cracks in poetry
are not ruins
but gaps to let
meaning breathe
-all posts-
Hard to escape
Even happiness worries sometimes.
Threads
Life is woven of love and death, aches and smiles, persistence and letting go.
Midair
poets swing too high
until the chain kinks
and snaps
the
fall
is
poetry
Sepulturæ
Our bodies are the burial grounds of dead time.
“Time! where didst thou those years inter
Which I have seene decease?” —Wm. Habington
Seek & find
“Seek freedom and become captive of your desires. Seek discipline and find your liberty.”
—Frank Herbert, Chapterhouse: Dune, 1985
What 45 feels like at 3 a.m.
Middle age — a stealthy, crafty nemesis.
Jettison
Middle age is a heap of abandoned ideals.
Speedway
The world is changing so fast I’ve got societal vertigo.
Fall, fall!
Fall, temperatures, fall, fall! Let the weather mellow and the year drift into peacefulness.
Prickly & proverbial
Experience is the thorn-lined road to success.
Olvidando
i am growing old —
many leaves of my memory
have yellow’d and fallen —
so that i am beginning to have
many secrets from myself —