dull & old

just a stray thought
or two stuck up in the skull
not as sharp as he should be
his shine is actually
quite dull

took a quick walk with the dog
outside it's still a little cold
looking to the sky
the stars
feeling a bit old...

early evening

still can't get
a really nice spring
day only one flower red
(as these irie eyes)
beneath the huge maple
tree out in the back
looking at the shadows
on the grass and listening
to the wind through
the corners of already
open windows
brings on a memory flashback
twenty years pass
as if it were only minutes ago
where does all the time go
when it's here with him
it passes slow
he closes his eyes
and time speeds by
with no regard for how fast
he might be able to write
and catch up...

it's got to be getting
close to when
the clock tower bell will
strike once
his own bell in the corner
privately sounds
a call to thought
as random as can be
will be pulled into the middle
of the street if need be...

birds changing tune

the bell hangs below
and will bring one's mind
to the attention of one's
consciousness he never
minded sitting at the table alone
as long as he can keep
an eye out the window
at all times

the rock pile grows
when first viewed
every spring today
was the first day he actually
remembered to check the growth
of his pet project back yard
beautification and the fan spins
keeping the unhealthy air
at least circulating
a slight fresh breeze mixes
in through two open windows

birds sing different tunes
depending on the time of day
how do they keep it
watches on feathered wrists
or something a bit different
and amazingly enough he can see
his reflection in the end
of his silver pen with black ink

the bell calls the writer
to the inner consciousness
he trains to capture any
inner work that goes unnoticed
throughout the course
of any day someday and now

the sun has shifted
into the spot where
it will make it's descent
below the horizon still
some hours away
done so much and nothing
all in the same day
can anyone else tell
or is he still alone in the room off
the back of the house

the bell sitting
not-so-high above
his hanging position
can anyone else see
the crazy comfort he enjoys...

nothing concluded 165

he’s probably going

to talk about
the day until
it comes and goes
without catastrophe
 
plan already in the
works (or the appearance
of one) to stop
everything
nothing concluded
 
where in the Bible
still searching
and wondering
six oh six
oh six
 
does it mean
anything now
or coming this
summer ?
nothing concluded…

what's at the end

no one has the front door view
he does and when no one is
around he might stare at
the pictures kept in his mind

it's too late to make another
pot of coffee and the arm is
beginning to cramp slightly it's
probably because of the chill tonight

so far from home he must
miss it all and little ones
still too young to know
any difference at all

he's not paranoid he lives
in the middle of nowhere
someone has got to go a long way
out of the way to find

what's at the end there
a neighbor or passing by listener
nothing better to do late on Thursday
what's that

no way to stop what is
destined to arrive someday
the pages might turn a little
faster and no one will have any cash

silence isn't actually here
at the moment (electric heater
battles the chill) you wouldn't be
either if you had the chance
—you do

half picture half drawing
artistic leave behinds treasures
to the pen pushing mad man
behind fifteen blinds

it might be completely fabricated
like the lines extending right
off the page like the porch
he sits within these pine walls

he writes and someone in China
could read it tomorrow
it is just how the world works
these days unlike any other
—what's at the end...

even if he should

without the slightest hesitation
beginning again
almost as if
he never stopped never will
even if he should
to look the other way
and see if anyone
happens to glance back
his way

without flinch at all
he is hit in the face repeatedly
with punches
somehow he
doesn’t fall and feels no pain
jaws drop in amazement
no one knew
the mountain he needed to
climb to find the clean air
act as if you didn’t know
if you did
without an end
or until it ends
all over again starter
page one
everyone knew
despite what they are telling
you how many pages
later are you going to realize

without consequences
they will probably continue
to lie for another two years
who will be the next
(to do the lying)
for the whole world to see
an absolute joke…

edgewise stagnation

a word in edgewise
plenty of time
mind plays the stagnation
card as if there was is will be
a chance to beat the dealer
who will meet this ominous figure
a word on midnight sessions
smoke filled but no one around the room
empty but over flowing with thought
a word to the wise improvise
make it work what ever it might take
until midnight or later
then later still a word
confused still able to turn
pages and flip the pen and cigarette
simultaneous at times
thoughts will start stop
in the middle of the night
begin and end with a strange spring haze
hanging low in the basement...

nothing concluded 164

in order like

paperwork
sent off with
checks to pay
living expenses
 
in order
to climb out
of the deep hole
four five six
all day long...