PARK BENCH POET

he sees ghosts and speaks to clouds while sneering menacingly  at people and dogs church bells nearby ring out praise and guilt clouds knit together, breezes circle salvation walks backwards sometimes retrieving the innocent while rejecting the poor

EMPTY STOMACH

turn arounds where roads end like poor decisions and empty pockets where dreams the size of mountains fall from the sky melting into an ocean under a moon where new roads fail to create change from unaccepting disapproving eyes while repressing sadness and an empty stomach

CAN YOU SPARE

the whereabouts of being unknown on a traveled road with curves and long straights   walking a town, suspicious eyes whispers and turns brother can you spare, where the diner is?   a meal like others, garnished with haste to the road outside that knows my name   we are friends  

AND, ON AND ON

There was an etcetera that wouldn’t be explained   a space filler without meaning a poor example of skipping words or a phrase   becoming repetitious as an impolite excuse not to explain oneself better presenting the impression something was in fact known but not worth discussing