may we all be heard
words are bells
let them ring!

Thom World Poet Austin, Texas, USA
Global Radical networker and activist for promoting the live Creative Arts,
at every possible opportunity, especially in his home-city, Austin, Texas, USA

Saturday, January 29, 2011

Normal service will resume shortly...

Dear readers of Thom's poems, the blog hasn't ground to a halt. Its moderator (me) was indirectly affected by floods in Australia. Nothing serious in my case, but it did mean I was offline since 4th January. I am now catching up with hundreds of emails, and will soon be posting Thom's poems here again.

— Rosemary

Monday, January 3, 2011


Our Chinese friend found feral kittens
she rescued them and had them in a cage
They were as wild as the waves
In her small apartment they could not stay
So she asked if we could..we said yeah
Huge cage in living room,three bundles of raw energy
none of whom would consent to touch
aware and wary of such as we
who fed and nurtured them
with illusion of eventual taming and
a home where they could be free to play
Open the cage one day-flash fast past
out they lightning run away!Days passed
before a sound behind our sofa revealed one
who (post scratches and cuts),rescued by us
stored back away in her cage.Two more in two days
(we had to send them away)-to a farm
in the Hill Country where they play to this day
feral and free,with their own territory
When life is a cage,always best to find a way
to play(outside the cage)


Speak.Share .Exchange.Value.
Assume nothing(not even that-
people have died before you
and others will live after
Seek via questions that Grail comprehension
where explanation fits form of facts like clothes skin
Science allows experiments.We are one.
Everything possible.All different-
even in the sameness of the search.
Even AHA! moments have ennui after
gaps between Illuminations still fill Manuscripts
The Golden Precious less than Miracles
Anyone who knows still keeps secrets
Feel your way in a braille room-
stretch like a cat ,comfortable in fur
Claw through dissertations ,scratch falseness like fleas
Recognize the limits of analogies
Metaphor a shell for peanut truths.
Nutritious ,awaiting you.
Your Muse!


scrappy black wilde cat adopted me
in our open house,roamed free
until one day she looked at me
and died in front of me
All her life in that one moment
one diamond focus

Gift from Christina.Scared cat
hiding in cupboards,attacked by all others
Soon became Queen of our home
adored by all who visited.She
came back from the dead to say farewell
We never saw her again

Over our fence with a collar but adopting us
Male with muscle and a hard loving nature
Last I saw he was staring from the hood of our car
His paw prints in dust remind us

Rescued from death/last in the line
Her eyes challenged anyone to take her home
They still flash feral/even when she is happy here
Occasionally a scratch from a claw-more purrs of contentment
She lives,we love-she trains us in THE WAYS OF CAT


baby two steps in to new
already olde ears will not do
open and attuned/need to love the knew
wise women listen before they speak
time is a burglar/creeps
in to the house of our attention/steals
lives when we lose focus on them
a tension exists/between forgetting
and your world/words and ensuing silences
dictatorship is linear demands we follow
there is no past/nor tomorrow
only to day,second hand
on a watch that poets know-midnight to dawn
asking when and if the thief of time
will steal in to our dreams,and take
more life and breath than we can make?

The gift is free/will/and we/who
practice willful archery seek the target BULLseye
Close to skin truth ,wrapped in swaddling clothes
the gift of extra time extends this matinee/when
we slept through cartoons,feature length life films and
asked only to be allowed to continue then
even when we could not be as we were.
Too many gone  through that thin rope door
They are not coming back/metaphor
fails to wake us up in time for our next act
It is to convince ourselves that fantasies are facts

Imagine if and when our dreams come true
These birds rest in the tree of (hu)man and the nest of you
Out on a limb on a branch made for two-
you and the you who will be,new.

Saturday, January 1, 2011


when young,world of sun
bright and brave/no frontiers
everything expands with age
Turn around-ghosts(gone
taking part of our lives with them
(you can only talk to the living
and even then only partially
Now instead of inventory missing
counting those still living
The world's burden lifted by Atlas
Tantalus rolls stones and rocks back and forth
What is most obvious awaits us-
what is in front of us-each day's doings
every moment's shining choices
Here is your voice.Sing,chant,pray,
swear,shout,defame-your choice
only exists while you are with us
Resonance exists after you leave
We remember/grieve/forget/move on
to those daily doings demanding
 our immediate attention
on 1/1/11

Remembering our poetic ancestors-those alive in skin and dreaming...