Month: June 2013

…from across the sea….

I like the heat,
people complain alot about the endless rain,
until it stops,
(and summer finally arrives)
and then they switch
to complaining about the heat.
I don’t get it;
weather changes with the season.
Shouldn’t some part of each season
be unbearable?
If not
how will we mark-out our progress
through each year
and the incremental notching
of this march into the calendar
of our future passing?
Bring on the heat,
I want to feel life
sweat its way out of me.

Poo

I take refuge

in the simple things;

whatever needs doing

and allows me a moment

of solace.

I like to pick up the dog shit,

with the plastic scooper.

I wander the back-yard

like a desperate mine sweeper

and search for turds.

Some have hardened

while others seem fresh, moist…

I have become erudite

and jealous of my learned ways

concerning dog shit.

It gets me out of the house

and for that reason

the dog

is on double rations.

Rear-View; Mere, Or….

I cannot forgive the past
anymore than I can absolve the future,
for those things that are yet to come.
It was what it was,
and will be
what destiny declares it.
So it is with the past;
these things  that are unchangeable
and immutable.
My forbearance of an apology
is not out of spite,
but rather logic.
How can I provide forgiveness
to the dead
and gone?
Shadows; these things that linger…
shadows of what had once been
and can never illuminate
again.

Urban hermit

The homeless guy and I
both know the rhythm of the lights
and cross the street in unison
before the sign can change.

He knows far better, though,
the truth of the city’s nuance.
He will pull the streets upon himself to sleep
while I must suffer with a mere blanket.

His clothes match the nature of his world
while my shorts and work-wear are anathema.
He sups on the caviar of the trash can
while I suffer the plethora of my fridge.

These skyscraper canyons
and glass-clad metal forrests
are his domain; he is an urban settler
and I have trespassed on his claim.

The light runs its cycle again
and the concrete river carries him
down currents only he can navigate
as I shelter on the shore
of the wilds he commands.

Go Back Two Spaces

I wanted to lose my fear of

“the new”

But that would be something

“new”

and that would not do.

Innovation excites

when it is presented

as

“option”

but creates panic

when it becomes

“required”

If I can find a way for all of

“the new”

to be broadcast unto me

as an upgrade

or an option

to my life-system

then I will hug these changes

like I do my comfort pillow

in the middle of a chilly night.

Instead they come as prerequisites

to a life I already was comfortable with

and did not want changed

or altered

or modified.

Sadly life has been bending my route

for four decades

and I have never found a way

to reconcile my comfort with the way it was

with the fact that it only “was”

because it once had been

something else

and I had forgotten

getting used

to that change

once before.

Son

What is fatherhood?
It is as if
I have been pushed
into a darkened room
urged on by my wife’s voice
as I stumble into walls,
furnishings
and fixtures.
With the baby’s arrival
she received a flashlight
that illuminates for her
alone.
But eyes do adjust,
and in the new gloaming
I see shapes and textures,
space and layout.
I see the face of my son
like a lamp lit for me.
I see this room is actually full
of love and family.
What is fatherhood?
A journey from the darkness
Into the light,
into the light.