Let me not this life deny, nor reject.
I live to write this verse most circumspect,
intent not to displease those powers perched
above my fate line, and whose lightest lurch
leads me to that final infinity
from whence no further writing is retrieved. Continue reading
I love the way you listen.
It is a simple act, my friend,
But for your eyes and chin.
Your eyes follow, your chin bends,
Your smile is red and quick.
You don’t laugh, your eyes do
And that’s the sound that sticks.
I babble on, don’t say boo.
Your silence, word for word,
Is like a star newborn
That honors night’s blank ward,
That this verse merely adorns.
The fear is not its loneliness, nor fear.
Though when it comes it creeps; blows, chills; leaves, leers,
The fear is love sighing in, falling back
Inwards upon itself, a bubble cracked,
A vacuumed cataract. It is the wind
Behind the door held open for a friend
Gone forever. The fear is one thing known:
No one will touch this door until I come home. Continue reading
The bear was not the tidiest of maids. He was a fair hand at dusting, with the duster clasped firmly in his teeth, and he never let anything remain on the floor that did not belong there. Without articulate digits he was able to drag laundry into its appropriate basket. More often he would find Jody and drag him to the dropped object and stare at him until he replaced the offending bit of litter to its rightful spot (the bear seemed only dimly aware that its enormous hindquarters were responsible for knocking pictures, books and gewgaws from the shelves and bureaus – unless the bear did it on purpose, which Jody suspected). Continue reading
It was always very important to me that my child be mine. Mine, in the blood sense. In the sense that part of me, those small things I’d never seen, would carry on to the next generation. And that child – let’s be a honest, a son – would take me and my name into the future. Continue reading