Words fall like stones
Catch them in your hand
Fingers bleed from flinty edges
Drop them to the ground
Walk away
The words hard still but changed
You marked in turn
-
The Concrete Wall (Poem)
Stupid mind, stupid heart.
I forget and forget again
That home does not exist.
A small yellow leaf drifts to the ground.
Rain patters on the roof.
I begin to bang my head
On hope’s hard concrete wall.
Is this it? This is it! Home now? Home!
Stop it, I say, stop it right now!
The wall, long dappled with red,
Has been stained by bloody foolish tears.
I’m tired, too tired to go through this again.
Rest for an hour, ignorant self.
I’m not staying here for long.
-
Writing In Ignorance (Poem)
always considering the worth of this
the energy effort expended in writing
transient ephemeral malleable
these words one thing to me the writer
quite another to you the reader
why should anyone want to bother
why should I
if we cannot even see our own faces
then what do we see in the words of another
-
don’t say it (Poem)
when you suppose you’ve found your most difficult task
be wary indeed
do not say aloud
“this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done”
deities have keen hearing and cruel wit
with an illustrious history of punishing hubris
if you must speak, say only
a murmured bit of thanks then
go about your onerous work
best not to say anything at all,
lest you find yourself transformed
a tree or cricket at best
forever having an eagle dine on your liver at worst
-
Grief, The Hard Road (Poem)
time marked in shorter blocks
framed by new questions
weighted with anxiety
can she will she should she
watchfulness and observance
closer than before
the world grown smaller
how to give her joy
I had prepared for the end
somehow not
for the journey there, the hard road
I walk
with her by my side
grief makes my footsteps heavy
love lightens them
she falters, I carry her
always cradled to my heart
she is my heart
-
Two Cries (Poem)
the first cry.
not unnoticed.
I turned at the faint sound.
yet unheard.
I went back to preparing a meal.
the second cry.
heard and seen as what it was.
pain and a plea for help.
I caught her as she fell.
my heart fell with her.
she is my heart.
-
A Mother’s Words (Poem)
she said
your eyes are too big too startling too blue
you stare at me when I enter the room
she said
you’re not as smart as everyone thinks you are
you’re really nothing special, you know
most of the time she said nothing to me
moved around me like I were furniture
only less valuable than the chairs or tables
that she had wanted and chosen for herself
not like an imposed disaster that upended her life
I had to stop flinging myself again and again
against the stone wall of her implacable rejection
made worse by the love she displayed to others
a flawed love but tender nonetheless
years passed and much work
I viewed her with relinquished need
still in unguarded moments
her words echo in the background
their harsh judgment ringing sharply
overriding what I know
-
Things Heard (Poem)
the bird the bird the bird
calling an unkindness
or clamoring a murder
I cannot stop no not now
the discordant sounds
my quiet thuds his raucous cries
one moment intersecting
drawn out falling notes
I walk on and on and on
the laughter of children’s play
glitters on the trail
receding ever receding
-
Ouroboros (Poem)
My words have become leaves
Tossed in the bitter wind
The wind a foretaste of winter
And the days darken more quickly
I dreamed with the trees
Our lavish gloried visions
Made into detritus by inexorable passage
Become dry drabs trodden unnoticed
Yet these desiccated remnants remember
Remember with such fealty to beauty
That they sway time’s unbending resolve
The months bring bleak skies and cold rain
Cover yourself against the chill
Feeding the yellowed pages with faded ink into the fire
To warm you through the lengthy march
Eventually in the lightening morn
You’ll gather your courage, peer into the new sun, and know
The pledge I made
The pledge of the trees
We vowed true
-
The Taste Of Fresh Figs (Poem)
The house ruined by fire,
Flames so hot that the brick walls collapsed.
The surrounding countryside invaded by strangers,
Pathways paved to build busy streets.
The bridge destroyed in a hurricane,
Massive supports twisted by wind and waves.
My ancestors were wanderers, and I will never call anywhere home
Knowing shelter ephemeral and beauty brief.
I still recall the taste of fresh figs in the summer
Warm from the hot sun and sweet.