panhandlers

must there be a gaping wound

with flowing blood?

must our cheeks be streaked with tears?

must  we stagger and fall?

then must we crawl before someone

reaches out a helping hand?

how obvious must the truth be?

how blatant the wrong?

when what is apparent is lost in the lie

we all become victims

of the desperation we seek to ignore.

for in making beggars of the desperate,

we become the ones truly in need.

Barry DeCarli

January 23, 1980

Charleston, SC

©2014 Barry DeCarli

similar wars

another war ending

more guilty feelings for not

being able to pick up a gun

grenade or flamethrower

or salvaging, saving

a photograph, a last letter home

some part of speech was lost

in this war

less protest than that one

where we may have put a daisy

in a gun barrel

and said “ make love, not war”

or as easily, cursed the soldier

surely the feelings are different now

my reluctance hardly balances

your willingness

my comfort weighs lightly

on your sacrifice

my desire for self-preservation

is too thin a veil to obscure your courage

my inability to know what I might die for

can not diminish your steadfast belief

that you were doing the right thing

yet, at the end, I am here alive

while you are a number

on another list of those lost to war

another name on a stone or steel memorial

who can say thank you, now

and have it mean anything

to your family, to anyone

conscripted or enlisted or not

does it matter whether this war

was any more necessary than that war

will it matter

if your death or my life was in vain

Barry DeCarli

Ferrisburgh, VT

December, 16-18, 2011

November 11, 2014

Copyright 2014 Barry DeCarli 

moisture molecules

are any of them signs

we see

or imagine we see

some color

or reflection

some shadow

are any of them signs

we look for, hope for

think are real in the atmosphere

of our dreams

or are they just

ordinary shadows

things mirrored

in sunlight or moonlight

on a watery surface

on some concrete wall

most likely

 a cloud formation is just that

moisture molecules on a blue background

and not some semiotic dervish

not some sign that no one else can see

Barry DeCarli

November 8, 2014

©2014 Barry DeCarli

fall time change

so much beauty

so little choice in autumn

caring enough to die

leaving the scenery in melancholy

shades of awe

when going always seems to be the call

when staying leaves you open

to the utter boredom you know

you’re sure to find

ragged branches

already disavowing the lost

warmth

and now, so much earlier

seeking refuge from the dark

Barry DeCarli

November 2, 1976

©1979 Barry DeCarli

From almost

halloween

trick or treating just here in my mind

hoping for more than toilet paper streamers

in the trees outside my window

or soaped and waxed window panes

like in the day when things were simple

and safe

no razor blades in apples

or needles and pins

when the worst I could get was a corn ball

or some home-made cookies

and now, behind closed doors with all the lights off

who will come stumbling down the stairs

 to disturb me

old, in my pajamas almost before dark

for just some dark chocolate

half gone on the kitchen counter

whose loss will it be

to get nothing

to give nothing

to see no witches, zombies

Princess Elsa

no lonely old man

at my darkened door

Barry DeCarli

Goshen, MA October 31, 2014

© 2014 Barry DeCarli

carnival

unable

to will himself young

again

yet he imagined

his reflection

in those laughing eyes

as her contemporary

language was

no impediment to this conversation

with eyes telling where words were too timid to go

as heartbeats, palpitations

of emotion, of discovery

crossed continents like crossing a street

but once he saw

his own warped reflection

in the curve of a wineglass

like a laughable distortion

in a carnival mirror

the razor-sharp teeth of reality

stripped this dream to the bone

Barry DeCarli

October 4, 2014

On Swiss Air Flight #052 Zurich to Boston

©2014 Barry DeCarli

in passing

waiting at a crosswalk

just near the morning-rushed

Minzoni chaos

Bus #1 pushes by

the faint aroma of exhaust

mixes with the sight of tempting dolci

beyond the shop’s plate glass

a face in the bus window

turning to view a waiting pedestrian

both delving for just a second

the eyes of youth and age meeting

one past, now growing

with the promise of tomorrow

one future, receding

as possibility fades

a universe of space between them

across the changing autumn air

the reflection on the heart’s fragile prism

yesterday in the mirror of today

a glimpse of everything

momentary glitter

and darkness

the beginning and the end

Barry DeCarli

September 27 + October 1, 2014

Florence, Italy (at Casa Iris)

©2014 Barry DeCarli