UP THERE

The moon   a legend in the sky   a face to talk to a light to cry under   a beacon for our paths alongside rivers shorelines and late night sidewalks   we observe from here at the basement of gravity a beauty that haunts us. Advertisements

NIGHT REST

I’m on my own line   there’s no sideways just the only road I know   a nameless opening to slip through   the green grass on the other side is well past and without flavor to remember and faces forgotten   night rest now comes easy

THE VOICES

she holds close the pain careful not to break it   like a hunger she feeds it in morning speaking to it at night   grieving flows within watering the splinters of thoughts embedded in memories   helping her is not easy when the voices attack me   I know she’s still alive inside when … More THE VOICES

WALKING HOME

A slap of cold air bruised blue the covering of my skin   A bullying wind caught me by the neck twisting my hat   yesterday’s newspaper jumped from the grasp of a fence lodging at my ankles like a homeless pup   night pulls dark over my steps.          

SOFTLY WE GO

The words spoken were like threads thinning at the elbow, deep thoughts from a cold heart with warm hands   a story of the distant from here about adding to the next step after the last one taken   speaking darkly about alleys cutting between buildings of memories and voices at the clothesline or the … More SOFTLY WE GO

OVER AND AROUND

It was a summer day spent away on a road without names or numbers an unknown destination absent of stress a wind away from the start a breath nearer to the end a back road where long shadows are welcome and night breezes welcome the passage of gardenias and the sound of very little or … More OVER AND AROUND

PARK STREET

Late into night images appear on the ceiling of my bedroom sharp angles momentary slivers of car lights traffic signals neon flashes crawling, colliding   perishable images appearing then vanishing without sound as the slip down melting onto the wall  

NOT SURE

Voices in the hallway soft like parchment falling to the floor   muffled words pressing against morning air as shadows cross over cracked plaster walls   there was an intentional restraint of voices creating a curious drama for those listening behind closed doors   it sounded like promises were presented to return   sighs of … More NOT SURE

SWING ON

The world past the front porch, watching the same clouds set in the magic of the sky   prayers lift up from swings and wicker chairs escaping through tired screens   cars passing know only of roads, the next corner the direction home or close to it   train whistles cross over buildings and empty … More SWING ON

A GENTLE END

Leaves arrange for night, the aroma of dark green stays close to the branches   crickets capture a cruel cadence   velvet breezes close the roses and day lilies   reed tops lightly rustle a sandpaper hymn   fireflies light a path to the nearest screen door flashing creative energy   everything is painted with … More A GENTLE END