i

Of all the letters in the world
my favorite is the letter i.
I like the things that i can do;
i can do much more than u.

On First Walking Through the US Botanic Garden

Condensing brilliance here anoints
The symbols of the dawn of time
Where earth embraces sky with liquid flame.

A calico display of time
Exists unknowing and unknown.
The crisping crust of words drips off like so much rain.

A lair of wealth, a stream of light—
A sleepless dream of lighted shade—
Sweet water trickles softly in its veins.

The solace of the heart and mind
Steeped deep in undiscovered mists
A thriving force where none was made to be.

The youth of man so manifest
In wandering where we cannot go.
The sharpest thoughts are tickled to submissive glee.

A mystery of grand design
Evolves in thriving nourishment,
The end of all to simple say: I see.

As One

We’re seeking order in a frozen time.
Throughout the tender center, can we be
Directed now toward a common goal?
Do we impolore, expolore or now deplore?
Make now your choice, the sweetness of a life
Unfolds itself beneath time’s steady hand.
So why preserve the solid conter safe,
To surely find itself so unrefined?
To let the hour of grateful recompense
Be silenced loudly by an unseen hand?
The helpful, hopeful, happy time to come
Will not, though all impede, be so delayed.
Such is the attitude so well endowed
To surely set aright the thing offset
That of istelf itself does not correct.