{ holding still }

today, this day, we have, but others had them, too — a place midst moving out and holding still —the autumn sings a song of what is here and gone: a chorus we can hear, if we but willi loved you in my time, and you have loved me, too; our limits, each, like blankets … Continue reading "{ holding still }"

In Setting Out

Come with me, my friend, and see the storied hills: For autumn’s full of love, and so are we, We restless searchers as we wander on Past strands of summer, cobwebs on our hearts. In setting out, we come to know what’s setting in: The furniture we’ve moved, the mental flummery We use in place … Continue reading "In Setting Out"

We See, And Yet We Miss

We see, and yet we miss, as we Trudge onward, doing things we do, The glories of a grocery store Through eyes no longer New

Security and Exchange

The experts tell us every day We need a smarter planet, As though, for all these sordid years, Some other beings ran it — Today’s land-barons own the cloud, Their influence is everywhere: Our brigands roam the highways, then, Of coding, and of malware — The p.r. people say we’re safe, And issue corporate sureties,While … Continue reading "Security and Exchange"

glamorizing fear

the image game: we play it everywhere. and this is not new, though it may *feel* new. but we’re creatures made of stories, and little truth gets through not delivered through those vehicles. through books and drama, word and image, glamorizing fear as though we rule it instead of the other way around

harvesting time

within the planet, expectant, our past is present — moments’ seeds turned to years of gold in sunlight but how carelessly we sleep with our own indolence leading to another kind of harvesting

the illusion

how could he know — that storm front of love in her was always in her and really independent of him? cynics say, “love is the illusion of togetherness”, but that’s not true. it’s the illusion of individuality but autumn is real, and feelings are real — while memories are really deceiving

Three Hours – 7 PM

YOU were the ground: so happy, shoveling the sand; so joyful, rolling in the grass -- soft and squishy, bare feet running, the smell of flowers filling your nose, and the earth itself filling your heart -- you were that ground.YOU were the water: lying on your back, arms spread wide, held by the liquid … Continue reading "Three Hours – 7 PM"

Three Hours – 3 PM

WHEN the rain goes by, the smell still hangs heavy, like an entrusted secret; sweet, like cracking voices still singing fresh where the polychrome bends YOU gave me a glimpse of your hidden heart: the clouds still passing, and the rain still falling, yet the grain still waving in your changing eyes MAGICAL, like the … Continue reading "Three Hours – 3 PM"