Hallway to Nowhere

Category: Uncategorized

  • What I Choose (Poem)

    “SO EVEN THOUGH WE FACE THE DIFFICULTIES OF TODAY AND TOMORROW,

    I STILL HAVE A DREAM”.

    I look around me to see

    The empty spaces once filled by all we’ve lost:

    People gone; land destroyed; dreams themselves dying,

    And wonder can we bear this cost?

    But I also pause to hear

    The many voices that sing out a common song:

    Notes of lamentation, but woven with threads of laughter and hope,

    And remember that love remains strong.

    There can be all manner of destruction and devastation,

    But I will not forget the outstretched hands, the kind acts, and the courage of community.

  • Conversation With My Father (Poem)

    I ask him,

    “Why did you not tell me

    The happenstances of getting older?

    That the months and years would steadily speed,

    While the amount of time and energy

    Needed for any one task would increase?

    Or that the ability to dance would diminish but never the desire?”

    He replies,

    “You remember, surely, that I never had the chance to learn these things.

    I died a younger man than you have been for many years.

    So you are indeed solitary on this journey,

    Though I tried to give you what tools I could.”

    I smile and take his hand.

    “As long as I can remember you, I am not alone.”

  • Farewell (Poem)

    I shook the gossamer web of our connection

    Gently as a feather lands.

    Despite my efforts, you heard a roar

    Louder than thunder

    And felt the percussive tremors

    Of a violent quake.

    I do not know how to communicate with you.

    My words fall into a well of silence.

    I hear no echo, no return, and have no way

    To gauge their impact.

    For your sake and for mine,

    I will no longer navigate this darkened terrain.

    You have no more need for these invisible walls.

    I wish you all happiness.

  • The Laughter Of Trees (Poem)

    Do the trees laugh

    To see their brightly hued leaves

    Swirl on the wind

    Then fall to form a glorious colorful carpet?

    Do they mourn the loss

    Of their seasonal raiment

    That partially cloaks them

    From over-curious prying stares?

    Perhaps, like us, their response

    Can be both or mixed or changeable.

    I don’t understand the ways of humans.

    I would never dare to presume with trees.

  • Fissured Light (Poem)

    Thank you.

    Your words run quicksilver

    Over my patched places.

    I am shattered anew.

    But now the light flows through,

    And I laugh to see this.

    The cracks of all my imperfections

    Are not flaws,

    Nor am I merely broken.

    I am that, yes, but also and at the same time,

    Gloriously whole just as I am.

    As are we all.

  • Before Dawn (Poem)

    I strike the bowl.

    The moon appears.

    A chant drones.

    The floor trembles.

    Another strike.

    Time fissures.

    There is a brief smell of incense.

    All disappears.

  • No Recourse (Poem)

    I see them in the water,

    Unable to swim and drowning.

    I want to reach out

    But what can I do?

    I am also in the deeps,

    Caught in a riptide and struggling.

    I cannot see the shore.

    The current pulls me under,

    And I too perish.

    The sea is once again serene.

  • Geographical Luck (Poem)

    The rains have arrived,

    Remnants of the hurricane.

    If I go outside and lift my face,

    Will I taste the salt tang of gulf waters,

    Hear the faint sound of Parlez Nous A Boire drift on the wind,

    Catch the tantalizing scent of my father’s gumbo?

    Or will I find the salt of tears cried by all who’ve lost,

    Hear the shriek of a roof as it is torn away,

    And smell the smoke from fires that cannot be quenched?

    Nostalgia is easy for me,

    For I am in the mountains and far from this devastation.

    I am geographically lucky at the moment.

  • What Is/A Cup Of Tea (Poem)

    steam rises from the cup. consider these things

    the cup shatters and the world explodes

    celadon shards and tea float in the midst of primal debris.

    chaos and noise and confusion

    breathe, and then:

    sit in silence,

    sipping the usual cup of tea.

  • Drinking Tea As A Young Child (Poem)

    I rose before dawn in the late summer.

    I sat on the porch outside my room.

    The air was still and redolent with the salty musky scent of the bayou.

    The bull frogs were still croaking from the night,

    The crickets were chirping,

    And a few birds had begun their morning calls.

    I drank my usual Gunpowder Green in a hand-thrown mug

    And realized I must make a trip to New Orleans soon.

    I needed more tea.