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the days come and go
like mile markers on a highway
miles turn into weeks
the years are brief stops
to take a look back at what I'm leaving
this time
the valleys between the mountains
the beaches along the coastline
the storms between the Sun and stars
all add color and begin to define the canvas

the journey nears it's end
a destination never planned
if only we could turn  
follow the road back to it's beginning
...and start again
it left one night
when the wind was unusually heavy
and the air was biting cold
it is brutal this high
in late December

I felt it go
making it's way down the hall
and lingering at the door
for an unusually long period of time
I cared not that the snow was deep
and the wood was thick
the whispers of your fleeing love
could not be heard above the deafening roar
of Winter in these mountains
I stopped to listen or to see something,
anything between the gusts and the landing flakes

I had been gone an unusually long time
as you watched from the bedroom window
by the time you made the call
after finishing your coffee
the tears had long since frozen to my skin
and my pleas had long since echoed down the valley
11/07/18
i lost sight of her
somewhere along the way
like sleeping through a storm
her tears falling, unseen
crashed like silent raindrops
and washed away the road
we walked in different directions
intending to meet at the same location
destinations and destinies
intertwined
yet never one
...and the same
new
so this is Christmas
and what have we done
war is still blazing
while we burn in the Sun
glaciers are melting
our coasts disappear
it's 70 in December
and we're full of good cheer
our country is wasting away at the core
the doctrines set forth
don't exist anymore
we ignore mass genocide
in poor countries but leap
to right all the wrongs
where there's oil to reap
when the rich do their drugs
we're so sad for their disease
when the poor do the same
they are lowlifes and thieves
with all our technology, our knowledge, our toys
millions still starve
deck the halls girls and boys
and while oppression occurs
every minute, every day
we idly stand by, disregard, look away
we turn on our TV's
and bask in it's light
Merry Christmas to all
and to all a good night
12/06...revised...first 2 lines are from the John Lennon song of the same title...another artist who I believe was laid to rest due to his outspoken views on war. I know it's a bit early...but I dug it up and decided to post.
I begin my walk
on the circled asphalt path
behind the old Lutheran church
founded in 1790
the crickets chirp
a defiant roar
as I descend upon their quiet space
clouds are dark and a bit threatening
are they spirits taking form above me?
mistral winds on a windless day
seem to gather and fuse into words
sentences
held for a moment...clear
then lost to fuzzy and distorted whispers
'They are here...'
'Isaac'
'Listen to me...I must ****'
'I have an angel'
'power'

before departing
I stop at a headstone
I'm not sure why
but I attempt
to pronounce the last name of this departed soul
3 times
on the 3rd try I am interrupted by a young boy
who corrects me with the proper pronunciation
I turn at the gate and advise the spirits
that I am leaving
a friendly 'okay' came back to me

my God
I have walked in the living room of the dead
upon review of my 20 minute evp session in this cemetery, I came upon more than 30 anomalies including several direct responses. I have been doing this since 2013 and have never approached the level of activity I received on this walk. The response I got when pronouncing the last name on the headstone and being corrected...may be the one most fascinating evp I have ever captured.
what is poetry
without a tear
for the dying embers
the distant cheer
for a truth now lost
in chaotic bliss
the magic hidden
within a kiss
the whisper of love
only lovers hear
what is poetry
without a tear
9/15/18
and in the days that are now few
nights hold old dreams
hope is a vanquished relic
the attic fills with
the memories of moments
that can never be renewed
or recaptured
I crave the flashes
of a long ago lover's smile
her touch, her whispers
accepting the ache
that shadows these moments I summon

I will not let them pass so easily
I will hold dear the gift of love
the gift of life
upon my return
and in the days that are now few
I speak with ghosts
10/2007 - kept 1st 2 lines and totally revised the rest
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