If I stay right here and don’t look outside…
shut off the phone and pull down the blinds…
there would be no day and there would be no night…
the world would not exist…
and if the world does not exist…
then there is no you or kiss to miss.
In the woods, I came upon my soul one day…
it turned and looked as if to say…
“I look for heaven, but I’ve lost my way…”
My shadow turned to it to point…
“You’ve lost your way because your void.”
“Pray to Him a sign you’ll find…
because the Devil has made you blind.”
My body froze, would not believe,
my soul kept walking as it took its leave.
I came upon my soul one day…
I wish that I hadn’t let it stray.
At thirty-five I spent the night conversing with you,
that this conversation would last all my life,
still may never do.
What might is an eternity with this exchange and you,
so it would never complete.
And when the evening of my life arrives,
I will wait for you by the gates with your cup of tea.
So again you would converse with me.
winter’s tale
three four blankets to keep warm
not the eternal furnace of long ago
remembrance flows through my veins
Marge graced all the years with me
hold her close rekindle the same fire
forever is the winter of our content
This cold holds us down
Snow this deep must go
And so, we begin again
Again, the plow goes by
Filling our mouth so full
Knee deep again, I bend
To lift all seventy years of
Snow, and one shovel full
Feels the weight of time
Of distances I have been in
Of seasonal jobs I did, I do
The grass is waiting under
This snow lawn, this storm
And this cold holds us out
Here, assigns momentary
Tasks, I’m mending what
Nature has done this time
And promises to do again.
As eyes look beyond me
Even though
I do not feel transparent
They figuring my worth
A total overdraft
No more
Than the composite
Of the minerals
That define my being
People who talk loudly
Thinking that age
Had made me deaf
Or stupid
And I fumble
Trying to define
What it means
To be old
At night, I float across
the universe, seeing what I can
see.
Why the truck has stopped
to pick up the neighbors, I do
not know.
What tomorrow will hold,
I am not sure.
I might be brilliant.
Probably not.
My feet will fall in place
again. See what we can
see.
they call them the ‘wee’ hours,
but when enveloped in their dark cover
one breathes the severed solitude of the ‘I’
the bed creaks under my rustle and turn
a dog barks in the neighborhood,
sharp spears of sound pierce the night.
do keen ears detect an intruder?
perhaps he fears invisibility,
dreads disappearing into the inky gloom
and is announcing to the universe
a confirmation of his existence –
‘I bark therefore I am’
I fight the urge to open the window
stick out my head and
join my canine friend in primal cry
He is one of the lads,
all ciggies and beer.
Debit cards in a line on a
windowsill in a pub lavatory.
He goes on holidays
and days out with the lads.
One of the names you have
on your mobile. If you see
him, he comes over to chat.
There’s a quietness though,
like his life is paused.
People like him, listen
to his words. He keeps
his hands in his pockets
so his body doesn’t fall apart.
But I know a family member.
They say he never turns up
when needed. How his
brother has been in hospital
for hours. While his sisters
tend to him, bring him home.
Sometimes they see him
at Christmas. He drinks
beer rather than their words.
I know she is upset with him.
Using the term ‘Our’ before
his name. As if it is best
to mention him in third person.
Ignoring the other two sides
of who he is.
It is ten years
The tears have dried
But our poor hearts
Have not found
Their mend
So many memories
Captured
In the black crepe
Of your loss
Still slip back
In a moment
Of ease
Reminding us
Of how bright
Your star blazed
And how
We miss the light