2009: Wishing you and your family & friends many blessings for this winter holiday!

Southern Spring

Sticky palms rub beads
of sweat off the forehead,
fruits multiply like
dandelions in the meadow,
each taste a burst of
sunshine dripping golden juices
down the throat

until one is in
a tropical island
where the moon stirs
the ocean until
it becomes something
large, something frightening,
something oppressing
like when one is running
into walls of waves
after Moses dropped
his staff.

Tribute to Earth Day

chalky poetry on the pavement
is as beautiful as grass stains
on my jeans
that won't come off

a smear here, a doodle there,
and letters over there
like finger painting
earthy tones on canvas
to be erased and then (re)created
to something new

like recycling
and saving a tree's existence
for your breath and mine,
but we road-rage through traffic
everyday after work and school,
picking up our kids and running errands
like a robot
until we eventually waste away

when we could have taken 30 minutes
each day walking or jogging in the park,
pumping blood instead of gas, shedding away fat
like a molting snake

as we tone up in physique
and spirit to cultivate happiness
and decorate our home with pretty things
instead of a blanket of pollution and dust

if we rebuild the shield from cancer,
from heat in the summer,
and stop feeding our plants
and water poison or turn
our livestock mad,
we could have written better love
letters and poetry to Earth

and she would have RSVP-ed more kindly
to our demands and needs,
but her monsoons, tsunamis, and cat-5 hurricanes
sunk us all
to despair and fear,
shaking us out of our confidence
of living the young life
as the good life

when all she wanted from us is gratitude
because receiving equals giving
like a mother to a child,
like an intimate relationship
with your significant other

and one day when I celebrated Earth Day
with the Third Ward blacks, whites, and Hispanics
parading down the block of our junior high school,
a homeless man hobbled to join us picking up litter
and throwing it in his rusty, creaky wagon
instead of asking for food and water
in his cupped hands

and maybe Mother Earth was in him
at that very moment with sad eyes filled with love,
whispering that actions speak louder than words:

Recycling
Saves
Valuable
Pieces

so she sent us that message long ago,
but we never read her postcard
that was under the pile of junk mail.