Objects In Mirror Are Closer Than They Appear

I’ve felt this way before
and survived
yet I am still frightened
frightened by many things
now
that I’m older
little things
mainly
big things
I still handle with
the fearless grace of
those days when I was certain that
nothing
would ever get me
now
I know something will
likely
some little thing
I won’t see
coming
because I traded
immortality
for
wisdom

Seasonal Lover

She finally arrives
Breezing into
the room in her
flowing
windswept
dress
Hair
a mess,
refusing
to address
my inquiries
as to why
she arrived
not quite
a fortnight
behind
and before I
can speak my mind
she wraps herself
around me
So delightfully
fresh I forget
about time
Everything
is suddenly fine
The wait is over
“Welcome back,
October”

The Wheels on the Bus Go Round-and- Round

Right now
down
some side street
as I sit watching
Directv
someone is pushing
a shopping cart
full of treasures
Trash
they have gathered
Smoking butts scrounged
from the ground
Living the unrehearsed life
of a survivor
Fine
in their own
mind
Unconcerned
with time
and what the
world thinks
Living on the brink
their comfortable
routine
and what of
you and me?
Striving to achieve
Believing
it matters
That our name
will outlast us
but we’re all
on the same
bus ride to
nothing
Sisters and brothers
judging each other
over the location
of our seat
Don’t believe it
The seat won’t
be regarded
when it’s your
stop
Find some peace
It’s all we’ve
got that means
anything

Journey

As a river I run
though less certain
of purpose
I run
bearing the leaves
of endless autumns
upon my face
with what little
grace remains to me
in this age and the
stones some larger force
deemed fit for my way
bend me
Gifting me speech
as I dutifully
wash them
and I have heard
of a great sea
awaiting me
where all the tears
of a million years
have become one
and my own
will be welcomed
So as a river I run
through sunny days
and moon fattened nights
when no one’s looking
but the sky
I run

Not Taken

Tara at Caribou Crossings gave me these first two lines and I ran with them. Thanks Tara! 🙂

A river dried up
A long and winding trail
that I couldn’t take
I was unworthy
to walk where once
such elegance flowed
I left it alone
for the snow and
the rain to rinse
the scar and heal
the pain of the
loneliness and the
strain of being empty –
yet forced to remain
I stayed on the bank
in reverent thanks
for what once was

Fix

I need some words, man
I need ’em real bad.
I’m days without a poem
I’ll take what you have

They don’t need to rhyme
Some near rhymes are fine
or a watered down limerick
to help ease my tortured mind

You gotta’ help me, friend
I’m dying, near the end
Toss a couple verse my way
and I’ll pay you back again

One Room, Under God

They were roasting meat
in the Great Hall
beneath colorful banners
festooning the room

I suppose

And the odor warmed
even the cold damp stones
of this dank dungeon

I wish you could
have been here
chained up with me
so you would know
the odor of God’s
presence – that of charred
meat to a barren belly

And to hear the
chalices knocking
together and the
laughing far
above us
Surely the
melodious
tones of
gods and
goddesses
feasting

If only you could
have been here with me

Dangling

Basking under the
fragrant smoke
of heaven