sometimes the soul does not know
when it shatters. strewn about
like glass, existing but not whole.
light still shimmers through each
piece, and the beams are broken,
split into streams of infinite color.
prism
Category: Uncategorized
Memories
“Memories” is one of my first attempts at a larger abstract acrylic painting on a 16 x 20 inch canvas. I’ve been painting for a few months now and have really enjoyed having an additional creative outlet aside from poetry and music.
Nocturne
She poured the light
into the shadows
to give the day
a place to rest.
Now all is dark
except the flecks
of silver stranded
in the sky.
She ran away
to another galaxy,
where, I imagine,
someone waits
in silence, like me,
wondering if she
will ever return.
croup
croup
we re back in the e r
you couldn t breathe again
this time 3 am and your little
lungs straining for life and breath
your cough shook me from some dream
your eyes were desperate
daddy
yes son we re going
will i get a shot i don t want a shot daddy
no son you won t get a shot today
because i don t want a shot
the doctor will help you breathe son here hold my hand
and i won t get a shot
the white walls of the tiny room
are the same as they were five years ago
the time you stayed three days under a plastic canopy
i slept in a chair
friends brought food
nurses brought needles and tubes
and i find the same thing now
as i realized back then
you are stronger than i am
the cemetery bench
wind weaves through the graves
whispering names long worn
from the headstones. we visit
on anniversaries, speak in low tones,
but mostly sit, as if before a mirror,
wondering what face will appear.
how many years will these ghosts
stay with us, whispering secrets
we will only understand when light
fades giving way to brighter sight?
* From Awaiting the Images
Visions
Do you still see the dead
walking among the crowd,
in the library, on the bus,
at the playground? Everywhere
but the old stone church
where bones grow brittle
beneath its crumbling weight?
You once said they smile
and whisper words you cannot
fathom, turn, and walk away.
They carry light in glass jars,
brushing against the living
like a winter wind through
a forest of barren trees.
No Words
I try talking to you
with spoken words.
Silence.
I stare into the past
waiting for a sign.
Nothing.
I sit in stillness
timing my breath.
Exhale.
I exchange burdens
in return for life.
Hiking, Part 2
My wife and I love the mountains. Leaving here in a few days will be difficult, but I have plenty of pictures and memories to jump start my writing when we get home.
Hiking
New trails mean new chances to be surprised by the wonder of the outdoors. This is a view from the Burning Bear trail in Parker County, CO.
On the Road
Hello, Colorado. It’s been a year, but you still amaze. No need to write poetry when it first stands before you.
Awaiting the Images 