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Pompeii

Always nearby, Fear hangs back

floating like the hint of smoke

on the horizon. The city lies

in that direction. Home lies

in that direction. We are not

going back again. Still, it comes.

Its tongue insinuates the air; soft

words clot our ears with ice.

This is the time which we live in:

slow lumbering ideas, empty and angry,

tumble through the streets like rocks

tossed by giants from mountain tops.

No one notices the viscous fire

burning the flesh from our bones.

(September 4, 2019)

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We are the Light

“It’s up to poets to revive the gods.”

                        —-Jim Harrison

There are no more gods

to conjure our hope

against this darkness,

no soft rituals

filled with smoke and fire

to sate writhing snakes.

We must shape the dark

to find ourselves

a space to live,

protected from rain

and heat, a space

to sleep and be reborn.

We alone must be

the wood and spark.

(August 29,2019)

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Light Erases Shadow

The sun sits still, yet moves

perpetually to a new horizon,

a new dawn; this world

moves with us, always here.

Inevitably, moment to moment,

color extracts from shadow,

as morning, refuses definition,

and pushes back night’s advances.

A prismatic god unfolds

around us as you speak; words

divide to nuance and variant, 

until blinded, we turn away.

Too much light erases shadow;

we’re defined by what we are not.

(August 4, 2019)