{ … lines … }

when the lines are angled in,
don’t pretend you’re lonely;
when the pattern’s closing in,
don’t put on you’re sad —-

light does as it always does,
friendship is, where effort was,
though the lines be sharpened in,
much is to be had

if we see that image is
little more than lies;
when we see the way is ours,
then, to our surprise,

we can read between the lines
past our fear, and doubt —-
for the lines that angle in
also angle
out

{ … A Place … }

I know a place of green and blue
With aging fence and turning breeze,
Where once I ran when life was new,
And I was at my ease —

It is now as it ever was.
My feet can feel the downy grass;
I see, from off the riverside
Some bluebirds as they pass —

And memory, that liar’s torch,
Finds confirmation in the fact
Of all that was and is, without
Commotion to distract

For only in the emptiness
Of what is felt when mind is stilled
Could I know what has gone amiss
With what my heart’s been filled —

I know a place of open field
Where I am young again, in mind,
And where there still is space to run,
Or even leave some things
Behind

Worth

The day is gray and wet;
I place a candle here.
I neither can forget,
Nor can remember clear.

The face, it starts to fade,
The voice, it dies away;
I struggle to take hold,
But all is in decay —

For though we light our lights,
The years win out, at last.
The losingest of fights:
Our battle with the past.

But I will not give in,
Though, sure, at last, I’ll fall —
For I loved and was loved,
And that was worth

It all

My Name is Restlessness

Hi. My name is Restlessness –

Now, who needs love,
  it’s so impolitic;
And what use truth
  when you have rhetoric?

I am the stranger, sulking in the corner,
And at most parties, I’m the only mourner —
To face the world that is takes more than courage;
I know, because, in that way, I’m a purist —

So, my name is Restlessness, and I
Encourage you to live before you die;
And I will wander off to do the same —
It is my destiny,
My goal

My name

The Show Goes On

The show goes on; the dead have played their part.
But still we wait for one more cue, or line:
Those ne’er said words that we have known by heart,
And memorized, as though a valentine

That we will never feel in hand, or see.
The looked for, listened for, and waited on
That will not heed our cry, or hear our plea;
For love’s most fully owned when it is gone.

The show goes on; the dead have played their role,
But there’s no point in dialogue, or mark;
You live, although you’re missing half your soul,
A sunflower within the gray and dark —

    For none of it makes any kind of sense,
    The scene, the plot, the play, the

    Audience

When someone gives their life to love

When someone gives their life to love,
There’s no parade, or marching band;
And yet, it happens every day,
In rooms or shacks, throughout the land

You ask me why the sky’s so bright,
Or why the fields are rich and green?
When someone gives their life to love,
They yield the world their colors, and
Their sheen


Picture credit : Yung Chao Chen