poems

Sunrises.

Rainbows.

Butterflies.

Baby rabbits squinting their fear of the Unknown.

THE TREE ABOVE —THE TREE BELOW

by Timothy Leary

What is above is below

What is without is within
What is to come is in the past

Waking before the alarm, The cats jump and run; Enticing, and inviting me to rise.

Filling the kettle, I dry the clothing, Washed the night before.

I LOVE to hear thine earnest voice,
Wherever thou art hid,
Thou testy little dogmatist,
Thou pretty Katydid!
Thou mindest me of gentlefolks,--
Old gentlefolks are they,--
Thou say'st an undisputed thing
In such a solemn way.

I love you.

I love you, like the ground loves the rain.

I love you, like a bird’s feathers love the wind.

[He, crouched at the base of this street sign]

"Brother-Man...

...would you like an orange? {(or two (or three))}"

"Oy! ¡Vamos!"

"Sólo un momento más", dice uno de los otros. "Estoy cansado."

Easter And; a poem by Donald Levering, from Horsetail, and reprinted in Previous Lives.

Pondering the glimmer of broken car glass from the night before.

Sitting on my stoop, breeze in my hair.

What a difference, makes a week.

From its beginning, these perspectives, at the end.

Waking to the first, never did I imagine that my mother would become my baby, and that my baby would become my mother.