The sun blinding
sits on the river.
I descend to the valley.
I can’t escape,
I’ll l be lost.
I’m  gravity.
My outcome so sure
as the ocean where I head.  
So set on flowing,
and longing to break free
and return.

The fountain gushed and spattered
near my hiding place,
and all was quiet until there were
sharp and loud puhs, as if a ******
fired his weapon...
But it was the rain drops  
on a broad-leafed bush.
Soon there was soft rain.
Its wash so quiet,
only I could hear it, ...unless
there was another near.
But I was alone.
My craft brought the moment
and the happenstance.

She had lots of attitude,
bounding across the street,
loving her own beauty,
feeling her black skin
like priceless gemstone.
When she ran away it was because
she needed time.
She’s back now like rain
beating on the window.
Her father’s eyes open like a meadow
wide in the midst of a wasted hood.

We leave many things behind
when we a cross a bridge.  
On the other side people look at us
and wonder how we see them.
We wonder, too,
how they see us.
But once we’re there
We see that we are the same.
If we look back we see the deep river
that divided us,
and the bridge that made us one.

It’s an early morning to late-at-night drive
From Pittsburgh to Jacksonville.
Half-way to Bradenton Beach,
through rough West Virginia roads
then Maryland, Virginia, the Carolinas and Georgia,
till the final push to our half-way motel.
Your company makes it a ride rather than a drive.
I’d drive to China with you.

My friend left me a message yesterday
and died before I got the message.
Now the message means more
than it was meant to mean
How strange it is when one’s last words
aren’t meant to be so unforgettable.

You will come like a breeze
with an airy whispiness
on a day with no hours,
when the sun doesn’t burn my skin,
and in long afternoons to wander
with time to think, and write poetry;
with time to love in the afternoon
and dine in the evening.
Or you may not come like that,
but in the din of strife
in a world gone mad
Where the poor and the sick lie needy,
and never stop coming
though I’m drained from listening
to their stories,
until I find myself among them.