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The Ghosts of my pasts have recently resurfaced

I have seen them in my dreams
Heard them in my mind
Felt them in my soul.

They have not come back to cause me harm,
I know that now.

They offer me no ill-intent

They have some back, to be laid to rest.

They are hurt,
They are scared.
They never had the chance to heal themselves.

And for years, they have existed, in the dark depths of my soul, lost and alone.

- Silenced... -

Waiting, to one day be set free…

So, this to my ghosts…

I see you,
I feel you.
I hear your cries…

And soon…

                                                                             You shall be free.
To my ghosts, I will heal you.
For so long living in the chaos, I dreamt of peace.

Now, I am living it.


My old dreams are my new reality.
“my poetry to protect me”^



an ancient teenage lyric
haunting comes, no longer shielding,
a gossamer consistency ironclad,
a tissue-thin papyrus,
my poetry to protect me

a clarinet reed, capable of swinging  
a highest pitch voice for turning
blades of clean steel clean away,
now stunting blunting no more,
indeed!

re-formed my shield, re-purposed,
into a stabbing instrument offensive,
my poetry comes to ***** tearings in my
worn thin fabric tapestry, woven from
excuses of why I can’t, why I couldn’t

this is life

moats becoming drowning pools,
castle walls, people entrapments,
wrecking machines, bombardier hurling,
medieval defenseless against modern,
rhymes giving way to free verse onslaught

too late to apologize to myself, my words,
my protectorate, island redoubt, now ruined
by doubts treachery breech-birthed from within,
these verses hollow point bullets re-engineered,
Caesar’s words re-versed, you’re the victim Brutus
as well

1:52 AM
Mon May 18
June 2020
Manhattan Island
^I am a rock” Paul Simon
Awoke full rested,
In cozy bed nested,
And sudden awareness,
My heated heart,
Undulating,
Unnaturaly,
Rhythmically synchronicity with the gentle lapping
Of the genteel,
Well behaving, quieting waves,
Of Shelter Island Bay,
On the shores of
Silver Beach

7/21/25
8:22am
During Covid by Sherman Alexie


In large numbers, the wild
rabbits arrived in our

neighborhood and have
multiplied. I see one or two

every time that I exit
our home. Once, on a walk,

my wife and I found
a baby rabbit, incompetently

hidden or abandoned
or perhaps its mother

had been taken by a serial-
killer cat—every cat

is a serial killer. There
was nothing we could do

for that baby. Animal
rescue wouldn't come

for one baby barely bigger
than a thumb and we

didn't have the time
or expertise necessary

to care for it. And, frankly,
we didn't have enough

compassion—some might
call it codependence.

There are dozens
of wild rabbits

in the neighborhood,
maybe hundreds. One

death wasn't a threat
to any population.

The next day, I walked
by the place where

we'd seen that baby.
It was gone, taken away

by something. I sighed.
I said a little prayer

for that poor thing
and then went about

the rest of my day.
But, four years later,

I still think about that
baby. It remains a part

of my life as a reminder
of the many times when

I've made cold decisions
in this cold world—

of the many times when
each of us choose

cruelty over kindness
and curse instead of bless.

Sherman Alexie
our rabbits cohabitate with us, beneath our deck; their offspring are always safe
and well fed; nonetheless, si understand....
it's past mid September,
the modest gradations
(and graduations)
of temp and the indirectness
of the ever shifting sun
are not lost on the
the skin of the locals,
nor even the
summer sojourner, who
recalls the past rainy June,
and the "who knew that
winter lasted so long"
on this peculiar planet island land

the calendar dictates
that the obligations of the
living are fully recommenced,
and the avoidance of realities,
cannot be excused, refused,
but they go ignored for just
one more day, and the ever
more spectacular pastel sunsets
tease, "see what you will be missing..."

the  skeletons of beach fires
doused by silver beach sand,
are the last to say, we will still
be here, even though you've
hasten to where we have no
counterpart, and though we
will blend back to just being
sand and driftwood,
in time for what we the
inanimate,
loosely call next year,
but not remarked upon
any calendar in any ink
we can read...

forty years some tribe
tented in a desert, before
finding shelter,
we've counted 46, summers,
passed, neighbors, too, the
landscape  dotted with newer
arrivals, and we just cluck, like
so many others, at the longing ferry line,
those who walk on the road's wrong side,
the one or two remaining tradespeople,
who still call our abode by our predecessors
last name, wondering when, if we will make
that grade

so much more to say,
what we've witnessed,
what has changed, what,
thank god, hasn't

but the city wants its fair share,
of us, and our taxes true, so come
upon just another last day, and look
back in the review mirror, remembering
the first last day of many years ago...
war
some would argue that others don't believe in tears
I would say they push the tears into clouds
they rain horror on our mouths' sky
despair on our skin's topography
disjointed jaws displace the mind
disembodied voices displace the soul

they look at reality with raven eyes
a tzar without empire and a fool like me/you/us
they wage war on reality but
I promised myself a war on tears
I return some shadows to the dark
past is like a bird that forgot the magnetic mind
the enemy is kept in ckeck for two hundred years,
a fabricated reality hotter than a lover
a freedom colder than a heart without pulse
without an enemy there is no identity  
this is a trappping thought and
clandestine thoughts write history, rewrite destinies
we stare at hope on blind windows but
we promise ourselves a war against numbness
against depression bleached in abandoned factories
an anxiety deeper than the weight of time
wages war on imagination
this future is held hostage by hands without silence
our cities suffocate whispers and we gaze at truth with vacant eyes:
a king without a throne, a wanderer, like me
I can't leave aside the latitude of your eye
where roads and memories reside
my dreams
more than my shadow crash into you
my lips conjure your scent
my insinuated hand  does not hold
does not hold anything tangible
words are wounds, the meanings flow
angles intersect and lines converge
to the proof or woof of your existence
in this poem the words laugh
at the fragile calculus of tears
as if they would celebrate the question mark
in an unfinished sentence
I wonder where your touch begin, how far
the eye can stretch into the camera obscura of flesh
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