which has no words for ‘Spring’ or ‘happy’.
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When you were a child, where was it? For there’s always
is just to be yourself – becauseit’s all too much, or not enough;you’ve lost what matters most, ornot sure just what you’re really looking for;and so there’s nothing else to do but goto that friendliest place on earth, that’s all your very own;the myself place.Street cafes, bars, can sometimes be that place:the sun shines; relaxed,…
‘Soul’ – you’ve stood your ground now
they said God’s dead – and lightning did not strike..you’ve held our hopes of heaven; even whenwe ceased to know just where they wereno longer sky and blue and white and grey,in thunder and in innocence;and kept our thoughts of death and life,filed ‘To Whom It May Concern’;you have two lodgings still: withinchurch doors; at…
Out of the old tin frame
a carefree smile from the 15-year-oldcaught on a hillside in the summer airin pure happiness..or so it images..It’s the only photo from the albumthat I like to have around; I look at itand marvel that I ever looked like thatfor more than one unguarded moment..Is the story of my childhood that I tell myself,the agonies…
There’s what we remember we remember
then there’s what we rememberthat we’ve forgotten;and there’s what we’ve forgottenthat we used to remember;and there’s what we’ve forgottenthat we’ve forgotten.There’s a poem there somewherenow I’ve got that far.Dammit, I’ll go for a walknow the daffodils are out.
As you walk out of the palatial marble foyer
where the ‘front desk’ is a healthy walk awayfrom the discreetly supervised, invisibly recorded entrance,there they are lined up waiting for their transport –the airline crewimmaculate, fresh, custom-fit navy uniforms,neat to ad-sleek hair, those crisp, jaunty neck-scarveswhich are forever 1950s and band-box-fresh New World,they are lined up like some Sultan’s Weekly Choicefor your inspection. Air…
So many bees, who know so much
gave their life’s devotionto this single source of light;silent whisper for your attentionto what it has to tell your sight,before its substance burns, returnsinto the upper air…gently burns on altar, or scented in the bathroom’s grace;or here in front of you, gentle hypnotistfor the wandering mind;to which it has so much to tell..tells of humility;…