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MOVING ON
NOTE: TODAY’S POST FOLLOWS BELOW: Dear poetry-lovers, Thank you from the bottom of my heart for following my blog. Some of you have been daily readers since it began 9 years ago, some are more sporadic or more recent followers. Thank you one and all. As you can imagine, it takes a fair amount…
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NO FAREWELLS
You’ve been gone something liketwenty-two years now, althoughit doesn’t seem all that long to me.It is like I saw you five years agoand even that seems longer than real.They tell me I was fifty whenyou departed but I can’t clearly recallwhat it was like to be fifty.I know I never said goodbye to youand I…
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ACT 1
His life was a collapsing theaterof the absurd and he was holding on tightlybut it was slipping through his fingers.It was not supposed to be this way,this was not the play he envisioned, yethe was here, in a cold table read, andnone of the assembled were certain wherethe evolving script might take them.He had imagined…
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GAZING
She says that for a small fee shecan guide me through my prior lives,introduce me to former loves, let mewatch the battles in which I fought,shield me from scenes of battlein which I died or was wounded.She says I will see many I now knowin my present, recognize how wewere once connected so our presentconnections…
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THE ALCHEMISTS HAND
He said that we are an amalgamof nature and nurture, and oftenthere is no real distinction between them.If only that were my case,I am bifurcated between whatI know what I imagine,lived and what I might have,what was imposedon me by otherssome of which others left me Ifor those they call their own.Blood may or may…
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NOTHING TO FEAR BUT
He knew his emotions swunglike a pendulum in an everwidening arc, and that centralto the swings was the pit of fearon the precipice of whichhe found himself yet again.Some days it was the fear of rejection,that was a practiced reality for himyet never less intensely painful.Other days it was the fear of acceptancefor with that…
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WORDS, WORDS, WORDS
They can have sharp edgesthat wound on contact, some cutsso deep they leave lasting scars. They can get stuck in the throatuntil you feel you can no longerbreathe, no longer cry out for help. They can lie there, anaggregate always acretingand yet rejecting any meaning. Or they can, carefully chosenpresent great beauty, offerhope, promise freedom.…
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IN MOTION
This time when we move the question could be asked, are we moving to somewhere or away from somewhere or, you fear asking, away from someone. That may be a truth left unsaid, saying requires an explanation, a ripping open of a wound just scabbed over or still raw around the edges. And there is…
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TURNING
He says, “I’ve run out of cheeks, my own family has used up so many and there are so few left, I save them to have one to turn when someone sincerely and truly atones.” “I suppose,” she says, “there is some logic to that.” “Not at all,” he replies, “for if someone truly atones,…
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Q AND A: SOMEWHERE
Somewhere deep within complete uncertainty lies the answer to the question we are reluctant or unwilling to ask. The only problem is that in peeling back the fear and trepidation we risk reopening wounds we have long forgotten, that are scarred over. Is it the answer we fear or the question, or the inability to…
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an old writer and his words 