Stacks and stacks
of wooden plaques:
Prayers on front,
Art on the back.
Each a wish
and a dream?
More an expression,
or so it seems.
Whatever prayer
may be writ,
There’s always
something
more to it.
A need to show
one’s unique soul:
To tell the world
that one is whole.
A life reduced
to a shingle:
Multitudes,
to a single.
snail stretches
to view the beautiful house -
too close to see.
Morning Glories
don’t feel slighted
because they bloomed
in the shadow of
Mexican Sunflowers…
Though the humans
who otherwise might
stop to admire them
can now not be
bothered to notice them.
The living come with grassy tread
To read the gravestones on the hill;
The graveyard draws the living still,
But never any more the dead.
The verses in it say and say:
'The ones who living come today
To read the stones and go away
Tomorrow dead will come to stay.'
So sure of death the marbles rhyme,
Yet can't help marking all the time
How no one dead will seem to come.
What is it men are shrinking from?
It would be easy to be clever
And tell the stones: Men hate to die
And have stopped dying now forever.
I think they would believe the lie.
That no individual would have the power to unilaterally change any law.
Because if we all had the power to change one law it would be chaos, like in “Bruce Almighty.”
pigeons mill about --
then one finds color
in the gray city.
winter afternoon:
light drains away before
the sun is down.
mid-Winter
pretends to be Autumn:
green with leaf linger.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 