I raise my fist to yesterday
It is beholden to no man
And yet the brief passage of time
Has annulled my mournfulness
I remember our thoughts of death
Each of us, claiming mortality first
And again, I am immortal yet another day
And you, a monument to the ages

This I made from discarded words
A rewashing of once fertile derivatives
They made her bustle when recited
Her face, red with passion and lips unrestrained

And now, this newness I have not felt since her
I fear this one will discover my deceit
My lack of originality
Verses meant for another

But once old is new again
And these words have found fresh life
But when I find my soul again
Then will it bring forth new fruit

Captive of the heart
You are a willing prisoner
You fain the life, a poet's soul
And bristle when love, like writer's block
Amplifies the anguish
And is joyful of your impotence
Above all, time is not a comfort
It ticks down louder and slower
Until time stops and stills it's beat

A forceful pace, it's not a race,
When reading just for pleasure;
Your book is due, you never knew,
More time is what you treasure;

See the people watcher
Still as a mantis
Endless ambient sounds, unidentifiable
Does not prevent his gaze
He studies her eyes; her smile
And undresses her mind
The watcher finds himself
Transfigured
Her thoughts are not easily uncovered
A coffin, sealed; undefiled
The watcher will only find him,
Looking out as he looks in

Love has many types and tones
Depths and heights, unfathomable
And some, infinitesimal
Love is confused and lonely
One sided and disproportionate
It knows hate not
It does not masquerade
Love is pure as the morning sun
Subject to natural law
Rich or poor
Happy or depressed
Life or death

The cornstalks vanished overnight
Shaven fields once flowing, green and gold
Like Dad’s evening whisker stubble
Ghost limbs of the cornfield

Flocks of nomadic Ravens
Feast on the invisible
And scowl with those empty black eyes
Impervious to man’s judgment

And I think,

There is nothing as beautiful
Than the first snow on a barren field
Shadows playing with the evening light
And dance among the vacant mounds