the Good in Good-bye

How far down can I be?

From the life that swallowed me.

Wandering down the same faded lanes.

Looking for mythical messages…

In this, the most old-fashioned of New Hampshire towns.

Where antiquated becomes motionless.

Laying about without a sound!

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I would put a name to the provocation.

But am not quite sure how.

It is an unequivocal ride.

That will not end.

Not end until a name is pressed in stone.

Until then…

It is the longest of journey’s home.

 

 

Idle Thoughts on a Gravel Road

The air is ripe with mustard, sweet and sour.

Leaflet of grass…

Drenched in clove.

Green onion accosting the gravel road…

And, heaven’s above.

No trails to speak.

Just an agreeable, steered,  waif.

A four-legged creature…

Somewhat close to the ground.

Lumber some, oh the glory of!

In and out of sight…without a sound.

to Breathe or not to Breathe

I have written off that which is not known

Crashing into the earth…secrets come with the winds.

Dismissive pine needles of discourse…go, flow, go.

I choke on the ashes of the earth.

Soiled and turned and forgotten…

what is it that leave the belly of the beast that grows, grows and grows?

Perhaps a bitter forested pill which is embedded in plumes of snow.

To breathe or not to breathe.

The swaying maple, birch and alike,

are crying.

And, I sit singing their refrain.

Whispers to a Scream

Ice caverns scrapping and scraping the back of my mind.

Respect a disillusion that I can no longer find.

How do I speak to trust…when whispers turn to face the screams.

Tell me, how is it the embedded with bedlam human claw marks…know where my faults have been?

I am just a faded albatross playing a clairvoyant…wrapped around a keeper’s neck.

Over and over. Under and under. Through and out. Nothing in doubt is what it seems.

Young, old, all spirits carry their own ashen crosses to the forehead of make believe.

Make believe in the air. Promises of graffitti etched in membranes of friends, long since gone.

Persons and their bundled parsonage chisel a tunnel from my ethical dreams.

Ragged Mountain Byway

This old house once knew my children
This old house once knew my wife
This old house was home and comfort
As we fought the storms of life