... in many things.
I've learned one piece of truth Within my old, benighted niche: If ignorance was currency, We'd all be very rich. For people traffic in it, daily, Proudly, even so -- The more they talk or type it seems The less they need to know. But self awareness is a very Scarce commodity In times when … Continue reading ""
doors unlocked, grills turned on, salads cut, ice unpacked, tables wiped, clock is punched, fish brought in, dishes stacked people out in the walk, signs we once again might thrive -- cafe morning, now they're here, good to see the street alive
A broken heart's not photographed; A shattered hope, not photoshopped -- There's dreams that die before they're born, And others, only lately stopped -- But in the silence, and the dust, The sun kicks up, with its first rays, A memory, like an iron weight -- But who would notice Nowadays?
She first escaped at twenty-three. A bicycle, a battered van, A life that she could taste, because She sampled it, at her own pace and where. She felt the wind upon her neck, And her own tongue within her mouth, The ache of stretching, working limbs That carried her the whither she would go. A … Continue reading "“The Thing in Itself”"
There's those who stand in judgment Of everything that's past From platforms made of rectitude And stones so bravely cast Towards a time, now silent, That can't defend its ways; But maybe it's been ever so. I know it's so, these days -- What wasn't, can't be talked about. And now, what isn't thought Is … Continue reading "What Wasn’t"
To tell the story of a life Takes many pages, many words; To tell the story of a love Takes every bit as long The you I saw in summer fields Beneath an endless weightless sky The you I felt in tenderness The softness of your skin, a sigh For now, when I remember you … Continue reading "Now, When I Remember You"
she lost her seeing out in yards of grief the feeling of the trees their whispers known to younger her lost like full inhalations of the smell of dewy grass that slid under carelessly dirty shoes on feet that walked without carrying phantoms no longer seeing
Oh, my love, the world goes by, The night nears gone, the day draws nigh, And I am wandering alone — In a speeding blur, in my seat alone. Oh, my love, there’s a certain buzz, Like a great beyond, or the big because: Where discovery’s not a fearful thing, And words are more feeling … Continue reading "Oh, My Love…"