in odysseys of my life,
I'd recourse in the warmth
of the simplest of sunlights.

All the wax spent
flame went
wick yet glowing
as if to whimper
I don’t want to die.

Do you know someone
who’s in the background of your day
and when you pause
if you’re lucky
you remember and smile
can’t suppress a thank you
but feel just a tint of sadness
they’re not in the foreground?

To feast one moment at a time
on a bite of eternity
what a blessed gift!

I have heard the word as a condemnation
by a religious hierarchy
which meant a severing of ties with a wayward sinner,
ostracism the worse thing for
one interested in staying -
this loneliness and pain desired by the keepers of the norm.

But I think of those with whom my communication is ex.
Al, my former close friend who turned his norms onto me
Jackie, a good and loving woman now gone
James, a man who no longer wants to have lunch with me.
There are a few more
who’ve wittingly or not
closed the door
but in every case a kind of sad weight
abides near my heart, a pain that literally aches
with tears just behind  my eyes.

Handing out wings

like they were portions of God

this narrow asphalt

made by architects of tourism

movers of time and space

reaching out like insane astronauts or genius heretics

breathing our iodine

becoming halogens

the sky moves sideways

dystrophic airwaves

feeble beacons

eerie radio silence

here come more perils from the sky

Talk to me in Spring
of bright and coming things
a butterfly wing of words

Talk to me
in drowsy tones of endless Summer haze
fill the lengthening days

Talk to me
in woodsmoke Autumn,
when the nights close in, begin

Talk to me
wrapped in a cloak of Winter
melt the cold within

Talk to me
walk with me thoughout the year
speak and I will hear

I lost my best friend today,
more like my child than
merely a friend.

My 24/7 companion for 9
all too short years.

He could read me, my moods
my health, even my intentions.
We were both fully habituated
to one another that way.

Laugh, oh my how every day  
he could make me laugh.
A born and breed clown that
never lost his puppy inclinations,
his love and joy for life always
on display, even on the last day
of his earthly existence.

In the end though his eyes reflected
his pain, still his love for me remained,
with no words ever required.

Weeping does no good,
the loss and anguish must
be endured. Tucker my Boxer
dog with a wonderful soul,
will be remembered evermore.

His beloved chew and fetch
toys litter the floors, along
with his now forever empty bed.
What shall I do with all these
bittersweet artifacts of his life?
That now have become sad daily
reminders of his demise.

I will have to think about that
for à while.