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Sunday, March 26, 2017

Casked



Casked

I am the cask and the imbimber
Come to a stop at the base of
your rolling foothills resting on
velvety sweet green on this morn
Come to a stop at the base of
your rolling foothills of this long
journey – months falling into years
longing for a whisper through my
slatted boards, longing for a passing
touch – day to day – month to month
adds molten time to the burgeoning
pain – I can feel the blood red of me
bubble through a slivered crack here
and there – once I was the vine - the 
wine - the beginning and all for you -
loved you and was loved in return – 
now I lay pulped strained -
     Cask and imbiber of all that was and
     all that seems will never be …trapped
     here at the foothills of your indifference
     left to inhale the scents of the stew
       of life swirling outside – I exist on sips
       of perhaps…here hidden in the sunshine
       history and future-decomposing in a field
       of butterflies and smoke


The Sunday Whirl
Photo -Peter Griffin

Thursday, March 23, 2017

Looking Glass





Looking Glass 

I ask no questions of you 
yet you speak-in silvered
tongues wavery watery 
versions fall - one atop
the other – no truest –
chubby cheeks give way
to koal-lined glimmer –
Ebon - sun shot hair then
now platinum stranded –
there an infant blinks
held to see his first look – 
ask no questions - yet you
speak – incessant murmur
watery, wavery, forever
flickers – there in just
the right light – with a
soft self-kind smile – 
all reflected back and
forward to 
peering me..
all except 
what lies 
beyond…



(photo by Piotr Siedlecki / www)

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Time bend or The Railroad Goes





Time bend or The Railroad Goes

Miss the bits of you-
blue smoke drifting
parenthetical arcs
around your words -
Miss all you turned
  my head to see 
waiting
until I saw -
the flat calm
of a lake at sunrise  - 
the brilliant flash 
of a jay's cocked eye - 
watching -
all of it -
leaks 
in the solid
temple that was you - 
left
I swing 
between each sense
of you - off track - 
your smoke trailing over the
horizon - as you clatter off
heading toward an unseen
curve - a dip -an ultimate
 vanishment-
until then -
I miss the bits and 
hold the smoke ...