I can’t let you go.
I refuse to give you up.

I am free. There is no one thing -particulars?

I don’t confess

I like this; I dont like that. -See

the bottom of the ocean travels way down -deep

and this love of ours won’t bless my sleep

because i live my life

the way i want

your done -taking me over.

I can’t let you go.
I refuse to give you up.

I. Am. Not.

Silently whispering

I have been hard pressed- trying to be my best. And in the process, lost all rest. 

Broken, storms erect a wall. Weak, utterly confused. Silent. The drums ever louder, marching to the beats, painful echoes I repeat. What is heard?

Look up! vultures. Masses circle, tease desires. Grotesque in cue. Addressed invitations to the vile.

Quiet! Please be still, my heart. Stop and play with me?

No, sings the chorus. Feeling satisfaction, cloaked with power.  Cuts deep. Power turns me on my head. Destroys what life remains, up ahead. Drains the blood.

Dead.

The world drives me insane. I attempt to love it back. Erect it, place it back in orbit. Black. Not one person hears. Silently whispering. We fade.

Ideally

Remembering childhood days

running home for dinner

playing legos with your brother,

Why’d it have to end?

What shadows crept behind the sun

washed out memories,

lurk, no amount of fight

breaks their will,

rushing to and fro,

cause your world to explode -no

running home for dinner or reading Ranger Rick -no

your running for your life.

I told my daughter, today, she was a tornado. And she answered. Your worse.

Me?

Yes. You. Your a hurricane, tsunami, earthquake, all rolled into one. One some thing. A thunderstorm that never ends.

Slow

Life on Monhegan

just a taste … brought us, me, back to life.

The cold breath

of wintering hearts. Over.

I miss Monhegan Island. If I could fly, sewn feathers -tightly worn…

Instead, I sit

Dream -a

still…small…crawl.

I did not meet Judith Pontura. Her book, stacked on a store shelf. The lady, behind the register, well, I asked her, had Judith signed any books? She had. A signature tucked away, book behind the counter. I bought it. I like to see the handwriting on the wall.

I opened the pages -again this morning. And an address, a P.O. Box with 04852 zip code. A name attached. Judith. Now Weber. Was this her? Had the cash-register lady given me her address? How, days pass. We forget the impact, never notice an island sprawled all over the desk. Mapped out-meticulously.

You remind me. Smell.

Monhegan May 2016

Onions

So many onions in the world these days. –Grocery store blues

Tears seen. Burn through my heart. Enough tears. I will put down the knife.

Finding solutions are easy when we never create problems to begin with. And when we harvest thoughts, root them out, be prepared to cry. The world keeps spinning and who can stop it, to get off? Put down the knife, I tell myself.

I put down the onion too.

Haiku

Winter Garden 12/9/2017

Act II: Evergreen

sleepy hollow labyrinth

hand of peace bestow

“I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration.” Washington Irving, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow