VENICE OF THE MIND

Where are the lanterns

and codegas to light them,

to carry them,

to keep the thieves

and demons at bay?

Where are the guides

to walk us at night, through

the dark and narrow streets?

Where are the bridges and canals

to fashion us a city from

islands of mud?

In what distant forest

will we find the timber

to float our symphonies of dreams?

DRINKING, NOT DRIVING

Words…uncork them

and pour.

Decant them.

Let them breath

in your breath,

let them ripen

in your mouth–with 

every annunciation.

Bring their fruit

forward.

Sip, swish and swill

their flavor. Savor

their finish: the butter,

the briar, and the burn.

Don’t treat them like

like insects

you might meet 

with your

windshield (splat!)

on the Pacific Coast

Highway.

Because you could,

you know. You could.

Drink them in.

Don’t just drive

right through them.

SEND FOR THE WIG*

When your stuck and feeling stupid,

don’t stay there,

do something different.

Play dress-up.

Glam-up, give yourself a make-over.

Do like Tristram Shandy did

in the late-18th century British novel

by the same name:

get up, give yourself

a good, clean shave,

deck yourself out

from head to toe

in decadence.

Put topaz on every finger, if you must.

Make yourself fabulous, outrageous.

And why not use hoity-toity fashion phrases

while you're at it, that your mouth 
has never “frenched” before,

like haute couture.

To be the part you must play the part.

Become the costume.

What are you waiting for?

Send for the wig.

*Inspired by Elizabeth Gilbert’s, Big Magic

THE FUTURE

It begins

as a distant speck

on the horizon,

like a Bedouin

from a haboob.

As it gets closer

it turns into an oasis

that offers up

its clear water

and verdant leaves

as shade.

By the time it is upon you

it is a village jubilee

that welcomes you into

its pulse and throb,

like the prodigal son

just come home.

This is your future

we are talking about.

The very one you are

attracting right now

with every thought,

every breath,

every word you speak.

It is like a dear friend

who, in transit, will text you

and say:

I’ll be there soon.

Tell me again…

was it a banquet you wanted

or Chinese take out?

GETTING AROUND DECORUM

There                    is

     a box

                    jammedcrammed into

                a                                cabinet.

             Inside              it                      are

other                  boxes.

                             And in them

are

still

more

boxes.

Inside

           each 
           cardboard                  container

              is a

                gift

but there's       

            no way                         to get at

            any of 

                     them                                                  

given

                                                the nature

of their

confinement—

                                               unless

      you take                                  the doors

                          off

              the cabinet,           the cabinet

         off                                        the wall,

                      rearrange                                                       

           the furniture,

                                           only then

           might you make

                                                     room

        for all  

                           that is

             so neatly

                                   tucked

                                               away,

                          and begin              by 
                                                    opening
                              one box   
                                      at a time.