EPITAPH

You land in Frisco
as a young adolescent
on the plane
playing with my cousin's
stuffed giraffe and bear
in an aimless year
scenting my family's wrath
of being on the war path
for my music career
and yet there is no secret
that I am their prodigy
who must devote time
to creating an epitaph
so sublime
it will define me
when I tell the family
on Nob Hill
I'd rather be a poet
or a saint
than chill out
for their designs on me.

STRAVINSKY

With boundless music

of energy in adolescence

from solo practicing
Stravinsky's violin concerto

in a critic's connection

on the last of summer days

under the Evergreen trees

and greensward shrubbery

with me learning to conduct

on a score
at my soundproof studio

that my professor left me

his European notes

besmirched by Russian quotes
 enjoying the sunshine

at the cleft of my window

with an enigmatic breeze

playing the twelve tone scale

allowing me to be instructed

and audited
in my Leonard Bernstein
harmony and solfeggio class

that I will not fail.

THE DISAPPEARED

Do you who love poetry,
which is like itself
the Logos, the Word
in all creation
from my children's chorus
accept an invitation
to hear a Beat poet out,
it is not weird
to think each day
of the disappeared
in Argentina, Chile,Brazil
or in the tundras
of the Russian Gulag
or under the boots
of the Stasi or Stalag
or in the still ashes
of the children in Germany
who had to wear a yellow star
only God knows where
you are.

KATHE KOLLWITZ TIME

The earth fills up
with your ashes,
as your shadow walk in
to your Berlin studio
drawing in sunlight
for your paintings
as you as a  pacifist
and famous artist offer
a canvas of peace
we remember to
look back
at your folio
there is still blood
on the European snow.

OCCUPATION

The secret police
holds your papers
and passport
in their valise
with lieutenant Laurent
in his trench overcoat
as a client of the Occupation
pretending all is well
with support from Hell
in their death knell
of a utopia they invent
with their trains
and transportation
to concentration camps
for those who refuse
or are politically for freedom
and the target to resent
the innocent politicians,
as Jews and Christians
are put on trial
in Nazi style stamped myopia
by government -spent guards
those bureaucrats who file into Paris
with belief in the names
from their own embarrassment
with reports of the secret police
pretending they are democrats
ignoring reality and fears
with the chip of spies
hidden in their eyes and ears
ending their free editorial world
which has blinded freedom
in the reality of war
turning in their friends
who are really their enemies
unwilling to apologize
yet full of sporting conviviality
from their fascist ally
whatever it meant to Germany
on those horribly taxing days
until the knock on the door
revealed their own reality
with their cavorting liberality
by hiding the gospel news
from their good neighbors
who help save minorities
true Christians and Jews
from deportation
like my brave family
to stand up to fascist authority
and wrote talented editorials
who were themselves taken away
forsaken like Jesus
on these memorial days
as Robert Desnos,
poet of and liberty
is rounded up
for his words for democracy
by the Nazi death squads
with a Resistance argument
of those who wear a cross or star
in their own involvement
by throwing rocks at our humanity
from a love which alone
at this monument
will save us for only God knew
whom they really were.

RESOLUTIONS

Resolutions do not last
they are as castaways
in the bottomless sea
as Ulysses flees his exile
when he has the chance
to return to Penelope's smile
as favored lovers
in Homer's considered romance,
resolutions are like revolutions
when at war with Troy
in tragic circumstances
that mostly annoy and do not last
for we are all castaways
when we lust
for sex is power
like King David with Bathsheba
he betrayed God's trust
whom he would deflower
he could never have success
without God and fate consulted
for a blessing,
we must address reality
suspended through adultery,
you would think humanity
would learn from mankind
from the wise Greeks
and devout Jews
extolling justice and mercy
but love hypnotizes to blind us
before we realize
what rationally we could refuse
as we rarely compromise
or cry out to reality
as Odysseus
who waits on the pagan Arete,
or are we any better
when we do no read
from Saint John's love letter
to escape our familiarity
in cognition with our fate
we make our poetic life
full of strife to complicate.

BECAUSE IT IS DAWN

Because it is dawn

walking alone along
reading my poetry aloud

on Crane's beach

except for one other soul
in the high tide
looking like a bride
in a canopy
over the diving board
in her bright bikini

knowing it's O.K.
and not remiss
as she walks toward me
with a kiss of peace
not thinking something
may be amiss
yet she seems so assured
and being Sunday
maybe she thinks
we are still in church
but I believe it is pure
agape love to behave
in a friendly way
maybe she wants to talk

to a runner along the Bay

along the marathon waves

reaching out by the quay

trying to speculate

what awaits today
for our itinerary
maybe we both are
waiting for an escaping date
out in an ocean kayak

for I'm asking this diver out

with a rising quiver on my back

for who really
is this laughing swimmer

beside me in her bikini

not thinking of me as
just some wise guy
who reaches out to play jazz
over the beach's sunrise 

for all this soul can do in reply
is to my offer to the diver

in a deep splash
or try to take on the board

the Kierkegaardian leap of faith
as I have already
secured my reward.