Was I thinking of
adding it up
Would it ease anything
for anyone
Was I intending to
contribute my part
Join the long line
of I’m sorry ghostwalkers
Empty hands hollow eyes
too numbed even to cry
I was going to gift you
a sad song
Something you could sway to
help you shuffle along
Was I standing in a dream
afraid of plucking a string
Too many causes in this motion
I was ready only yesterday
but now
I can’t decide anything
With each step you draw ever near Wind whispers come on lean into your edges Filtered light leads you along this one way path Hum your melancholy melody in a minor key You are not lost just drifting through This place is everywhere and nowhere Cross that emerald pond to another side Your horse with wings waits there for you to ride
Street art on these walls
I walk between here and where
Art is in the air
I am far away now
from everything familiar
It’s after sundown, dark
The air smells of smoke
heavy from bamboo smouldering
Crickets are singing, or katydids
And something else
A woman’s voice rising out of the darkness
Over there near the fields
we rode bicycles past today
She sings
or keens
The melody is in a minor key but
I don’t understand the language
Perhaps it’s a lullaby
I am lying here in this hammock
a young attendant just brought by and hung for me
It’s in that army camouflage pattern
In the courtyard, I saw samples of bombs
grenades and land mines recovered from the landscape here
I am looking at my familiar from a distance
From another angle
This location in the world
I am reading Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale
I read it before, a long time ago
It seemed like brilliant fantasy work then
Science Fiction, a Fantastic Tale
It doesn’t seem like fantasy now, this time
I’ve felt the breath of Possibility.
Have I changed so?
Or has the World changed?
Maybe I have been sleeping
Maybe I’m just waking up.
For so long
my head could find
no hat
to match the circumference
stretching from ear one
to ear two
So now when you casually reach up
to playfully flick toss
my pale straw friend to the ground
understand
my reaction may be swift
and strong—
my memory very long.
Small birds
big faces
sat watching
hours passed
my stillness
increased
agitation flutter
passive standoff
who’s intruding who
For skeletons
of lonely children
fleeing villainous tormentors
welcoming final escape
embracing relief of innocent death
cradled now by pure Mother Earth
in graves unmarked
names lost or changed or unknown—
we sing our mourning song
we offer quiet Freedom Tears
we chant in voices that will not relent
we hold each one within this soft sacred circle
where humanity emerges the victor
where their names again are whispered
where they rise to be printed in the stars
with love and sorrow and remembrance and hope
we will never forget:
You are not alone
You are not alone.
Young Man
to Old Tree
gimme shelter
from the rain
and gloom
on this misty grey loathsome day.
I sat on that bench
outside the post office
dog tired in the morning sun
She sat beside me there
attracted to my friendly canine
who loves everyone no matter
how they smell.
Beat smelled of sunshine on fabric
and last night’s liquor
Yeah, so glad it’s spring
she said
Sleeping outside naked
gets to be such a bitch
in these long winters.
Two wanderers
mountain seekers
shadow dancing
on the wind.
Pencil Notes 