Fainter Than Mist

Only a faint glow

Fainter Than Mist

I’m said to be smart but
I don’t feel it’s so;
The fires have died and
The feeblest glow
Is coming now from the
Place where I had been:
The weakest of voices
And frailest of men

The song I’ve been singing
Is old and obscure;
That to which I’m clinging
Has promised no cure —
The lines in the mirror,
My face and my wrists
Are making it clearer
That naught here persists

I call out for help from
The night’s blackened cave;
I long for the hand that
Can soothe or can save
And so overwhelmed and
So panicked am I
Each moment I live
Is just one more
I die

The Long Drive

She drives on…

Night Drive

She’ll roll the windows down
To merely try to stay awake:
She’ll drive out caring little
How much time it’s going to take

She’ll jolt her heart with energy
To keep it going on:
Into the night’s enormity
And forward to the dawn

Her chances, she cannot compute
No trending, no improving —
The only tactic she employs
Is this: just keep on moving

Dickensian

Critics: always available if you can’t find buzzards.

Dickensian

It’s ineluctable to find
That some of academic mind
Will venture to apostrophize
Some long-dead artist they despise

For being what they never could
Both interesting, and really good:
The small, asserting with their pen
What they think greatness
Should have been

Flowers, Forgive

It was just my time…

Azaleas

Flowers, forgive my lack of grace.
I stumble most everyplace –
Out here by the garden wall
It was just my time to fall.

But your strength I’ll not disturb
Nor your blooming essence curb —
Flowers, forgive me, if you can:
I am just a clumsy man