{ … 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

Elegy Written in an Empty Field

The day is draped in gray;
Around me moves the swirling mist
Of everything that has been, or will be.
I stand here, looking up,
Not fully knowing why my chest
Seems so filled up with sadness. I’m resigned
To what my part, my role is, now, I guess:
For even clouds have shadows,
Moving ceaselessly, as they do.

Across the gray-green stubbled field,
A rusty fire hydrant sits.
It’s seen its better days, but still,
It on the lookout stands and waits,
It’s almost gray, and
At one with the day.

A lifetime’s work, a moment’s use:
What is this but labor, love, and honor.
These things we strive to build,
Then use so briefly.

New clouds form, and old ones go,
While the water this field needs
Lies trapped beneath a hydrant.
What we need may be at hand,
But that doesn’t mean we
Will ever have it.

And human breath, like other clouds,
May cause great storms, or
Make cool shade,
But in the end, it passes like a mist
Across the skies of other mists
Much closer to the ground.

Seasons

In spring, you feel the newness of it all.
Each feeling is a flower, fresh, unique;
Like love or loneliness, each one is pure,
And beauty of discovery hangs round
The edges of the garden path that leads
To who you want to be and where and how —
In spring, you feel the newness of it all.


Summer on the edge of madness
Broken in emergent song;
Love’s a shadow born of gladness.
Nights too short for days so long

Shades come down on pages turning,
Glances lead to bodies burning,
Tangled up in their intentions,
Loves and likes and cites and mentions —

Summer in the glowing garden,
Moments known of passing fire,
Ere the fall comes hearts to harden,
Towards the autumn of

Desire


In the cool of autumn, still
We stood and wondered how,
We’d found each other in
This savant maze

A capturing, a visioning,
A laughter, and a pause —
A hymn, but more of promise, than
Of praise

It came with resignation, and
It went without applause;
A family, a faction,
And a fight —

The autumn sun was fading, and
The days were growing dark,
And we were changing colors with
The night


With time, comes winter, with its chill,
And we must finally go inside for heat,
And memories of the spring,
When everything was fresh and new,
And summer,
When we felt how love could be,
When heat was running wild,
Autumn,
When we stood out in the cool,
The evening cool, and watched
The twilight gather with
Its purple whispers
Of a looming time;
A time we’ve only known
As parable

With age, comes winter, with its rime,
And frozen becomes attitude, and time,
There is a slower pace,
And giving up of contest, game, and race;
But character is fate,
And all we leave’s too early, or too late,
The winter has it’s way
There is only the challenge of each day
And dripping memories,
That melt like icicles from trees,
And spring starts for another heart somewhere:
Another heart and life

Somewhere

Assumptions (2)

Math is easy, always has been:
Science, language, everything —
But she feels alone, and different.
Like a stretched and fraying string,

She is at her very limits.
There’s a guy she likes, but he
Likes cheerleaders and won’t notice
When she wins the spelling bee.

So tomorrow, she’ll stop seeming
Quite so smart, she’ll change her hair,
And she’ll get this guys attention:
Somehow, someway, and somewhere.

“Intelligence is key,” they teach us.
Smartness is a thing we vaunt:
But, while it can help us know things,
It can’t tell us what

To want


(Assumption – “Smarter people are wiser.”)