What is Less Sought

down in the hollows where my secrets lie

I do not know where but I am certain I know why

aware of the grasshoppers, thundering under potted ferns and cemented angels

these unvetted prophecies kick the dirt out of my mind…time to time

but when internal misery comes by…when it is less sought

it beckons by in a flood of wrongs not what is just my simple ‘lot’

I visited my blood in a sense of duty to dust away my plights, my faults

appealing to the autumn breeze I could not let go of…

I am not you

I can be love

Memories of My Brother

I do not want to think of him.

Though…I do.

The brother I once knew.

Born an old man.

He had been more than my father could stand.

His persona…

Larger than a vat of well stirred anger.

Hope never surrounded him.

Love, seemed a danger.

Even now,

alive…but his breathing unwell.

I think of him in a past tense.

Like a folklore I should tell.

On a mid summer’s day.

Rare, relinquished thoughts.

Broken windows.

Shattered buildings.

Five second memories of my brother.

An abandoned lot that time forgot.

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this Old House

This old house has seen it all before. The rummaging of angst…The backdoor horrors…

Three crows circling the unkempt gardens, pecking orders for the leftovers.

Descending much like beggars to pennies upon the floor.

This old house…closed for repairs…missing steps in the stairs.

Leaking self depreciating humor…encased in toxic rumor.

This old house…if only you had known sooner.

A foundation built on Christ.

Dining in prayer with the Father and a roll of the dice.

‘Come home.’

I shall tell you now.

I shall tell you now…

what all these years…

you have missed.

“Nail and frail and lying low. A legacy cast no shadow. For it must have not just shape and form, but contempt for danger…or, it only lay shallow.”

“Occasionally, we have to take care of those who once…took care of us. Often leaving, the participants, stuck between wonder-lust and antiquated mistrust.”

Vagabond Ties

Ashes of particles, light as the air I breathe.

Just a matter of human debris.

How could any of this rationale be anything but our own destiny?

For all we know, dreams that will got away.

And, no amount of substance will make them stay.

Windows we once believed to be clear as day?

Simply fixed particles, for an imaged display.

Basic explanations to love’s effort…that will go about…its own way.

I have tried to reason away the care you give me.

Offered up logical examples for our bliss.

Yet, there always remained a nonsensical skylight’s array to why WE exist.

I am not a poet…but I play one through my words.

Alas, all that I can come up with is

an absolute loving of a vagabond…

still strikes me of being a notion that is absurd.

Had I Known

Had I known this would have been our last embrace.
Would I have given more than I take.
I summon up that specter steeple.
As well as, that rare smile that graced your face.
Even now,
I ask the hereafter, with quiet reservation,
who does not falter?

Ominous choices of two forks in the road.
‘No, you did all you could.
How were you to know.
She always likened herself to beauty being bold.’

Those were the days of romantic sobriety.
Young love in tarnished hands.
A reckoning of waters,
so still they moved.
I moved.
You moved.

I am perpetually swayed back to that secular summer place…
with the worshipers in the sun’s face.
The only thing I knew to do was offer a way to leave.
Proposing a week’s reprieve.

Seven days.
It moved me.
It moved you.
And,
at the time,

that was the best that we could do.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 1-800-273-TALK (8255)