our conversation ends slowly
his voice has become like mellow wine
our words flow like a river
I feel the inebriation of his sparks
but desire only sounds of wisdom

that is what united us
when I was a boy

now I reach out and let my suffering
caress the decades between us
love is a word I rarely utter
death has pounced on my life
and I grieve for understanding

that is what united us
when I was a boy


when I was a boy
[2012.5.2...b]
 

I waited in yesterday's sunlight
for snow break
this morning it falls patiently, calmly
transforming bleak winter landscapes
into a miracle of purity


first fall
[2012.5.2...a]
 

in an hour the wild bird grapevine
will tweet that on the top floor balcony where the sun does not shine
the feeders are filled...
at the same moment, watching their feathered displays
I will enjoy my noon-time meal  


mealtime
[2012.3.2...a]
 

This small stone writing is not easy. I waited all day, a rainy cold one out shopping, to find an image that could lead to poetry. One day soon I'll take more time with my small stone and turn it into a more elaborate poem instead of a simple line or two of prose...

holiday crowds don't stop and enjoy the water play of the  indoor fountain
rose, blue, purple, green and red ribbons of light, cascades worthy of Niagra Falls, the musical splashing  seems unheard in the hustle and bustle of hurried conversations --
a  single man, mischievous  eyes hidden behind a camera, captures a fleeting pleasure ...


indoor fountain at Christmas 
[2011.22.12....a]
(small stone, 5)
 

a slow trodding pace
breathing deep gusts of cool
evening air, return trip home
under a light mist, I notice
my eye-glasses fog up
greedy for wetness
and the new street lamps
illuminate evening's stark
into a pseudo-day glare
to dissuade vandals
who rarely visit my corner
of suburbia... neighbors
beneath my fourth floor haven
create an unhealthy din
for contemplating aloneness
candlelight replaces absent
moonbeams, and meditation
will be less restful than a dream
now, sleep will come early
tucked under the eiderdown
with a black and white cat
who purrs incessantly
while at midnight, stars shine
brightly, somewhere else


before sleep returns
[2011.29.11...b]

 

I have survived another year
as my own founding father
of a dynasty to end
at my death, no children
will note my passing

I am thankful
for a food-filled pantry
pleasant work gives me a roof
and my old-fashioned notion of love
frequently fills the hearth of my heart
to the bursting point

such is the stuffing of my existence
and I, cooked to a crisp
by its warmth, will not complain
should someone nibble tenderly
to satisfy their hunger
for companionship

old man’s prayer
2011.22.11…a

 

I have never wandered, though
my destination, always precise
has led me farther
than a hundred seasons
or ten thousand tomorrows
perched at the summit
of any dream imaginable

my road was paved in a lofty
foreignness that wrapped me --
willingly I admit –
in the silence of a book long closed
for I sought to lose myself
in sounds and odors contrasting
with my childhood customs
I desired the charms
of this distant place
to reinvent my spirit songs
and let them nourish on the tides
of my tears

now my eyes are dry
and time, my faithful shadow
has hidden me so well
that I can no longer
find the return path to the place
my weary bones once called home


to lose myself
[2011.23.11...a]

 

A song, well, sort of. It's real rough, but I'm migraine-filled today after a bad time with my PT yesterday.