Lingering
Out here, amid the green and gray
Of summertime;

Wondering
At all the magic yet to be and
Gone away –

Glistening
The dew out on the grass and weeds
And silent trees,

Murmuring
The shadows of the bills I’ve
Yet to pay —

  Those who know don’t dare to speak;
  Those who speak don’t care to know.
  Where now does the spirit roam,
  Where all should I go?

Memory
Is like a curse that comes wrapped up
In chocolate,

Eating which
Is comforting and vexing
All the same.

Poetry
Is candy that comes stuffed inside
Our tragedies;

So we speak
And swing into the vortex
And the flame —

  Those who care don’t dare to speak;
  Those who speak don’t dare to care.
  Where now does the spirit roam,
  How all can I get there?

  Those who know just walk away,
  Far away they slowly walk,
  Where now does the spirit roam,
  And why do
  I balk?