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Medusa Apr 2019
you returned as you left
sure-foot fleet & elegant

black eyes see all and one
you always saw everything

perspectively right or wrong
we two were dangling

precipice arighted you
found us to be true

we won the day
  Apr 2019 Medusa
Lawrence Hall
Nothing is more pragmatic than a votive light
A candlelight
A little light
A prayer light
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Medusa Apr 2019
When last we laughed
I was flush to your bluff
By necessity and nature

Joyful unto sky of gray

Comprehension is pain
Outran it far as possible
Truth is a rock, but they
Mapped it for me; ephemeral
Delicate as a piece of ancient
Poesy. No rosy-fingered dawn,
Nothing to write home about.

             * d *

You can’t get far on a sick nag
Fresh water, strong mind
On a narrow road, endless
Desert ahead

Where is your Masala?
Your final stand?
Don’t be some dead girl

            * a *

Let them win, there lies strength
If you can shut down need
You can win a life

            * d *

Just how far I went I’m not
Sure. Still finding castoffs
Pieces of salvage I can use now
Flush with hope, I can eat again

I can truly laugh
You were the one who
once laughed best
Silly as loons we were, so
maybe we could be
still

Possibility runs rampant
Through me
Shivering wet and wild


"Birds can't unchain from skyway"
You said that, remember,
But what if weighted regret
Claims us in this journey

Suddenly, so privately
A moment of recognition
Pure, behind our eyes

Right where I keep you
Where it's always you, Pop
Fully recognized, armored up
Tenderly on display to

Such hungry world
  Apr 2019 Medusa
Left Foot Poet
this is a depth bomb cutting,
a midnight message for me,
a Zola accusatory,
“You make me think about death and doorways and sleep”

no mere paper cut incision,
bandaid and triple bacterial,
a forehead kiss
and an-on-your-way

nope serious business

death and doorways and sleep
and all that is in between,
nightly rehanging the me-moon,
on that curved tip

the onerous tasks of child raising,
you, the perp, the perpetual kid,
the holy version victim trinitized
too?

hanging your self right on that shining orbital,
leads to unquestionable answer processions
ahead of the unanswerable, they ask,
what’s behind the screen door of

death and doorways and sleep


life is hard,
but without questions,
it is unquestionably
harder

find the doorways.

this explains so little
and so more much.

reminder: make doorways - open them

11:10pm 4-10-19 ~ 10:31am 4-16-19

~for AH~
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