Tag: loss
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By The Willow Tree
She closed her eyes and felt the breeze brush her cheeks. Save for the chirping of nattering birds and the burbling of the water over rocks it was silent. When she opened her eyes again, the effect was a burst of technicolor as her pupils rushed to adapt to the flood of light. It was…
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The Last Drop
“It is not the last drop that empties the water-clock, but all that which previously has flowed out…” – Seneca . Neither here Neither there Neither anywhere . I wonder what they thought When they found him . Not quite ours Not quite yours Not quite theirs . I wonder what they thought When they…
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Where The Hearts Are
“This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath itLeaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman”* The winding two lane cuts through the rocky Hudson Highlands; the river, in reach but out of sight, is omnipresent. The rocks, draped in ice falls, hold the…
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Quiet
Somewhere between sunset and sunrise We exist, brothers and sisters, In our nether world Shared with more productive denizens Servants of the light dwellers Police and trash collectors And tough waitresses at bad diners They inhabit the world because they have a purpose We inhabit it because we have none . The quiet is a…
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Loss
. I held her hand tightly, because I could. It’s what she wanted. It was sure as hell what I wanted. She was visiting me from out of state and I was showing off the city. We had been wandering around Manhattan all day and now long into the evening. It was New Years Eve…
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Last Words
Some day You don’t even like clowns! I knew it. It had to be a woman Swear you’ll call me Call me Call me You had better call me You were supposed to call me We’re just too different You don’t seem very upset I don’t see why you’re so upset He and I are…
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Lost In Time
The Blue RIdge, hazy in the distance Walls off the valley, bulwark against the outside Cows stand like ancient sentinels Waiting for history to happen again Old schools float like islands in an ancient sea Grounds still littered with grape and canister They set their own rythyms Cadences of a bygone era, steadfast Bugles sing…