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In the schoolyard sun,
The moon cast its spell,
A shadow on her eye
Where secrets swelled.
Her smile cut sharp,
Like a blade left cold,
Not for love, not for trust,
Not a story to be told.

The siren screamed,
Oh, how it wailed,
Inside her chest,
Where her strength had failed.
We walked right past,
We didn’t even see,
A girl in the dark
Where the light should be.

And the window cracked
On a midnight breeze,
Her truth came crashing
Like falling leaves.
We said, “Poor girl,”
But it was too late—
We traded her soul
For a twist of fate.

She spilled her trust,
Like blood on the floor,
And her mama turned away,
Couldn’t love her no more.
The cards reshuffled,
The lies changed hands,
And we just stood by
In a hollow land.

She was sinking, yeah,
In a silent tide,
We said, “Ain’t it strange,
How still waters lie.”
Her mind went dim,
A house turned to stone,
And we told ourselves
She’s fine alone.

Oh, but the moon rose high,
And her fire went black,
Ashes in the wind
That’ll never come back.
She burned down quiet,
No cries, no sound—
Just a shadow of a shadow,
Lost underground.
a sense of desertion
combined with
a sense of purpose
is a lethal combination;
false, or true.

a gust of wind sweeping through
an abandoned campfire,
in the right direction
(𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦)
will take down the
entire forest.
Kingfishers, hungry; watching
Koi, oblivious; swim
lazy eternity laps
in the man made pond
Tuxedo cat, ever hopeful;
watching both,,
dreaming big cat dreams.
Middle aged poet, watching;
the teetering seesaw
,of urban biodiversity.
...Up close
Some times TC enacts the hunting leap to no avail.
Sometimes the kingfishers dive and mus the lightning quick doge of the koi
But most often it remains this low voltage  standoff til some one gets bored and leaves
It’s strange on
days like this.
December 30th, 2024.
The temperature reached
60 degrees today.
An ice fisherman
died on the lake.

It’s strange on
days like this,
when winter plays
a charade.
I open the windows
and let the breeze in.
My cats run around the
house, and think it’s
spring.
They wag their
tails and watch the
squirrels hide nuts.

And on strange
days like this,
I look around my
room, at the pictures
on the wall.
Hemingway
Van Gogh
Picasso
and I wonder if
they ever thought that  
they would die someday.

I think about it.

It’s hard to envision.
I’m so alive when I
sit in the hot jacuzzi
and watch the bubbles
and steam.
I water the plants,
exercise, and take
vitamins.
I will be gone one day.
The rivers will still
flow and wind, and the clouds  
will
float slowly by, and
chocolate will still taste so
sweet.

I wonder if
Vincent, Pablo, or
Earnie ever thought about
the strange tricks the
seasons play on us.
Here's a link to my YouTube channel, where I read poetry from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, which is available on Amazon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucOOifTukWQ
Yesterday
I started the year
Walking

It was cold
Dark
Smelled of fireworks

When I walked
I thought about the terrible year
And all that it carried inside

I thought about the day of the divorce
The day with my dad in Tel-Aviv
The night I panicked so much
That I almost needed to go to the hospital
And all the times I told my cousins stories
While I put them to sleep

I thought about all of the terrible moments
And then I thought
...

It's over

I shout it silently
Jumping around and crying
Smile on my face

I did it
I survived all of it!
I am still alive!
I am fine!

Proud.

Then I think of death
And how this must be how it feels
Except not needing to go back
Not knowing what else
Is going to need to be endured

But at that moment
Though crying
And remembering all the terrible things
I  liked 2025
I felt much like I had died and was remembering life. I liked it.

(This note was written by the last person to breathe in 2024)
imagine that loneliness
has an executive secretary
who works his/her work schedule,
and loneliness forgets
to give her/him
the proper recognition, and
when he/she forgets everything,
loneliness turns up the isolation
I do not want
a single wish granted,
  because if it is
   I will not have
    this exquisite longing
     in my heart
      for you.
It supplies me with
foolish and wonderful dreams,
  life-giving and death-defying hope,
   hearty laughter
    and childlike vision,
      the plotting of courses
       to distant, unreachable
        shores.
I do not want you
to say yes to me,
  and replace these things
   with the difficult drama
    of mundane reality,
     familiarity,
      with all her
       boisterous children.
No pessimist, I, no fatalist,
no hopeless, gutless,
  whining quitter, I bound
   up the stairway of hope
    three steps at a time
     the longing in my heart
      for your love
       invigorating
        my soul.
Remain aloof, and inaccessible,
and let me dream
   my impossible dreams.
sun
sun moon sky mountain glacier snow tree

havenowordsfor

time silence sorrow distance loss soul assembly
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