Tag Archives: hope
They kill poets in these parts don’t they? When I got here I saw Walt Whitman’s wizened head out back impaled on a stake flies buzzing round its concomitant rot and stench I heard one of the locals say it … Continue reading
Hope, that thing unfettered, soul’s window flung open, to bask, to air myself, unabated, no past to claim or follow.
(Today is my grandmother May’s birthday, May-Day in my heart. Tomorrow is Sir Charlie Chaplin’s birthday, Fool’s-Play-Day in my heart. And so, in honor of these two wonderful and loving spirits) In times of hardship and heartache my grandmother … Continue reading
I was young, fevered and full of hope. My heart, green in its country, desired to push lightning through blooms, to cherish brightly in a thousand different directions at once. It was and always has been about rounding dreams from … Continue reading
Gauging twilight’s depths, the poet draws blinds to dream– Hope, worn to silence.
Path bright to fathom, blossoms strewn to ease passage– grieving home each fall.
Fragrant silk manna, arising in deep, dark space– a survivor’s guide.
Out of the ashes arose nothing recognizable. Embers, in memory, projected a blank sheaf of light to cover the loss.
In these mortal coils I have always marveled at the sheer lightness of centuries rising to meet love in a single feral drop of gospel distilled to its purest form.