(2014)
#Fall
Life has a way of playing the vile… Or, providing an evener, some migh… I, who did not want to go to war, Seeing the senselessness of it, Stayed at home to work the farm -
Early morning mist Loon fishing quiet water Shining wake behind
summer is ending following the rolling sun quite without remorse
little lies, seeds of thyme shallow-rooted, often sewn cover the largest stone yet a tree springs from a single seed
Pappa always told me that you should never tell all you… and I found it to be good advice I recall the time I got back from… with my winter stores back in ‘39
mall tree never felt a breeze sweet swell of spring rain on your leaves new life in your branches
Still they knock at my door And complain About the state of the world Selling fear Like grape Kool Aid
come sit beneath my branches and read to me from dead poets for I am old all texture and symmetry a conspiracy of cocoons
last night the winter world transformed to summer’s sphere fireflies in the night their aimless paths alight
Me: I love to drive He: it’s too damn dangerous safer to fly, statistics prove it
surf and turf of St. Andrews olde salts and bullshit under one blue tarp gossip thick as molasses sparks quick as match-lit gas
we don’t know who he said he was we came from curiosity and stayed for the inhumanity
Clouds on horizon Now and then a shorebird’s cry On buffeting wind
A man sits reading under a “SIZ… He does not look sizzling hot He looks quite ordinary in fact Perhaps feeling me watching him… (Not noticing the sign because it…
I saw their faces as clearly as if… on their stones beneath their name… heard their voices in the trees whose roots go deep into their dus… and into the dust of this Island