Our Trespasses
From thick decades,
memory emerges, with
miniscule shames and sins,
to taunt and accuse again.
Laced like briars between
raw sinew and bone,
the castigating voice
scratches and pricks.
Unable to forget, thus forgive,
all the awkward trespasses
harbored in memory
claw their way free,
like lizards from eggs,
hungry and ready to feed.
(January 31, 2019)
by
from “Renditions of Change,” a work in progress
Stand Still (Stagnation)
Teaching shatters
my attention;
I return home
to a still silence.
After the storm,
the cistern’s full.
(January 30, 2019)
by
from “Change,” a work in progress
Other’s discontent wears
on me. No peace exists
as time’s delusions
divide all eternity.
(January 29,2019)
by
from “Change,” a work in progress
T
In my oafish way,
I step quite softly—
Wary as I write,
I set myself aside,
and then laugh.
(January 25, 2019)
by
from “Change,” a work in progress
Our government horrifies me,
and I feel powerless–
Each day I read and talk
with my students;
they exude such optimism
and hope, I’m humbled.
A slight breeze stirs
the oak leaves;
dawn breaks slowly
over all.
(January 25, 2019)
by
Lisps and shadows pulse
an aura about him—grey
partial truths like a tongue
along the edge of a lover’s lip.
He’s seduced into his dreams,
limply tangled with desire
for different words, altered spaces;
until his waking life’s effaced,
and he vanishes into mockery
as if he only existed as parody
of everything he once believed.
(January 25, 2019)
by
to Lisa
from “Change,” a work in progress
Holding Together
For decades now—
I cannot imagine
waking without you.
We move together
like rivers
through the earth.
Even when lost
in tidal shifts,
we are an ocean
holding together
who we are
in the world.
We share this day,
with each small embrace.
(January 25, 2019)
by
from “Change,” a work in progress
Poetry, like dark earth,
contains my strength.
(January 24, 2019)
by
from “Change” a work in progress
Too often, when I find time
to write, the clamor of the day
staggers about drunkenly,
muddling my thoughts. So,
I wait, go for a walk, cook.
Eventually all the falderal
falls away to silence;
and, I write again.
(January 22, 2019)
by
I found myself
without looking
for myself.
Only fools question
and question, then
doubt again.
I was there
from the start;
I simply noticed
where I had been
all along.
(January 21, 2019)
by
from “Change” a work in progress
Finding water,
roots slip past
earth’s grain;
I cannot decide
at which fractured
line to start.
(January 20, 2019)
by
from “Change” work in progress
I am open
as the earth;
all rivers flow
through me.
I walk out
following the sun–
radiant with intimations
from fate– here,
now, light flows
into the dark
forever determined
to be free.
(January 19, 2019)
by
from “Change” a work in progress
Once,
I was
not here;
but still,
I am
today
In time,
I am
complete;
Ouroborus
becomes
the egg.
(January 19, 2019)
Amid twilight’s slow dance,
along a moment’s periphery,
always some other lurks close,
whispering him toward the rocks:
“Don’t stop. Over here, no here.
Somewhere other than where
you are, someone other
than the person you are.”
As the voices rattle like bones
in a box longing to be heard,
he barely notes the susurrations,
never knowing where he goes.
Thus, the lackadaisical waves
slip him limply past the shore.
(January 16, 2019)
subtext 