And Silent Silent Silent Go
And silent silent silent go
the last footsteps
of falling day
and silent silent silent fall
the glor’ious stars
of our decay
I stood nearby
affixed
in thought
as you peered through
the spying glass
to southern shores
dark blue
beneath
the fields
and rolling
hills of grass
I said to you
my friend
my love
one day these shores
will cease
to be
but you looked on
adrift
in thought
as the waves
rolled forward
silently
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 18 (Oxford, UK)
Jazz Wafts
Jazz wafts
through the darkness
of the lake. . .
past hunched trees
and grass
like clumped rice,
tissue-paper clover,
past glazed sand
and gravel
in the road,
forgotten boulders,
past street lamps
and their pale
amber glow.
On a boulder
sits a bottle.
It asks for nothing,
gives nothing in return.
The blank hum of crickets.
“It so happens I am sick of being a man. . .”
I leave the bottle
and walk on,
into the darkness. . .
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
Sara
Sunlight.
Her face was narrow.
The luminescent green sea.
Her elegant neck and slight fingers.
Silver jewelry.
To grow up when it was fashionable to be young.
Mistakes and great happiness conquered the world.
This is the impression twisted.
She smiled and talked and took careful inhalations of another
cigarette.
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
The Path
Down the path
still water
the fallen birch
like a charm
encased in black glass
moonlight
soft glow of
hidden cabin
∆ Appeared in FIRE: No. 14 (Oxford, UK)
The Blues Brothers (7-9er)
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A little exaggerated, but fairly accurate…
Lamenting the decline of good conversation
– The Boston Globe
IF I HAD to guess at the three most spoken words in the English language – or what passes for English in 21st-century America – my nominees would be: “And I’m like.”
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