Hallway to Nowhere

Category: Uncategorized

  • The Day Is The Day (Poem)

    once again the sky clouded over and I find myself

    bent under the hot metal hood of a broken down truck

    changing the oil for the second time today

    just to get home from the waster job

    the only one available in this broken down town

    we had a Main Street filled with stores once

    with factories and shipyards near the river

    but that was before I was born when gas stations sold gas

    not a little bit of everything including sex, salts, and lottery tickets

    I’ve seen some faded photographs but they’re ragged and torn

    things were bad back then for most the same as now I suspect

    it sounds better but doesn’t it always

    ain’t no back in the day for me or anyone like me

    the day is just the day is just a day

  • Amber (Poem)

    another summer and again familiar

    the heat the sun the wind the endless sky

    will this one differ from the last or the one before

    or the earliest ones we knew when we were so young

    these will mark this season in this time and place

    holding it pinned like an insect caught just so

    the large smile of a street dog as I pour water into her bowl

    a woman in a full black evening gown gliding on a scooter

    Mount Rainier half-hidden in the evening haze

    a man playing a violin under the canopied shelter of the trees

    as for you, you must find your own ways

    delineate your own your time I cannot do it for you

  • Never Good With A Drink (Poem)

    not good at standing casually with a glass

    filled with melted cold side stares

    bubbly remarks now falling flat

    and the requisite dash of acerbic bitters

    hand me this and I get the urge

    to throw the contents into the nearest smirk

    to justify some stereotype (being from the South)

    I always show with my iconic flask of hot tea

    for the safety of all concerned

  • Room 9 (Poem)

    the bitter taste of childhood memories

    salty and harsh like someone else’s tears

    left on the pillow in a chance motel room

    where once you stayed on a lonely trip

    though not yours they end up in your mouth

    jagged and broken on your tongue

    and you dream of digging holes in river sand

    where the water line is just at the surface

    you awaken the next day

    drenched and the bed is damp

    when you walk out the door to the car

    you feel the wet grit on your shoes

  • When It’s Hard To Breathe (Poem)

    I want to leave childhood youth middle age

    and now the days approaching death

    leave them all like broken cups on a windowsill

    beloved shards of collected dreams

    what use are these grimy scrapes of life

    sticky with longing for what never was

    for what never now can be

    to go beyond these hopes these fears this body

    deep deep into the well of wisdom and compassion

  • On Reading Li-Young Lee (Poem)

    and when you walk down the street

    that one line so sharp incisive

    piercing your heart your gut the base of your spine

    you leave a bloody trail

    memories blending with viscera in your wake

    you don’t even realize this until you stop

    then cannot reach for the door

    you are missing an arm a leg a rib or two

    but still stand lost in wonder

    the beauty worth the unseen cost

  • Agents of Nothing (Poem)

    and you think that you own us

    because of some imaginary line

    drawn in bloody ink on a bloody map

    our bodies used for witness posts

    and you want all to be a mirror

    that reflects back only your glittering lies

    the best the powerful the beautiful

    most importantly the always white

    you are reeling drunk right now

    on delusions of fear masked by arrogant pride

    and soon will fall to the ground

    cut by the fragments of your self-regard

    because we are not you, one of us will come

    to bandage your wounds and lift you up

    then take you to some hidden place

    where you can live your remaining years

    alone with only time to fill

    that space where the rest of us keep our hearts

  • On The Shelf Of Time Spent (Poem)

    blue petals the color of loving eyes

    holes half-full of red gumbo clay

    scattered notes from a cello sonata

    throaty croaks from long-vanished bull frogs

    muddy drops from the mountain creek

    cracked remnants of forgotten dreams

    hollow vase for hollow wishes

    a clock that noisily warns of the end

    one plank only and it’s getting full

    tip all to the bin and walk away

    room for someone else now

  • 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

  • Enough (Poem)

    I flee to the trees the bayous

    the rough bark and murky water asking nothing

    letting me climb fall swim flounder without remark

    I learn how to breathe again after landing too hard

    find my way back to the surface after exploring too far

    under the coolness of canopied cypress

    listening to the lap and flow against the muddied bank

    I rest sufficient without having to be

    a glittering mirror never enough never enough

    I know that I am enough enough for me