Down an Alley

The season behind
is like a stranger
following me down a street.

We do a dance under street lamps
unaware of the future--
once forgetting one another,
once remembering,

and reminding me
that I cannot escape it
unless I were to turn a corner
and disappear down an alley-way.

Finding myself alone in Time,
he walks by
looking left and right,
forgetting the present.

Leaving

But don't you see,
most of the time
we're leaving
hoping to look back
and see ourselves
in a history

In the City

the man was a hoarder
though I never knew him
but only by the things he left behind

old records, typewriters,
dozens of shirts all the same

oh the garbage!

it took an industrial size dumpster
to carry all the weight

and the Italian neighbor,
having had it up to here
with her parking space being taken,
coming out, time and again,
only saying "move,"
then throwing back her hair

the lull of the block
in mid afternoon

a broken mirror
sunlight coming through the window
and catching each piece of glass

before we knew it
the man had come back to life
if only to find his home empty
and neighbors disgruntled

The Garden

Under dark skies I kneel
where vines sprawl
and choke plants.
Climb up stone walls.

Thorned weeds, having spread,
are unearthed.

The lilacs are dead.
Their bulbs
hollowed out and shrivelled brown,

The green Earth is moving on
and soon it's hidden face
will be revealed.

Ignite

Hanging around town
for the rest of your life.

It's in the small things--
the echoing of Sunday morning church bells.

The thoughts of the city--
leaning old brick cathedrals;

Morning light coming through
staind glass windows;

The muted shuffling of feet.

Sins relieved. The soul ignited.

Then, out again,
wherever I may be.

A Past

Up North

On this cool morning
bright sunlight lays down
on the green leaves of trees.

An ancient morning
like old friends reuniting
only to find change.

A Season

September

An autumn night comes on.
Wind comes in
and rattles the curtains.
Somehow a moth has made it inside.
Over and over,
she collides with the bright bulb
from the ceiling fan.

The Student

The Student

The young man left school to see the world,
but found sunken cheeks
and sore, sleepy mornings

found soul-less afternoons
operating machines
alongside workers in half-sleep

heard the drone of giant fans
all around
and saw bright sparks,
from welders hidden behind iron masks,
that scurried along the floor
and burnt the naked neck.

Through wide industrial doors,
with cheeks discolored from heat,
he left that place
into drizzling autumn rain.

In that moment, the dream forgotten
returned to memory.

New, the young man returned to school.

Being fall, he walked the sidewalks
under trees full of color
holding a book under his arm.

The past, he thought, will soon be forgotten.

The Reader

The Reader

Wind runs through trees.
The reader lies asleep underneath.

Death changes faces
in the novel opened in on his heart.