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RE-ENTRY ALLOWED
He sits on the cushion staring through hooded eyes at the wall in front of him. He expects exactly nothing to happen, expects there to be no sound within his mind, only what happens without, expects that time will cease for him, or will at least cease to matter. He is not disappointed. The bell…
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ALLEY
It was a dark alley with no apparent end and I wasn’t certain how I came to be here. Actually I was. I followed her into the alley, followed the promise of light she made. I do tend to follow her not for her beauty though she can show that when she chooses, but because…
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BOOKSHOP
Charing Cross Road booksellers woven amid theatres cramped sagging shelves an out of print Christine Evans, slim, collected works of those long forgotten never noticed a damp chill enfolds old leather as the door opens and shuts on a late February. Morning, my purchases sink in the plastic bag dancing as I walk to…
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GHOST SITTING
I sat with the ghost again this morning, the one who inhabits the body that was once my father. Ghosts find it difficult to speak from within living bodies, so mostly it squeezed my hand and offered an occasional weak smile or nod, said I looked good, but ghosts do have trouble seeing out of…
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SEOUL OF A NEW MACHINE
I Apartment buildings sprout, neat orderly, so many headstones in a cemetery marking the gravesite of ancient rural culture. II A slow morning in Itaewon, for you special deal finest leather, best quality gems, but I prefer precipitously plunging prices of Rollex’s last chance, $6. III Apartment building faces studded with small satellite dishes perched…
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MUSING (4 HAIKU)
Out the plane window a lake or a sea of clouds Why does it matter? during an eye blink the butterfly spreads its wings galaxies collapse Cats curl in furred sleep the moon crawls across the sky a monk awakens leaves cling to the trees the rivers flow more slowly the stone…
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BECAUSE
“Poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world.”-Shelley I write because words must be said words must be said …
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ERATO
Sit down and be silent, you always want to speak at the worst possible moment, whispering incessantly in my ear when I cannot answer you. When I call on you, you prefer to avoid me, playing off in a corner somewhere sampling the joys of the day to be forgotten by nightfall when I seek…
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PHOTO
I look at the photo, me holding my granddaughter. Between us we are 57 years old, she has just celebrated her first birthday. In the photograph we are both laughing hysterically, in the photo we are both young children.
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an old writer and his words 