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Darkening of the Light

from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress



At night a light

exposes one, opens

like a wound to bleed

out into the dark.

I want to stay

hidden within

my secrets, to hold

my desires close

like a small flame.

It’s safe there, stitched

tight between muscle

and bone, waiting

to enkindle a better day.

(March 23, 2019)

Archeology of the Present

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like so many broken bones

scattered on a shaman’s floor

wait to be puzzled back

into our imaginations

these are the answers

I do not know as these

are the questions I am

too frightened to ask

 

the fragments are small and soft

the edges vague indeterminate

how they are to be returned

whole waits troubled for night

as each day’s tenuous relation

struggles to piece the past entire

(November 21, 2018)

Birdsong

multi_mockingbird

 

“All life is a foreign country”

–Jack Kerouac

 

All my life my tongue

could not curl about

the words spoken here—

my teeth cut my cheek

as I stumbled over

simple words, simple ideas.

I was silenced in simple

misunderstandings, in fear

of the wrong word spoken

too loudly, too softly,

or not at all.

I wish I were

a mockingbird able

to flit between the leaves

singing the song of others;

to speak earnestly around

the mundane bits of life

we share, like now, or mimic

an old man’s nod of greeting,

or children’s laughter outside

this window; or to simply cross

over the border to a home.

 

(September 1, 2018)

Dreams Interrogate the Day

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Questions

which remain unanswered,

as if on a student exam,

befuddle me. I wonder

the possibilities: lack of time,

lack of knowledge, lack of trust.

Some stay silent, although known,

because the question

was never asked—or

never formed

clearly enough to be able

to be asked. Or I feared

the answers might be

the ones I desired.

 

(August 19, 2018)