Hallway to Nowhere

  • Afternoon At Knossos (Poem)

    tea led us into the labyrinth

    where we followed different threads

    into complex conversations

    he is passionate about a desert

    and the burning man

    an inventor who likes to juggle ideas

    with multiple spheres in the air

    spinning them with dazzling speed

    transparent yet opaque

    he used the word magic so often

    this clearly was a need

    and somehow reminded me of a faraway friend

    who quotes with mournful mien

    the world is too much with us

    I’ve never sought magic and as for the world

    I find curiosity and kindness to be enough

  • This Is One Way (Poem)

    the thickening fug of uncertain outcomes

    the digital unsteadiness of everyday life

    outside the window a bird arcs

    dirty feathered wings against the gray grimed sky

    a woman sits reading in the rooftop garden

    the pages of the book stark white amidst the buildings

    I walk down the street for a cup of tea

    from a shop where they know my name

    our brief greeting warms the weak morning sun

  • The Answer Is Idaho (Poem)

    she idly wondered in the conversation

    where does the time go

    I answered Idaho it goes to Idaho

    startled by this she laughed

    then looked thoughtful

    I explained further

    it’s true though most don’t know this

    Idaho has a huge reserve of buried time

    just sitting there waiting

    no one knows why or what to with it

    or even how to access it

    but if you run out of time try Idaho

    • The Awareness of Prufrock (Poem)

      when it happens and it must

      will you sit beside the uncertain moment

      stunned into a concrete pose

      then begin to weep when you find your voice

      and in this childish abandon

      hear the work that you have to do

      again and again until you don’t

      this life short as any so now is the time

      will you turn away in fear and say

      I do not dare I do not

      then grasp the banister tightly

      as you hurry down the staircase

      tripping over coffee spoons oyster shells

      chased by questions of lingering intent

      again the knowledge you have work to do

      or not

      the fog the dusk the narrow streets

      the evening the tea the silent seas

      the snicker and the scuttling claws

      relax relax let go

      no need to return from any death

      be a prophet, a fool, or attendant lord

      hear mermaids sing or drown beneath waves

      all these already yours

      breathe

    • Furnishings (Poem)

      say you are happy

      (you are) enough to do these things

      drape a grin across the chair

      wry to match the Midcentury mod

      be careless with laughter

      so it clumps like dust in every corner

      leave spare joy in the outside lobby

      for anyone who lacks their own

      simcha poretz geder

    • I Heard About The Cat (Poem)

      how long have you been gone

      always

      I have never been here

      or there or anywhere

      poised on the threshold

      of forever

      curiously looking into these rooms

      knowing that for me

      the first step will be lethal

    • Careful Now (Poem)

      I am friendly as a golden dog

      offer stories with a nonchalant hand

      share belongings if I see a need

      but I am watching always

      subtle shifts unnoticed tells

      giveaways in tone and body

      that signify intent

      let the casual take me for naive

      my smile can sharpen into a knife

      if you’re lucky, I’ll just walk away

      before you see the blade

    • Repair Everything Everyday (Poem)

      realize what you’ve lost retrace your steps

      look in doorways loading bays dirty back alleys

      you won’t find missing pieces

      the heart that shatters at every kindness

      the mind that breaks on each piece of art

      the sense of self that becomes so fluid

      you leave it oozing over a rail somewhere

      these are commonplace gimcracks

      you can get used at any cheap store

      in the pages of a thriftstore paperback

      on the screen from an endless telenovela

      you seek what will map you back in place and time

      a smile that shines for every stranger

      that brilliant cut stone set just so above the window

      the crow that sits so still it becomes part of the sign

      gather these and with a laugh

      mix them into yourself then let them go

      walk away whole again but go on to lose more

      repeat and repeat

    • This Morning (Poem)

      the chant of refuge

      the ring of the bell

      the water hitting the cup

      the leaves in the water

      I cannot make tea

      I cannot break silence

      both rest in themselves

      breathe

    • No Surface Ripple (Poem)

      I sit beside myself, an absence waiting

      not to be filled nor emptied

      just there as another way to be

      I watch as I lift a cup

      seeing thoughts drift here and there

      attended to only as the weather

      no distraction from the tea

      fragrant and green with a vegetal edge

      perfect in this moment