Tuesday, July 22, 2014

You Were Here

Tonight you were here. 
I scooched over to make space 
for your memory. 

Monday, July 21, 2014

Just a Visit; I'm Coming Home

Her door stayed open
as she read into the past.
She'd never close it.

The Masterpiece Hidden Behind a Puzzle

If I took these words,
some scissors and a glue stick,
what could I create?

Huddled

Like penguins, they stood together, woman and umbrella. She clung to the curve of its handle as she worked her way through the crowd, just trying to make it home, just trying to get away from the world as it caved in on her. It was only from her back porch that she'd stand the umbrella to rest, and embrace the soft tears of the sky with open arms.

Huddled

Together on the floor they huddled. Tears had long dried on their cheeks as they looked at each other, hoping one of the two would remember how they ended up under the kitchen table. All they knew was that they were at last, together again.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Into the Night

The darkness swallows
the space around me as I 
search for a way home. 
Without my dear Talking Stick
I crawl farther from the light. 

The Talking Stick

No longer it sits,
on the mantle, in my mind.
Its perch grows weary
as the nothingness moves in. 
Stolen by thoughts, now train bound. 

Knowing the Unknown

Brave are the living,
facing their every trouble
with the rising sun.

That's Enough

Too often, for naught,
we try to console with words. 
Let presence save speech.

Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Tuesday, July 08, 2014

Drowning to be Complete

She soaks up the world
like a sponge desperate to be
rid of all its holes. 

From "a Story of Home"

Her sudden silence
appeared as a slight pause in
the conversation.
The phone masked her surprise as
she fought back a storm of tears.

Monday, July 07, 2014

In the Ear of the Universe

Can you hear that sound?
It is the world, all abuzz. 
One giant, tiny gnat.  

Home Sick

A band-aide, ripped off. 
A stubbed toe, hit once again. 
A heart, still aching. 

Thursday, July 03, 2014

Tuesday, July 01, 2014

In the Name of Love

That weight on your chest
is a prison made by you. 
'Twas laid brick by brick,
an attempt of self defense,
but there's a spoon dug tunnel.