I see but only barely…

I see but only barely, I hear, but just in part, I do not reach for you, because We’re meant to be apart. I think I know the future, And it will get here, at last: Let’s just hope, when it arrives It’s not chained to The past

Last, Long Winter

I think of her that last, long winter: How it was supposed to be — Walking down that lonesome valley Past the fence, and tree lines — But you — you never knew her, did you? Eyes that laughed at simple things, The ludicrous, the painful (sometimes) Even getting old — How many roads within … Continue reading "Last, Long Winter"


when pattern’s obscure it can help shifting your light source

Lonely Flowers – 4

An isolated family Upon a distant hill, The springtime of a reckoning, Renewal of a will Together in their loneliness, Apart in their distress, The sunlight finds them reaching out And sharing Blessedness

Lonely Flowers – 3

It’s just so hard to understand When grass is tall and views are scarce: The great unknown is so unplanned And yet she has the same old cares — Or forms of them, a little bit: How far away the recent past Seems now, when she might think of it, But she has time to … Continue reading "Lonely Flowers – 3"

Lonely Flowers – 2

Most of day, he sits in shadow, Most of night, he dwells on dreams; Maybe there’s a somewhere meadow, But that’s not his life it seems No new thing, this isolation: He knows what to be, and do — When you live upon the mountain, Loneliness comes with The view

Lonely Flowers – 1

Let the ones who know be known, Let the news be close and thin — Lonely flowers still must grow, Sunlight still needs taking in — She needs company at times, Roots that stretch must drink in deep: Lonely flowers still must grow With such contact as They keep
(between these two parentheses,   I close my eyes and hear the sound   of waves beneath a summer breeze,   and my friends laughing, townward bound,   but me — I stay to watch the night   reveal a thousand mysteries,   and hold what I love best most tight   between these two … Continue reading ""

A Monadology

Trapped within the tents of our experience, We see the same stars But don’t associate them with The same smell of wet canvas, Pine trees and Distant wood smoke