Phil Loves Turtles

Phil said the turtle is his favorite animal
he likes it because it can live on the water and land
but most of all when things get too hectic
it can withdraw into it's shell
and dream about other things
rather than deal with people and issues

who intrude on his peace and happiness
just like Phil who has been that way
since he was small with very sensitive hearing
where sudden noises make his skin crawl
as do the screechy voices of some small girls
and the booming rumble of thunder

lights also affect his peace
flashes from cameras,
fluorescent lights and the midday sun.
Phil started wearing sun glasses early
some people thought he was silly
but he was quite content to hide his eyes

behind Polaroid lenses and baseball caps
he always gets the bottom bunk
so he can hang up his blanket and shut out
the noisey world, safe in a dark hideaway
with only his imagination and comfort blanket.
Sometimes he thinks about how things work

and the interesting patterns numbers make
and how to combine them quicker than lightening.
He wonders what it would be like to travel to outer space
and even made up a list of the things he would take
if he is ever asked to go.
He likes reading books about turtles

and underwater creatures
sometimes he holds his breath
to see if he could ever live under the sea.
Last week he got a pet turtle to learn how to
survive with the shell attached to his back.
He noticed it moves very slowly and can never play baseball


and the foods that it eats are yucky
Phil knows because he tried the lettuce
and a wiggly pink grub mom bought
from the pet store. Phil tried sitting on a rock
but only lasted an hour and his skin
got all wrinkled when he sat in the water.

After some serious thought
and hours of observation
Phil decided he doesn’t want to be
a turtle after all...
maybe an armadillo instead.

Balance

The center of gravity
when it is found allows
a baby to roll over
and then to bounce back and forth

and move forward to crawl
from crawling to standing
walking, running, jumping
tumbling and diving

into a pool or on to a trampoline
pushing the limits of the earth’s pull
when balance is
clearly established

and in the waning years
after an injury
the crab like walk
of arthritic hips and knees

when it is easier to sit
then test that same test of gravity
terrified by the upcoming frailty.
Physical therapists recommend

learning to balance on a ball
training the various muscles
to become stronger
working against the grave

and eventual position
where rigor mortis sets in
when free will and personal power
doesn’t matter anymore.

Summon whatever vanity
you posses and get moving
override your desire to stay immobile
push beyond your limits

and learn to balance
yourself in the air
standing, walking, moving.

Dog is God Spelled Backwards

If ever there was a creature
sent to teach us how to love,
certainly one creature chosen

is the dog
who has the ability to love unconditionally
and show enthusiasm spontaneously

for the littlest of things
to thrill in the experience
of the wilderness or a backyard

romp, responding to children
with a patience and tenderness
yet reacting to a threat

with all the ferociousness
to make anyone quiver
protecting the home with a commanding

bark with a unique ability to heal
when someone is sick
listening when they are sad

and offering friendship
to keep humans from getting too lonely
better than any antidote

or prescription a doctor can offer.
Dogs have been taken to prisons
to humanize the gangsters

and to old folks homes to comfort
the dying, again with that unconditional
love that transcends age, race, and economic

status in a world gone mad
the dog has the power to live on its own
or run in packs but is quite content

to spend his time in the company of humans
susceptible to their whims and fantasies
loyal, faithful and strong.

Death Tears the Curtain

I sat with you through your last days
the periods of quiet sleep
along with lucid dreams
and furtive glances around the room

trying to see someone who wasn’t there
or at least no one I could see
but somewhere in the vigil
the curtain ripped

and I saw who you were pointing to
my own dreams bordering on the edge
while we talked of so many things
in the quiet of the night, then a last breath

and you were gone, except our link was never broken
I still smell your scent and feel your touch
you wander through my dreams a familiar
sight, I can hear the sound of angel’s wings

feel the flutter of their power
to lift me up when I fall
or to get things just out of reach
but most of all I feel your love

a quiet presence available
to me throughout the day or night
because while I sat at your bedside
the curtain tore and I never mended it.

Papooses on Display

Photograph

















Watercolor














Microsoft Paint
















A display of papooses
assembled in random order
eight little babies

wrapped in ancestral designs
arranged for everyone to see.
Some with jet black hair
others a dusty sand

their faces posed
like little pearls
in the jewelry store
perfect ovals

all about the same size
snuggled and warm
in their family heirloom.

Coos and smiles then soft cries
give way to sleep
as each nods off

safe in the tribal customs
of the annual Pow Wow.
Next year they will be walking

eagle eyes needed to keep them safe
unlike today when they are contained
in their hand beaded cradles

presented on the bear rugs
for all to see, these babies...
the proud future of the tribe.

Polar Bear

Splendid,
the polar bear
blending in
until the time is right
quick movements
the job is done
food for the family
then into a walking
sleep
never withdrawing from the hunt
always ready
for the next opportunity to eat
seals, fishes, plant mosses and garbage
an opportunistic feeder
who will do whatever is needed
for the family to survive
stalking real and imaginary prey
keeping cubs safe
sacrificing own desires
on the arctic snow...
the polar bear.

Memento

I found a Christ child carved in wood
a simple shape of a blond infant
reaching up to the stars
a delicate painting in white and pink
telling the lie to make me think
Jesus was a blond blue eyed boy
delicate and vulnerable
a true child of the god above
not like the dark brown heathens
of the New Mexico clay
where the artifact was found
packed among the personal belongings
of a Spanish nun,
who sacrificed her life
in the quiet evenings when loneliness
created this image of a baby boy
who would never breathe life
the offspring of a virgin mother
committed to god like her,
suffering for his name in a forsaken
land of desert and sun
among the ruddy skin people
who worshiped the spirits
roaming the mesas
along the Rio Grande.