Hallway to Nowhere

Category: poems

  • New Orleans, Natchez, Natchitoches (Poem)

    this bar my respite from the town’s primary occupation

    that of presenting facade just as brutal in effect as the original

    genteel beauty serves the monied and the tourists

    gardened grounds available for a suitable fee

    the slave post for trade demolished and largely unmentioned

    the crack of the whip and the ring of the chain still echo in the streets

    District homes with storied pasts still preside with pride of place

    in their shadows long cast labor those who keep them

    one day some day one of them will take a match and strike

    see how long it takes to burn this to the ground

  • In The Shadow Of The Generator (Song)

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    what did he dream

    did he crawl into the bang and thrum

    make a nest inside the clang and hum

    turn his heart into the piston’s drum

    sleep as machined

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    what did he dream

    did he dream of the past when he was so young

    did he dream of the present while he was still strong

    did he dream of the future when he’d be so old

    did he dream of nothing hungry and cold

    tired beyond means

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    what did he dream

    did he hear the mountains sing of rocks and creeks

    of labyrinth roads with views so bleak

    of ridges blue and limned in smoke

    where he would die

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    in the shadow of the generator the generator the generator

    what did he dream

  • Lesson #31

    he did not choose to tell me

    I chose not to ask

    I gave space for what he said

    listened also to what was not

    when he left I said goodbye

    I do not think he heard

    I bid farewell to the ghost

    of the person I had thought him to be

    it does not matter I’ve come to see

    I do not even know myself

    so cannot presume to know another

  • Traveling Light (Poem)

    my heart is heavy so I leave it

    discarded on the street

    half hidden by a dented can

    I had wrapped it so carefully

    in strong local thread

    kindness gathered throughout the years

    then placed it unwisely

    and a knife blade sliced though

    love weighs so much

    anchors me to place and time

    a ballast to somewhere I can no longer be

    I travel soon no road no map

    one memory resting in that raw space

    tears easily turn to rain

    body to dirt laughter to stars

    I’ve no fear about this journey

  • How We Survive (Poem)

    though this was not forecast, rain fell in the mountains

    fell in such torrents that creeks became rivers

    rivers turned raging and joined with the storm

    all we held dear all we called ours many we loved

    washed away down ridge then the ridge itself disappeared

    these days seem like that time as grief hits us hard

    batters us each without end in sight

    the sharing of tears holds us through this dark night 

    we reach for each other in the morning

    nothing restores what we’re lost, no way to bring back what is gone 

    but brief glimpses of love give us strength to remember

    these memories a foundation for this present home

    (for R, with deep affection)

  • Another Wildfire (Poem)

    I turn away from you all

    curl upon myself like a leaf

    that folds when consumed by fire

    I watch myself burn

    icy flames reducing everything to cinders

    tears do no good so laugh instead

    bitterness mixing with acceptance

    I wonder with detached interest

    where I will go when I arise

    empty and empty-handed

    dirty with ashy gray smears

  • Container (Poem)

    snow arrives in the morning 

    quieting the landscape with a monotonous sigh

    the hush unbroken even by raucous black crows

    winter’s offering given without expectation

    a brief pause in time and space

    for whatever asks to be held close or let go

    opportunity so take it

    let what needs settle into fallow ground

    pass upwards into scudding clouds 

    grief joy tears laughter all equal

    this season I bury unforeseen woes in the hard frozen dirt

    send unexpected happiness to spread with the icy flakes

    wrap kindness found in common encounters

    around me as a blanket

    warm in the mournful hours of night

  • Nameless Homeless His End

    did he stand there before that day that hour that minute that moment

    wondering what the impact would bring other than an end

    was it an opportunity seized without forethought

    the result of some altered state overlaid upon longstanding suffering

    however he came to this act it was final 

    the stop to all that had come before and one that had no backing out

    death by train is not even a gamble

    but a surety as certain as any high jump

    its whistle blast a warning this is no playtime nor rehearsal

    serving also for him afterwards a long lonely sound of mourning

    the only cry of recognition the only cry of grief he received

  • What Waters The Eyes Waters The Heart (Poem)

    unexpected kindness brings sudden tears

    in the winter blamed on the wind’s cold bite

    the warmth from chance encounters

    sustains through the hours of bitter grief

    sly common meanness stings the eyes

    this gets passed as lingering illness

    the chill at each foul brush

    reinforces the awareness of good

    the necessity of being able to discern the difference

    the determination as to which to bring

  • I Did Nothing (Poem)

    I will be sifting through lentils for stones

    letting them run between my fingers

    then just as casually I drift away, gone

    I will be walking across the neighboring field

    stopping with interest to observe a fiery leaf

    then without warning crumple myself, stilled

    I will be sitting in some hard plastic chair

    waiting to be seen in a nondescript room

    then silently take one last labored breath, no more

    no loud and wild passage

    a quiet step beyond

    unremarkable and unremarked

    unnoticed except by a few