(written in 2003)

Ought-two was a bad year

As would be three, four

and many more is my guess.

An unsettling time

when embracing the crime

of war seems a theme

of the Bush administration.

It's a genetic thing,

more mom than dad.

His obsessive tough-talk will

continue to bloom into

a Nam-like obscenity

until the body bags come home

bearing unwritten messages

from those silenced GIs.

War-No-More!

But long before

the killing begins

something must be done to

get their attention.

A populist uprising for peace

can become addictive, like

coffee, cigarettes and love.

My T-shirt design would be

a modest contribution.

The shop was a hole

in the wall on Cornwall,

downtown. I was taken

aback upon entering:

the proprietor was

a middle-eastern woman.

Is there danger here?

Will an army of Ashcroft

stormtroopers

come goose-stepping down

Cornwall to haul

this poor woman away for

printing my treasonous rant?

She studied the design and

asked, "Why does that man

want to go to war?"...a long

awkward pause, then she

agreed to print it.

I hoped that no one would

throw a bomb through her

window because of my shirt.

She said, "I don't worry

about such things because

I believe in God and

what happens, happens."

She also said I reminded her

of her father, the major

influence on her life.

Not knowing how to respond to that remark

(especially after seeing

a tear appear on her cheek)

I said,

"Well, thanks again"

and walked out,

a string of bells

ding-a-linging

as I shut the door.

The Old Man and the Tree

(late April)

From my second story apartment

window the view is of a gnarly

fruit tree as old as I am. It's

slightly more weather withered,

a lone survivor from an orchard

probably displaced by this new

building.

What kind of tree? It has pink

blossoms... maybe cherry. Will

know for sure in another month

or so.

Green-mossed in April, two main

trunks split and rise into five.

One is broken off four feet up

from the ground... another, six

feet higher, becomes the Loch

Ness monster if you look at it

squinty eyed.

A new shoot growing out of the

stump turns long-necked-Nessie

into a farm boy, a straw in his

mouth.

If it were trimmed back a bit,

the dead wood cut out, then a

dose of good fertilizer added,

my old friend just might make

it through a few more leafy

seasons!