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Page 1 in 2003 Best Poets

they wait in ships of fate
to will the time and forge the space
renewing rites of exclusion; not to suppress,
but to keep sanity’s sacred distance.
conveyed in satiric vessels, their insane cargoes
full of madmen sail in search of reason.
every destiny hopefully fulfilling.
every embarkation potentially the last.
their sails have a hundred wills
and the murky deep a thousand arms
reaching for the sea-bound steadfast in that crossing,
and point to the passage of imaginary hope.
for the land from which they come
is the land for which they seek…
navigators of unreasoned melancholy,
a moving chaos full of vice and fault.
into the sea of Satan spread wide they their sails,
and firm is their grip that forever shall be locked
onto the course which madness guides them.
into the blindness they hasten, where hope is lost forevermore.

I once slept in a crib, now I sleep in a bed.
I once drank out of a bottle, now I drink from a glass.
I once wore a triangle of cloth, now I wear skater’s pants.
I once was a tiny baby, now I am a big boy.
I once learned only at home, now I also learn at school.
I once could only wiggle, now I race friends around the block.
I once ate green Gerber’s, now I eat chili dogs with hot peppers.
I once colored with crayons, now I sketch the setting sun.
I once wondered about the world, now the world is wonderful.

What do I feel when I kneel to heal?
What do I break when I take for my sake?
What do I care if I swear on a dare?
What do I seed when I feed on greed?
What do I know if I go too low?
What do I say whether to stay or go away?
What do I mean when I preen with green?
What do I do to remain true to you?

Yankle Doodle Dandy went to town
Looking to buy Mr. Lapley’s hound.
Not a hound, a weird dog, says he found,
The word then surely got around,
That Y. D. Dandy caused such a frown!
So he stole the mutt and sold him to the pound!

slain by the
vulnerable emotions
of unfeigned love,
and finding all hope
piteously cornered,
the spirit ruptures.
like the whaler’s final harpoon
that strikes
the supple heart of the hunted,
and the harrowed.
reason is a memory.
peace is a luxury
dispensed only in the absence
of maudlin
prepossession;
an elusive,
infrequent eye
within the quiet
uncertainty of the storm.

There is a valley of heartfelt truth where sometimes we walk.
Entranced by nature’s lush, green carpets, we begin to talk,
And our hearts beat with the rhythm of love’s embrace.
We come to a brook and within its space we see one face,
‘Tis the face of patience only unfeigned truth can release.
In the valley, we walk undesigning in pure love’s increase.
A future for us beyond the valley’s verdant slope gently waits,
For a time when the waters of truth no longer its power abates,
But endears our bond to the valley and brook of truth.
Give us time to build our lives in this garden so sooth.
A heartfelt place where we will walk in hope without our fears,
An honest place where we talk and fill the valley with our tears.
In the valley of truth we’ll find our dreams of castles in the skies,
Bound in truth so strong and pure. Love is the sum of all our tries.

Undertows begin with the clash of distant oceans
Phantom muscles force striking waves across
Space and time furtively seeking usurpations,
Disturbing the ageless bearings
Set by the Mariner of the Ancient of Days.

Blinking sunshine
Shatters my dreams
Brings me to reality
With its morning love beams
Up I scamper, my babydoll so fine
Sly to seek morning’s first kiss

The paradox of life undeniably
Seldom catches us
Waiting, Wanting, Willing
To understand the circumstance
By which it quite surreptitiously appears

Yesterday casts its shadow upon my tomorrows
Today is a reflection of all my yesterdays
And that is why tomorrowland will only and always be
The mirror of hope into which I shall look for all my dreams.