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Ahead of
     this present
moment is a
void, no
        name, no
detail
beyond what
our
imaginations
    can impose, its
    bedrock not
made
of stone but
       sand, if it
were a
wood we would
           warn
children to
   avoid it, yet we
follow its fire, it's
        flames reaching
higher
     & higher,
        seducing us with
their power,
       all the things
that might be,
         glittering
then
  disappearing

There is a world
beyond the
one
seen on
television screens,
outside the realm
of suicides &
wall to wall 
crimes
where
flocks of
birds are migrating
South in search
of sun &
deer run
across forests
not yet discovered
by anyone  
& though I may
not see it daily it is
this distant world
that saves
me.

FOR MY FRIEND CHARLIE

Why am I here… in this place… this room; sitting on this bed
What is this berth… how did I get here; shouldn’t I be home instead
That’s my hat upon my case, and it seems full… of what I wonder
Not my clothes I’ll bet… just filled with more confusion, I should ponder

The door is open… I could leave if I so choose; but do I dare
What am I sitting here for… to see someone; should I really care
I feel so old and tired… how did I become so old; and with this pain
Not just my body… but inside my head… my thoughts; am I insane

How can thoughts hurt… how can they instill this agony I feel
Is this where I should be; am I asleep… dreaming… is this real
I need to think… am I lost in some maze… have I tried to leave
Why can I not get up; just sadly clasp, my eyeglass case and grieve

Why this feeling of regret… do I lament something I have done
Why this sadness in my heart… is there nothing… is there no one
Am I alone… desolate; emptied of all my feelings… emotionless
Should I be sensing fear… rage… no, I yearn for life’s caress

Does someone love me… care about me… do I have a friend
Family… I must have someone… who would to me, his hand extend
Yet I sit alone… why… move… get up; go see beyond that open door
But no… not a sound do I hear… it’s never been, like this before

Why do I clench this eyeglass case; is there something there I treasure
Ah yes... the cross… from my wife’s rosary; it’s glued inside, for good measure
I have a wife… no… she died remember; that’s why the cross I glued in place
That’s why I hold it all the while; so each time I look at Jesus, I can see her face

I hold it like those kids their cell phones; in their hand, always at the ready
Kids…I have children… yes, I do; where are they, shouldn’t they be here already
No... they stopped coming… remember; they came at first… they come no more
I became… decrepit… tiresome… needy; to them, I became another… chore

…shush…someone’s coming………..

…. “HI DAD, HOW ARE YOU”

???Hello… should I know you…???
BOEMS BY JA 533    
I must thank my wife for asking me, if I could write this piece.

It’s hard, to express in words
Exactly what we’re feeling
That’s why God
Made poets, so appealing
WIZDUMBs BY JA 640