i know from my own experience
the lonely can see things
that those with less perspective miss.
for isolation brings
a type of cold, clear-sightedness
the comfortable don't get:
and if you've never seen it,
you only haven't
yet
in other times (2)
she cast aside her prior cares,
those pages stored in reams
that kept her from pursuing things:
achievement, love, and dreams --
she went where she had longed to go
but found, to her dismay,
that all the world's distraction can't
take who we are
away
To share is human:
in other times (1)
there, in the woods, we turned and looked
in the autumn mist and the early light;
then, in a haze of almost love,
we sank into what felt both best and right
for as leaves must turn, so learners learn,
'twixt the cool of the breeze and the steady burn
of the cares and the scares and the unawares
that turns young into grown and makes truth
of dares
To share is human:
yearnings (4)
among pine green afternoons comes
a fleeting realization
almost whispering at first
that power not first used
to restrain itself
will corrode all
it comes into contact with
and even more
its source
good fortune breeds bad omens
bad omens give birth to poor endings
which make for good stories
unless you are in them
To share is human:
yearnings (3)
he flashed across her urban sky
shattering worlds and expectations
borne on an unknown wind from
a little-known direction
and she finds herself missing
the storm itself with all of its
wanton and destructive power
as though just being a thing that
can't be ignored is
all she ever
really wanted
To share is human:
yearnings (2)
does the once sky sing into darkness
the light of revelation
upon the cold ears of the uninitiated
still holding blankets
of snow remembered and yet to come
into an existence marred by
cloud-forms freer than tethered
yearnings buried in mulch
made from days wasted in nothings
that seemed so something
To share is human:
yearnings (1)
back when he
ran faster than his thoughts
spilling into storm drains
and knocking down trees
came a silence after
now unfound
he doesn't get wiser
he gets more covert
like a squirrel trembling
as a cyclone roars through
what experience has taught
is permanent
but experience lies
like he does every time he
lets loose of the stray balloon
of his thoughts once held for
the fascination of their novelty
now ground into insincerity
like fine powder turned to
muck
To share is human:
pleiades (7)
he asked her for a different way,
she told him of one other --
the kindness that prevents the fall,
the sister or the brother --
and like the grass grows both long and tall,
and winter wind blows through you,
he asked for a different way,
but then ended the way
they all do
To share is human:
pleiades (6)
you can't be gone when i hear your voice
in the breeze that blows or the cars that pass;
or maybe it's i was the one who left
for a different wind or a different path
maybe it's me, and the world went on
and you look around you, every day
as though my voice was just out of reach
on edge of something you meant to say
