Once brilliant reds

Now softened

In a late September light,

Our pastel matte

Will fade until

We’re left with only white,

And when the winter

Finally comes

And daylight hours few

I wonder if the people all

Do fade a little too.

 

–Photo by me

my wife died of anxiety

morphine was the means

but anxiety was the cause

she saw no cure but death

now she finally rests in peace

but her three children carry on

with the anxiety they inherited

and now, a profound sadness

i cry for them

i can’t finish this poem

sorry

 

 

Sixty-two times around the sun

A thirty billion mile run

I’d clung to Earth both day and night

As twenty thousand times it spun

 

My life is four or five dogs old

The beating of my heart, untold

I’ve tholed a dozen presidents

And watched a score of wars unfold

 

And though time flows and hours gain

And moments seem to wax and wane

Within the cosmic hourglass

Time passes only grain by grain

 

(Originally posted 12-2016)

devoid of matter

full of substance

souls are stories

spun

from silver space

and golden time

each is a valiant

epic

told anew around

an ancient campfire

and echoing through

time

our ethereal souls

leap into the sky

like these burning

sparks

to abide forever

among the timeless

constellations of

stars

 

Once upon a time machine

He fashioned from a box

With nothing more than crayons

And a cache of broken clocks

The little boy went scooting

Down the corridors of time

And it was all so easy

For a young and open mind

But now the boy’s a physicist

And studies all his days

To learn to build a time machine

In complicated ways

And every day it’s clearer

What his facts and figures mean:

That only little boys can build

A real time machine

Japan gave us

Quite the black eye

When they bombed

Pearl Harbor that day

But unlike your

Usual shiner

This one would

Not go away

So we gave them

Back two black eyes

And the fighting

Finally did cease

And now I guess

You could say

We are living

In black-eyed peace

it’s a smokey-sky morning

under a cream soda sun

fires from afar spread

a brown-tinged sadness

smudging the sky

the fence throws

a checkerboard

on the hazel lawn

the pigeons are pink

the smoke brings

with it a certain hush–

as if we’re all waiting

for something to happen

under this cream soda sun

as pure as a child’s tear

as deep as a galaxy’s core

as true as a still morning echo

our omnia vincit amor

 

stronger than old mighty sampson

lighter than gossamer lace

closer than guardian angels

our souls bear a fiery embrace