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Poem – Through the Forest
Through the forest with only my thoughts and the morning sun reflecting off ice and snow. Through the forest the sky moves and the cold wind shuffles and conceals. The previous days fall away, my mind begins to empty and the wind carries away the fragments. Free of what is no longer needed the feelings…
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Poem – Where I Stood
(1) Where I stood on that last day I saw you walking across the bridge. I believe you did not see me but you must have sensed my presence. When I could no longer see you I lit a cigarette and sat on a graffitied boulder near the river’s edge. (2) Let me go back…
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Poem – Excerpt #2 from Sand Shadows
The following are excerpts from a new piece I am writing called “Sand Shadows”. Excerpt #2 Grey sky meets the field past the mountain range, past forest and beyond the fertile waters. One bowl I carry down dusty roads, scattered snow fills my bowl enough to drink. Children run from yipping dogs chickens waiting for…
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Poem – From Sand Shadows
The following is from a new piece I am writing called “Sand Shadows”. Sitting at the stone table across from an empty setting – the space is filled with grains of sand. I have no recollection of where these may have come from, no memory of arriving here. The sky is grey and swollen, and…
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Poem – Absentia #2
Absent of light the canvas becomes black – in the blackness there is not nothing – there is everything we choose to show, to expose, to translate from the memories and images into a masterpiece – who can judge art when colors, shapes, lines, splatters, and disconnected images are the hands interpretation of the mind’s…
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Poem – The Orange Sky Burns
The orange sky burns cloud timbers graying and ashen purple smoke escapes the embers, blue sky becomes more rare succumbing as the fire spreads from the horizon toward the moon and venus. Columns of fire support the sky upon a platform of gray clouds between each blink of an eye the boundary, a division, moves…
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Poem – Memories
Bundled, dressed, and prepared for winter and spring, the sun is sharp and clear, the air is charged and crisp. Walking between town homes with grey steel siding and dry cement driveways, our path is thick with snow, ice, overturned grass from machinery and footprints from dogs, people, and other creatures we only see after…
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Summer on 41st
Stretching eager fingers, ready to continue on a new piece with the working title of “A Season in Hell”. Not very original, however, a tribute to one of my favorite writers Arthur Rimbaud. I look over the empty streets from my office. The unimpeded sun heats black tar and the day has the hazy look…
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Stone Garden
Intently walking the empty shoreline with faint reminders of empty fields each stone or grain of sand unique we listen to our internal voice in choosing which will become the stone garden we will build and tend to. Some stones are quiet, content with their place here. Some stones jump or shine. Still others sit…
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Poem – Death
This valley is filled with death. Take a step back… how did I get here? A few lifetimes ago, I came upon an ancient river flowing through Babylon and I drank from the waters, I drank so much that I fell into a deep sleep and just woke up 37 years ago. I am unsure…