The Long Road

not a soul in sight
only an occasional tumbleweed
rolled by, the bushes trembled
this is the long road
the one that we ultimately travel alone
the companions fall away into their own mysteries
the landscape erodes and the circle of
day and night stops when
our eyes stop seeing, we hope in
the end that someone lovingly
closes our eyelids for us.

Packing for Cats

Ollie and Pickle.

Afrin and Ventolin.

Pantanol and Nasonex.

As they frolic and jump in my lap

I will stand up to reach for a tissue

no sitting on a comfy sofa, 

a cloud of dander would rise to meet me.

Ah, cats, I can love them

from a distance.

Fire!

Fire!

Sirens blasting, the roar of firetrucks,

police cars, unmarked vans and cars

all rushing towards the mountain

in the distance, I could see small orange

specks moving along the perimeter

our brave men and women who take on

the heat and flames of fire.

I watch from a safe distance, my heart

beating for all those who flee, whose homes

are burned to the ground, the 

deer and cougar, the birds, the small ground

animals, I curse those who started this

human caused fire.

Fire!

Cycling Seven Continents

900 miles of straight across the tundra
a rough gravel road, the tedium only punctured
by crowds of small children at remote villages
selling bottles filled with water from questionable sources
their smiles light the sky
yet in the Andes, amidst towering peaks, brilliant
shawls and skirts contrast with grey and brown rock,
their smiles light the sky.
in America, the farmer from Oklahoma, tall in his cowboy
hat and boots, examining these lycra-clad men on
bikes with skepticism and amazement.
even the squeaking frog on their front handle bars
did not elicit a smile.
The white smiles of the African people were the
warmest of all, their smiles light the sky.

Stephen Hawking

at 3 am, in between coughing fits,
I learned that black holes emit particles, where have I been
Stephen told us this long ago and I wasn't listening
to his synthesized American accented voice
(being British, a definite irk, he said, in an American accent)
and how, how can we complain about our small aches and pains,
hard work, our small lives as this giant, this diminutive hunched
man, bright eyes behind thick glasses, works out the mysteries
of the universe, in his head,
at 3 am, make it 4 am., I am in awe, and great
sadness as his passing.
let us all be inspired to act.

incipient racism

I took the test, the Harvard test.
the one that tells you what you fear to know
I have high incipient racism although I
never signed up for it I learned it somewhere
from the TV and the movies, from others,
from never living with them side by side,
instead buffered by a wall of indifference and
bigotry, I learned with the rest of them
and now
when the survey says I am racist, it pierces
my heart but engages my brain
knowledge is power
change is possible

Black is beautiful

Black is beautiful

Powerful women are beautiful

wielding swords and spinning disks

they plunge forth into battle

eyes shining with determination 

we must follow them

courageously.