from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (47)
he awoke and grabbed the edge
of the bed catching himself
as he fell from the dream
into the day to day details
which grew like lace to shatter
again into falling stars
(March 30, 2020)
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (45)
the field is a smooth green
small lines define
the gain and the loss
.
there is no loss
there is no gain
we are there
.
flowers and flowers
dance in decay
no daffodils today
.
he sighs and wanders
along his way another day
another day
.
time is the construct
the die never falls
it just falls
(March 27, 2020)
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (45)
I tumble forward
(March 26, 2020)
a friend’s letter from overseas
from a work-in-progress, “process, not a journey” (41)
cold rain
brings spring
her post arrives
too brief
yet still hope
(March 21, 2020)
from a work-in-progress: process, not a journey (40)
blue bonnets bloom in the backyard
as a new plague floods the city
I fear all that has changed enough
to become a normal day yet forget
what patterns have been replaced
by emptiness reweaving a past
which should have existed like flowers
found pressed between the pages
of a favorite book marking the poem
you read to me when we were in love
instead of these tattered nets I mend
as best I can from wisps of memory
in the hope a better world will blossom
like the wild flowers in the backyard
(March 20, 2020)
from a work-in-progress: “process not a journey” (38)
seed pods drift destroying
the dandelion’s soft unity
days slip past and I remember
less and less who I have become
.
I too am pulled apart
as memory’s long strands float
away like red silk scarves
on a late winter’s wind
(March 19, 2020)
from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (32)
I have
no
control
(February 28, 2020)
