Friday, May 25, 2007

Two Shorts

Crows don't play at politics,
just see black,
see albino under
wing peppered sea-salt,
epsom stone-chat
babbling away,
the tide, the beach
rocks, the silence,
a murder voting.

============================

you are as old
as the grudges
you hold
as young
as forgive as
old as regret
young as hope
another day
sun rise
sun set
young as that

Thursday, May 24, 2007

What remains of a person... ( take 2)

but a duffel bag,
satched through,
stuffed to the gills?
What seems to be
a trench coat on
an umbrella frame,
a pocket full of marbles
and soggy sliced cheese and
what was left over
when you recoiled
into your SUV.
What remains of a person?
Not much.

Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Another rainbow

If I could only tell you how my pulse lept at your words, at only the idea, the thought, that maybe you feel like I do, like anything's possible and that words and stones are less important than water and hearts.

What remains of a person

but a muddied duffel bag,
satched through,
stuffed to the gills?

What seems to be
a trench coat,
umbrella wings etched
like done by grinding
a cornucopia of pyrite?

What silence is this
which would make cringe
that person
to their SUV?

What trust?

What vengeance?

What remains of a person?

Not much.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Water or Stone

What if there were stone and no water?
What if there were water and no rock?
What silence is this
where the conversation ends,
the cliff face begins
and only the babble of the beach
rocks is heard by the seeming sea?

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

This night is dark and deep
of home and away,
near and far,
an echo
of a sparrow
and a finch.