THE STORY OF MARCH

Where in school, I wonder,

do they teach you the price

of memories?  

How much they cost?  

Because on that day

your body was a cathedral and

our silence, an intimate prayer

(A mute supplication)

which we set on the window pane

next to the red rose.

As I recall,

the pearl white earring

loitered patiently

on the desk.

9:46 P.M.

A motorcycle races

through the main drag

in the middle of the night,

its engine nothing but

hot rancor, anguish, grease.

THE HOLY GRAIL AS A NO BRAINER

No wonder Christ’s chalice is on the mind

of England’s greatest knights.  Why

Wouldn’t you want to dig

a spur into your steed

Just to get your hands on

A cup that, maybe two thousand

years ago, had touched

The lips of God.

GOLD INTO SILK

I'm looking for the new message.

I want words to mean more

than they do in my illegible scrawl.

I want to meditate

until I am one with The Universe

and Enlightenment is

second nature.

I want The Cubs to win The Series

I want The President to fix The Problem.

I want the sunset to burn its gold

into silk that clothes me

at the end of the coldest day,

when communication

is over and words mean nothing.