
Between pieces suspended
voices of past occupants whisper
from red brick walls
Between pieces suspended
voices of past occupants whisper
from red brick walls
all stillness
outside my door
stirrings invisible
to my myopia
yet I am
content in view
deep witness
to every thing
my heart holding
Time🪶
A most wonderful tree
spoke out to me as I wandered
around the vast tranquil lake
in the sunshine of my Tuesday birthday
She said I am a dancer
will you dance awhile with me today
What was there for me to say?🪶
Ask the waiter for a candle
and a light
He brings a yellow stick
a blue bic
These will do
simply complex like you
I know
We watch the clock
Salut salut
Thin like your mirth whisper nature
flame in cheesecake with strawberry
The waiter smiles
thinks it’s
somebody’s birthday🪶
There is then and there is now
before and after
There is
the difference between
occupied and vacant
Pulse
Breath
break
Silence
these bare walls
We are behind our masks
but recognize humanity next to us
Eyes tell stories, sagas and series in shades
darkness makes reading more difficult
She asks me which number
I’m waiting for so I awaken to focus
We are travellers here and back
drawn to stand together in this littered space
I read the graffiti yesterday
or the day before but tonight I read it again
Which number are you waiting for
the woman asks as if I know
I listen to her story as stories needs telling
maybe it’s worse or better
I listen for hints of breakdown or sorrow
but she is factual despite
Tomorrow she will ride again she says
ride every day for eternity and her grandson
We are the riders of the bus
grateful for mundane recurring schedules
We are the quiet constant vigil keepers
careful not to wish for a break in the pattern
At the close of each year
I like to reflect upon all
to note what it is I might have learned
before releasing the past forever to
the freedom of prevailing winds
Then I inhale deep and smile
my gaze upon the new year’s opening sky
anticipating the fledgling wonders
unfolding like a boardwalk through
the forest light of future exploring
Endings and Beginnings
Silences between
Gratitude for every moment
Every song and every scene🪶
Who is there to ask
for definitions not yet discovered
A lonely imagination
pausing to look out upon darkest night
What layers comprise
perfection in form or grace or sound
Spirit of winter
Instruments built from ice of frozen lakes
cut from their melancholy depths
Are there screams
echoing from the drawings to surface
Is there acquiescence
breathless upon a reluctant entrance
And why forever
is it never quite good enough to placate
Our perpetual longing
like Alcyon waiting for Ceyx
Is it?🪶