-
ISLANDS
I always loved visiting Japan,the Temples of Senso-ji, Todai-jiothers so small their names fadedas I walked away from them,for while I was gaijin, my zenmade them feel less alien.I enjoyed visits to Hawaii,the lushness of the landscape,the old whaling town, nowreduced to ash and ruin,the lava desert of the big island,the volcanoes, live and dormant.Everyone…
-
WORD LESS
Words that cannot be saidmust resonate, reverberatelike bumper car thoughts, caromingin the recesses of the mind,pinballing off psychic bumpers, threateningto tear free, erupt like lava repressed,ready for freedom, ready to cedethe anger so long held captiveeating away from the inside, nevercertain of the consequencesof that release from its prison.Words will not be said today,fear maintains…
-
WHY, OH WHY
He was awash in questions. What, he wanted to know, did they use to cut the mustard? A knife seemed excessive, or did they mean some lesser powdered spice. Why was the cat in the bag? How do you learn anything by bruising your hand on books? Do buckets cause foot infections that kill you?…
-
IMAGINING
I never imagined any of this, couldn’t have you correctly note, but I imagined many things that did not, could not exist, that after all is one purpose of dreams and nightmares. I did imagine writing, words shaped to fit odd places, never round pegs or square holes, but fluid, shifting shapes like lava seeking…
-
WRITING MEMORY
It is well past time I wrote a poem about the great joys of my childhood, for memory should bubble up like lava through the crust of time, they should rain in flashes as so much matter dropping into the atmosphere in their ultimate light show. This isn’t going to happen, of course, whether because…
-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
an old writer and his words 