Moving through empty space,
living within the void

at the mercy of science and gravity
our feet hold firm to this planet,

providing shelter, food, water
and the fragile recipes for life.

A common path along the
shore of an unnamed lake guides you
over entrenched roots and persistent brush,
the daily webs strung discreetly

The hills of Eastern Bosnia lie dormant
craggy rocks and spent shrapnel under the snow
Lily of the Valley dormant, hibernates with the bears
awaiting the cold to retreat

Tall, arching entrance, centuries old
a masterpiece of the human hand
rubbed oils and rich mahogany
reflecting the afternoon sun

Crusaders riding east pass this way, an
unknown pursuer nears, the cathedral offers
shelter, fortification until the threat passes
on this day, no blood is shed

Each Sunday they arrive with an offering,
a prayer and hope the cathedral doors
will protect their children, born in the midst
of a senseless war

The arches span with wings of an albatross
at the apex where they meet, a green ankh
signals the peace that has settled over the hills
an unnamed lake with calm waters rests near

This piece is about the Washington Ave bridge in Minneapolis, MN. ┬áThis is the same one where John Berryman (author of “Dream Songs”) jumped in 1972.

The Bridge

Running across the bridge
Spanning the Mississippi
I stay outside the maroon shelter
Preferring light mist upon my face
Blending with tears
Crisp fall day
Leaves crunching underfoot
Lining the river banks with
Color and vivid imagination, the branches spin
And twirl, a vortex of hues and painted scenes

I stop

That from which I run is near
When we break, we fall
Our shadow will follow every step

I stand atop the rail
Looking below, slow moving
Water, slight wake from a passing barge
I try desperately to block the others
Passing by, inquisitive looks glaring upon
My body, my wings
I can fly with pearl white wings
Spread like an albatross
The space around bends and allows
Free-flight to jump

I jump

I awake to a dark room
Stuffy and damp, the air is heavy
My lungs pushing hard to inhale
And exhale the demons

Bolting upright in bed
My mind a mess
These demons consuming me
I do not know who you are
I do not know your face

But the beauty overwhelms
You have been here
Your scent survives

The midnight hour is struck
I head outside
The misty midnight sun, a layer
Of yellow wine shimmering and
Flowing elegantly down the Mississippi

Crisp air filling my lungs
I light a Djarum
Swirling in baked ham and cloves
The crackle echoes fervently into the shelter
I stand near, images growing, hiding
Drifting, play with my mind

Slowly dodging the shelter of maroon
I head to the rails
A thin mist
Wind blowing through my hair
Looking down a slight web of silk
Vibrating, stretched between the rails
Illuminated by the moon