Reliable Flour

Too much in her own head, she stops to breathe; 
Eyes closed against the coming of the fear, 
A battle pitched, a weapon to unsheathe, 
Her role: a soldier, general, and seer. 

Who sees the grandeur of this epic scene? 
One stopped, one small, one town in time-flow lost; 
The marvelous, appearing in the mean -- 
The goods, without the value, or the cost. 

Eyes open, now, she walks thus further on 
Past what is hers, and what was never hers, 
By ages past of lines and colors drawn, 
Into the silent thought she now prefers, 

  But this is life: vital, yet marginal, 
  And where reliable's remarkable

Snapshot: Woman Waiting for the Subway

The world weighs on us heavy, 
The world will hit us hard; 
There is no place to hide from grief, 
No shield, or bodyguard, 

And I could see it all with her. 
Perhaps you'll understand: 
When sympathy, like air, flows out, 
It's not at our

Command

back on campus

he walked the empty campus morning stillness 
a stranger both to learning and to fate; 
his pockets full of stone and missing pieces 
and ideas he hoped once to elevate.

this place was strange to him now, in an instant: 
he'd lost the thread of what it was to feel 
before his paradigms became just memories, 
when he was stronger than what life could deal. 

the snow was largely missing, melted mostly, 
the day was winding up, and slowing down; 
a stranger first to learning, then to growing, 
who never brought himself to stick around

and that, at least

we stood there by the little brook 
both frozen in our sudden tracks; 
we held trite truth within our hands 
with late wind there upon our backs 

we felt hurt winter calling home 
the hard relief we longed to feel; 
we stood beside the silent ice 
and that, at least, 

was real

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 embrace that cushioned you,
sound of the ocean breathing, as
the sun set on what was your tension --
ripples spreading from a black pond hidden
from the eyes of all but few --
you were that water.

YOU were the fire:
city lights ablaze, like the lights in your eyes --
hot the feeling, crowds in a frenzy,
inhaling excitement, exhaling the feeling
of bodies alive with the flames of desire,
two later, alone, in a tangle of burning,
and more, in the words you pour out in volcanoes --
you are that fire.

NOW become the wind:
let got of the past, and your ease, and your passion,
for opposites live in your very existence,
they're all of them you
yet they're none of them all --
there's more the moments that have been, there's those
you have yet to feel, like this one, like this one --
now become the sky, and the clouds, and the wind.

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 story you live in,
 mystical, like the respect we all deserve --
 the rain will pass my friend, it will,
 and while the world's still big, it's
 no bigger than all that's still there
 for you to find