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VIETNAM SUNSETS FOREVER
Vietnam sunsets
In my
mind still
At night
It all comes back
To me
The eyes,
Of comrades
And foe,
Like dying sunsets,
Burning holes
In the darkest of nights,
And
living forever
In the eyes
Of everyone
I meet in dreamland.
#
1968 - San Francisco, California
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NO MORE BLUE SKIES
There are no more blue skies, any more,
Drifting overhead
Between beaches
And people
As a child
I tore holes in that sky
With kites
Woven from dreams
My eyes used to wade
Across skies
Watching the sun retreat
Behind the mountains
Or drowning in the sea.
I felt the touch of that sky
And the oneness
of that vast blue soul cover.
I search those skies now.
Reaching out for yesterday,
But the shadows
Of young warriors,
Dying behind someone’s
red , white and blue flag
Clouds my vision
And my dreams.
It might be the same sky,
But it is not the same child
Nor the same dreamer
Any more.
#
December, 1968
- San Francisco, California
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DREAM-LIGHT DOES FADE WITH AGE
She thought life was wonderful
Filled with hope and apple carts,
Children singing, people laughing,
Sugar and spice, and everything should be nice,
Beauty was in the mirror
And rain only fell when the flowers were dry
And life smelled good
So very good!
But I spoiled that dream.
I told her of Vietnam,
Hungry children in Africa,
Charles Manson, riots in American cities,
The JFK, RFK, and King assassinations
Nixon and Watergate,
LBJ and LSD
The Kent State killings,
Cancer, divorce, old age
Rapes,
Lonesome times
And death,
She looked at me
Hoping I had lied.
I only wish I had
She cried herself
To sleep.
#
August, 1970
- Monterey, California
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HAD A GOOD FRIEND ONCE
Had a good friend
in high school
We saw things eye to eye
And most of the time
We agreed
On life’s important stuff.
He went off to the University,
Perhaps, even to learn.
I was drafted
To defend our freedom,
Or whatever it was about.
Time slipped past us, standing in separate places
With different visions
Of the world.
He graduated cum laude
And I flunked Vietnam .
We got together once,
When I got home from my tour of duty.
We did not have much to say.
I spoke, but he did not listen.
He spoke and I did not understand.
We each had a different truth.
He felt he was right
Not to go!
But I made a part of him
Feel uncomfortable
About that decision
Not to fight.
I sensed some regret
But it was only a brief fleeting moment
And we really didn’t have
anything more to say
#
June, 1978
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